Love, Life and Puppy Dog Tales

In my life, because of Search and Rescue, I have proudly worked closely with Law Enforcement.  I was sworn  to serve and protect.  To defend the constitution of the United States.   I have worn a badge on my chest and carried a gun on my hip for more than a decade.  I have been a part of a department that has lost deputies to senseless violence. I have screamed at the news of their deaths, and mourned at their funerals.  I only have a tiny taste of what it's like to be a police officer or a deputy, but I have a mighty respect for the job that every officer does. And here's the thing.  They are your mother or father.  They are you brother or sister.  They are your son or daughter. They are your neighbor.  I am them.  They are me.  You are them.  They are you.  These men and women that don the uniform do it because they care.  They care about their mother and father.  They care about their sister and brother.  Their son and daughter.  Their neighbor.  Me. You

More.  Faster. More. Faster. That's the everyday background mantra.  Get more done.  Go faster.  If you go faster you will get more done.  Don't stop.  Can you do one more?   I get it.  I get the pace.  It makes sense for what we do.   It bleeds over into my every day life.  I woke up this morning and so many things rushed through my mind. So much that needs to get done.  Feed the herd.  Laundry.  Vacuuming. Poop scooping.  Dishes.  The list goes on.   And there was my ride to do. So much to do that I froze.  The animals almost didn't get fed because I had so much that needed to be done I couldn't do any of it.  (Don't worry, between Velcro the cat and Kaeden, no meal gets missed around here.) If I didn't ride, I'd have more time to do.... If I didn't ride. It would have been easy to not ride.  So much I wouldn't have to do - putting on the super rider suit is its own involved chore.   I wanted to ride. But. I needed to

This will likely be one of the most raw entries I will ever do.  Forgive me as I travel down this rabbit hole. I went to the doctor today.  I went for a very specific purpose.  It was not an annual physical, although it has been a year since my last physical exam.  I had a mole that I wanted looked at.  A mole.    The doctor did indeed look at the mole.  He stared at it intently.  He asked a couple of questions and agreed that it did look odd.  Of course, if I felt that it had changed, we absolutely had to investigate it further.  He talked to me about what that looked like.  I agreed that having it removed and biopsied was a fine idea with me. As he typed away at his computer, I said I had another question for him. He said, ok, but first... He asked about the hysterectomy I had about 10 years ago. (Yes, I had a hysterectomy. No they didn't take my cervix.  Yes, it had been 5 years since my last pap smear.  Yes, I should get one.  Next year, he said.) He asked about

I have a list of people in my phone that's growing.  I wasn't expecting it to grow, and quite frankly, I never thought about it until now. A friend of mine died.  Well, let's be honest.  He killed himself. That information in and of itself rocked me. I began searching for answers.   I was trying to, morbidly perhaps, Google him to see what had happened.  My phone's browser showed me different web entries.  At the same time, it also showed me his contact information that is on my phone.  Almost like it was trying to tell me, why Google him when you can call him? Here's his info, just click and connect with him. It stopped me for a while. There are others on my phone too.  I have contact information for a growing list of dead people.  It would be easy to delete them.  A couple of clicks and they're gone. Having them in my phone is like some kind of weird insurance.  Or, really, reassurance. It sounds ridiculous, but for a minute, when their name pops

The more I thought about writing this, the more anxious I became.   At one point I convinced myself not to write about it.  Then I thought about how scared it made me, and I realized that's exactly why I have to write. Rape isn't about sex.  Rape is about power and control.  It's about displaying power and taking control.   It's about pain and humiliation.  The affects of sexual assault are long lasting and far reaching.   I know. I was raped. I was high school age.  It was someone I trusted.   I walked away bruised and in shock.   I was humiliated. I questioned myself so many times, trying to figure out how I had gotten myself into that position.  What did I do wrong? The man who assaulted me was someone who was in my life.  Someone I knew I would  come into contact with again and again.  He made it clear he wasn't afraid of me or what I might say.  He was invincible.   It was a while before I thought I could share it with anyone.  Finally, I

I succeeded.  My hike, the one that I felt defined me, is over and I accomplished what I set out to do.  Way to go ME! I am beginning to see differences with 6 months of bike riding.  It started subtly. Activities that made me feel out of breath quickly, now aren't as difficult as before. Clothes are fitting differently.  I am not at all near 'buy a new wardrobe' but I am at 'those pants that were uncomfortable are now easy to wear'.   My face has changed a bit - it's interesting.  It's something I see every day so it's hard to notice.  One day I looked in the mirror and I noticed the difference. Almost like it had happened overnight.   My legs.  That's a big difference.  I began feeling what they could do differently about 3 months in.  At the same time I began feeling the difference in how they felt when I walked or flexed for some reason.  I couldn't see it.  But the muscle was definitely noticeable to the touch. This week

I am afraid. More like terrified.   A part of what all this riding has been about is happening this weekend.  Thinking about it rattles the inside of me.  Just thinking about it has caused an anxiety attack WHILE RIDING MY BIKE (something I don't recommend). Every two years I have to do a 'fitness hike' for my Search and Rescue team.  It involves distance, time, cumulative elevation and a 20 lb pack.  The time element determines what 'level' team you are. The principle behind it is to have some measuring tool to say yes this person is fit enough to be deployed on a search.   I have done this hike many times.  I have always been a level 2 team - meaning I have done the hike in under 3 hours - until 3 years ago.    I have never wanted to be a level 1 team.  That encompasses this hike - but faster, plus additional proficiencies designed to ensure you can search at altitudes above 7000 feet. That has never been a need of mine. A level 3 is the lowest of th

It was a brutal punch to the gut.  You committed suicide. I have spent days thinking of you.  Remembering our time working together. I really only knew a small snapshot of you.  In that small space in time that we shared together, I trusted my life in your hands.  I knew you had my back.  I trusted my dogs' lives in your hands.  I knew you had their backs.  I hope you knew I had your back. Your laugh was infectious.  Your humor unmatched. Your commitment was intense. You wanted to do it right and learn all you could to find your niche within the group.  You were one of those pure people.  You did what you did for the simple reason that doing for someone else was the right thing to do. You gave.  You gave time.  You gave knowledge.  You gave empathy. You gave yourself. Did you give too much?  Did you never ask for anything for yourself? I will never know the answer. There will never be an answer.  My numbers seem inconsequential right now.  I am sharing t