Soul Connections

It has long been a belief of mine that the closest familial and friend connections we have in our lives are connections we have on deeper levels as souls.  I have come to understand in my study, meditation, and exploration of the nature of my truest self via dreams, intuitive training, and hypnotherapy that the relationships we are tied to are the very bonds that we have been tied to in countless experiences, situations, and interconnectedness which would blow one's mind had they not been introduced to concepts of reincarnation prior.

It is considered outrageous, and maybe even blasphemous, to believe in reincarnation in the church I am currently a member of.

I, however, have grown in so many ways since facing death many times.  I am a version of my old self knit to a broadened sense of wonder and understanding that I never considered prior.

Who's to say my former self understood life in full?

And who's to say my current self even understands it still?

I will say this; the relationships I have in my current circumstances have seen many dimensions, and my role to each of the lovelies I currently exist with has been ever changing.

How, you may ask, do I know this?

I did a hypnotherapy session a year ago, after having done many meditations which led me to fascinating books and visions that lingered with the concept of past life experiences.  I wasn't asking for the information...it quite literally fell into my subconscious, and then conscious, reality.

I guess when you seek your soul, your soul comes knocking!

This handsome son of mine is very much an adult, and has spent some time after graduation discovering who he is and what he loves before he has made any daring moves into the world.

Over the last year, he has become a best friend to me.  He lovingly listens to the stories of my heart, and then tells me the stories of his.  

He has introduced me to the world of sci-fi literature, one I was always fond of, but had never spent enough time exploring.  Together, we read the entire Dune series by Frank Herbert, and fell in love with the writer, characters, beautiful third person omniscient perspective, and content in the books that begs hours of discussion and admiration.  I cannot even begin to say how annoyed some household members became by another Dune mother and son bookclub chat we had over the last year.

Needless to say, I have always known my relationship to each of my children is deeper than the mother and child nature we currently share.  My relationship with Connor is such that I know without a shadow of a doubt that we have a connection that is unspoken, and unbreakable.  I do not know what we have experienced prior to this life, but I know that it was something that I came into this life recognizing as awe and respect towards him.  He is a refined man--kind, courteous, gentle, but strong, reliable, rational, and brilliant.  His mind is something I pray the world can see into, for it is beautiful and wise beyond his years.

Connor recently started working full time, and I began to go through a depression, as I have lost one of my best friends in the home during the day hours.

Last night, after work was over for him, and I was needing to care for Little Man still, Connor shouted out, "Oh wait...hey Mom?"

I stopped myself on the way out of the kitchen, turned around in my exhausted state, expecting fully to hear him ask about something I could do for him before the morning came, and said, "ya?"  I was secretly praying he was fine and only needed a small task from me.

He silently approached me, took me under his wing and hugged me so tight while saying, "I love you...thank you so much for dinner."

I fully expect this kind gesture from Connor, but on a day I had cried a handful of tears and battled the little voice that tells me I'm merely playing the support role for everyone as they strive to live their dreams in life, I found it unexpected.  A few tears fell from my eyes, and a newness to life pulsed through my veins for the evening.  That support role I am playing felt like the biggest role in this large scale movie we are putting together in our home!

Thank you Beautiful Connor!  May life be as lovely to you as you are to all you meet.

I love you so much, 

Crystal 💜 Miss Crys 💙 Mommy 💗

Breaking Bad Halloween

 November 7, 2022

In memory of growing up in New Mexico--that would be me myself and I--and then raising children there for 6 years, we decided to celebrate in southwestern cinematic style this year.  

Over the last 6 months, Steve, Connor, Aiden, and myself watch the entire series "Breaking Bad".  To say it mildly, it was full of ethical and moral debate, yet, we all fell in love with the main characters and plot.  There were countless conversations over Walter's "gambling" dilemma, that pure blue "candy", and the desperation one faces when they have been told they are dying--and what can rise from that situation. 

As a woman who was diagnosed with stage 3d breast cancer in 2016, the same advanced stage Walter's lung cancer is in through the show, I can say I fully empathize with the scenario he faced.  Vision isn't 20/20 when you are a young parent that's been told death is just around the corner.  Everything changes...EVERYTHING CHANGES.  I lived in a tunnel, and daily living became distorted by fear and anguish. 

Walter began a form of time travel, in a sense, making as much dough as he could before his time was up; there was no way his teaching salary could earn him the $737,000 he wanted to leave his family with before he died, so he made time work for him, in a very life changing manner.

Was it worth it?

For viewing pleasure and countless conversations, yes!

Our delayed Halloween party was definitely worth it!

Here we have Aiden as Jesee Pinkman, Steve as Walter White, Connor as Walter Jr., and your very own as Skylar White!

Being that the other children didn't watch the series (minus the moments Gavin caught as I finished episodes), Halloween was split.  Maya was "Lydia" from Beetlejuice.

Gavin, though not in costume here, was Sonic the Hedgehog!

And Lydia was a version of Alice in Wonderland.  (Updated pics coming!)

We had a few "rock candy" deals go down through the night.

The oldest and youngest alike began an endless quest to solve Rubix cubes.  The quest continues for those of us who refuse to watch a YouTube tutorial on how to solve it.

Our very own cook produced a beautiful clear batch of "candy" for the evening, and the laughs were endless.  

I am so honored to be a mother to all of these children--they make life worth living.  I say that statement with exactness.  After all I have faced, there are days when life feels too hard and trauma too deep, but these kids--well, adults and kids of mine--have given me reason to push forward.  

Connor recently started working a lot, and as one of my best buddies and confidants in life, I have missed him massively.  There are days when I forget some of life's joy because he is gone all day long, but when I pick him up, he brings a light into life that I miss for 9 plus hours most days of the week.  Luckily, Aiden is finishing school virtually this year, so I still have some company, but having all of the children in school or work has been tough for a Momma who fought and acquired severe trauma for the purpose of raising children.  It sounds ridiculous, but I am trying to find the reasons to fight for life for myself now.  

I love you beautiful family,

Crystal 💜 Miss Crys 💙 Mommy 💗

The Life Daddy Gave

Dear Daddy—

You came to me last night.  I wasn’t sure if I was awake when you arrived or not, but I felt you coming.  At one point, I was very conscious of your presence with me—I could see your strong stout figure as you approached, light shone from behind you, and I saw the smile you always give me when we are together.  I know the look of concern you give is the other frequent expression on your face, and it

is so often nestled with the love, but this time you just looked so happy to see me.  I walked towards you and felt the path I had always walked into your arms hundreds of times over come to mind as we did this walk last night.  You took me in your arms—protectively, lovingly, and with great honor.  Thank you for loving me that much Daddy—that even though I have lived a life of pain and hardship that is remembered by the trail of tears I leave with each step I take—even though I fall down and repeat the mistakes I’ve made again and again—you still feel honor when you hold me.  

Maybe that’s the gift of knowing me a little more completely now?  I truly don’t know.  I can imagine that to you, I am not a linear span of time in your life—perhaps it’s as if all of our moments together can now be put into one big picture.  Maybe now you can see me with 360 degree vision—where you fully comprehend the things about me that made you so weary and fearful that the love between us wasn’t as deep on my end as it was on yours.  Can you see now that my love and longing for you has always been there?  Can you see that none of the fears you had about us were founded upon anything that ever happened between us, they weren’t even related to us—they were just related to me and all of these rocks and heartaches I’ve been carrying for so long.  I imagine you are hearing the things I never told you and are so much more capable of helping me now that your bag of awful burdens has been laid down—now that you can be with me no matter what barriers of distance , frailty, and heart are between us.  I hope you are here more than ever because I need you now...more than ever.  

I miss you Daddy. I miss you so so much.  I’m still that fragile little girl who shed tears in high school because we had to go back home too soon on a weekend we had with you—only now I’m shedding those tears because it feels like you were called home too soon, and I didn’t have enough time to tell you all the things I needed you to hear.  I had been trying to save my life and sending out little silent pleas to you as the isolation of cancer treatment and reovery turned what was already too hard for me to bear into something I almost couldn’t escape.  Right as you were leaving this world, I was coming to gain intuition and determination to change the course of my life—the week you died was my first week on a new path that could potentially end much of my suffering.  Your life ended as mine was being given back to me—were you a part of that magic?  I can’t help but wonder if the baby girl you held so proudly and gave life to with beautiful Mom is the baby girl you were willing to part from and give a little bit of you over to in order to give me life and hope again....  Thank you for all the life you gave. 

But I never did call you when you told me to reach out to you on the days when I was so lonely and couldn’t take it anymore after I nearly died.  If I lived true to that promise, I woulda called you everyday for the last 16 months of your life...but I know you understand that reaching out when you’re letting go is impossible.  I was letting go.  But I think I’m okay now Daddy. You had to have been a part of that process, though I know for certain I had to dig deeper than I’ve ever dug to be able to say, I’m okay.  You have to be a part of the magic that is literally breathing life into me again.  Thank you Daddy....

I miss you...

I miss you so much....

You’re little Nightingale,

Crystal Marie

Overcoming

From a very early age, we are all taught how to overcome tribulation and pain.  When we fall, our instinct is to look for someone who can help pick us up and lift our spirits to ease the pain as we fight to feel better and be whole again.  

I’ve trained myself to do the opposite of that principle.  Some of it has been a consequence of facing afflictions that are very hard for the people I rely on to understand, or because I felt as though the heartache and repeated string of suffering became too much for my friends and family to bear with me. Even if my thinking was deluded by the chemotherapy and trauma, I believed and felt alone, so I remained quiet and bore the grief in isolation.  Yet, rightly so, some of it is because I didn’t have the energy or time to reach out and let someone know I needed help.  

It has taken a lot of holding on and letting go, minute by minute, to stay alive, and that pattern continues.  I have a plethora of problems post-cancer, both physical and mental, that I have to manage.  Some of them take a good amount of time, and some of them simply require awareness, but they all take work—so it goes with everything in our mortal state.  If we cease working on ourselves, houses, cars, relationships, etc.—they die.  I have been near death too many times, and have problems that will put me near it again if I don’t manage them well—and I don’t want that, not yet.  

Going through many health traumas places one in a state of fear when the phone rings from the hospitals and doctors, when the calendar has another "check-up" coming ahead, and when doing the big visits. Has the cancer returned?  A never ending looping question driving one slowly insane.  

Accepting that this is my life is the hardest part—living with broken hearts, lost time, dreams unfulfilled, and bad energy, loitering in the corners,  has been my lot for the last while.  I am trying to learn how to let go and move forward, but I can’t do it alone.  I need family, friends, prayer, meditation, and good books to fuel me forward.  I trust few with the details of my journey, and that’s okay right now—at least those few are there to hear my frantic pleas and keep me grounded.    

I am different now and have feared coming into the world as the person I am because I loved the person I was.  Yet, there is newfound wisdom in who I've become.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  The biggest change is perspective—to see things deeply, with greater understanding and intensity, to know the depth of sorrows that can run in the pulsations of the heart, and to find that nothing is guaranteed.  Life is very short, and the simple ticking moments we spend in waiting are all we really have.  

It is okay to have a hard time, but we can still love through the hard times—we can make mistakes and then try to recover, repay, and release, so we don’t live with too much undone when we are called home for a period of rest.  It is definitely okay to be flawed, don’t try too hard to be perfect.  Accept yourself and make changes a little at a time so that you can decrease the suffering you may place on yourself or others.  Love isn’t all you need, but it is what we can freely give and accept, and it is transmitted by words, actions, and raw honesty with who we really are and hope to be.  Find acceptance for yourself and the people you love. It may rattle us to the core to feel the angst we cause others, and have done to us, but there is always a path forward.  Don’t let anyone tell you that you’ve fallen too far to be loved and respected—someone is there to love you.  They may be the person in front of you, the person that came to mind when you were at your lowest, and even the person in a dream that has long been gone and somehow has a way of making you feel loved and accepted in the transient state of sleep.  Just listen with stillness and your lifeline will be given to you when you need it.  All is not lost, it’s just changing.

My sweet little Gavin, in his young innocence, fell on the sidewalk recently.  He was beside himself in agony as he made his worst landing to date.  I was alone with him, and the ache in my heart was just as bad as the torn skin on his knees.  I picked him up, as he laid in his sad screaming state, and carried him quickly to the car, curled him into my arms , upon my lap, and waited for my daughters to rush the band-aides out to us.  He was gasping for air because he could see all of the blood dripping down his leg, and he called it “pain”.  After  I got him bandaged up, buckled into his seat, and on our way, he quietly told me, “thank you for saving me mommy, you’re like a superhero...you’re like Batgirl.”  My heart melted.  It took little work on my part to carry him in his sorrows, but the bulk of the work came from the area of the heart—how much was I willing to invest in his “pain”?  

Once we make the decision to invest in someone’s pain, no matter how trivial or gigantic we may think it is, we must put patience, tolerance, and love into them so that we don’t have them feel like they are either too small or too big for our time and agendas.  The choice is easy to make, the work is the hard part.  As the Savior says, I’d rather you be either hot or cold, but not lukewarm (paraphrased slightly).  We love or we don’t. 

When it was time to give up the band-aides, Gavin looked at me with sadness and said that he just wanted them to look like this—he then proceeded to show me the skin on the palm of his hands—beautiful, perfect, and whole.  I told him he was in the healing process and one day it will look very whole again, even if it’s not perfect, but until then, we can be brave and strong, knowing we are getting better (a hint of foresight into his next fall!). 

We all have to let go of wounds, and be brave enough to work through the healing process—it is tough.  Gavin’s pain is just as hard as my pain—once we remember that, we can play the healing game with respect, and most of all....love.

I love you dear son, my little man.

Mommy’s got your back, is in your corner and will wrap those wounds and give you nourishment so you can keep fighting.  Thanks for doing that very thing for me by being you. 

With all the love a mother can give—

Mommy

Ticking

For  anyone who has waited to hear, I’m still ticking.  

My body is a well oiled clock which has been repaired many times over, that will one day see it’s hands stand still.

But today, I’m here...

Ticking away!

Love—Miss Crys

Time

How do you really measure experience?  How do you measure love and memory?  Time is such a temporal and mortal frame of reference and a blurry measurement that is, in itself, so finite to man.

But man....and woman...is not finite.  Nor are memories and experience—they are all infinite, eternal, and ongoing.

It is my belief after having had so many experiences in such a short lifetime, that one thing is certain—there is no real end to the miraculous consciousness within us, no end to the experiences we have, the ladders we climb, the love we can give and receive, and the hope we have in something more.  I do not say what we have is never enough, but I elude to a more complete, fair, joyous, and perfect existence with those we are temporally close to in proximity, AND those whom we love which have been separated by distance in this lifetime, this life...time.  Life and time seem to hold two truths, in our mortal-trained thought; they both come to an end, but they both actually move on—ironically.  What we began here commenced before, and whom we love here,  we have loved before. What ends here, only moves on, and whom we love here are always a part of us...I have no doubt of these truths. 

Much has happened in the 39 years I have lived. I can recall handfuls of moments that were too close to death's door to say that my life is an accident, and it will never end as such.  God has carried me in His tender hands and preserved me, though He’s let me walk in the fire in order to learn as much as I can about how to love and succor those who are His—all of God’s children, all humanity, creation, and matter.  I have kicked and tantrumed through some of His paths, begged for escape, and have even walked that awful line, pleading for death.  I am certain God, Creator, or Source knew every ounce of knowledge and suffering brought into those moments and was more concerned with loving me through them than condemning me for the gift of this journey.  This has been taught to me by experience alone—we can only know suffering and unconditional love once we have suffered.  It is foolish to think we can understand, judge, or even offer wisdom to another until we have walked in their shoes.  Until then, we love as best as we can.  Only love...

God is Love.

I am Love.

 You are Love.

Were it not for our experiences, we wouldn’t come to understand Him so well.

I type this as my daughters are thumbing through all of their memorabilia and showing me their trinkets--word written, photos captured, and old jewelry from their short life, while saying, “Remember this?”  They follow it with a cute story of their recollection, and I have my own story that I can add to it in order to bring a whole truth to our little truths combined.  

A lot has happened in the last 3.5 years...I can’t believe I’m saying that because it means I haven’t done one of my most needful things in way too long—write, recall, remember. But when you are in survival mode, you can literally only survive and pray that all the little energy that you have is enough for each day.  I had to let a lot of things go, but every first few priorities on the "need to do" list— in its own way, got done.

To start the next transition of my journey here are a few of my children—all of my children are the loves of my life.  Miss Maya just celebrated her 10th Birthday this year—and she surely made the most of it, as I had just been in surgery the day before her Birthday.  Good thing the Birthdays all have a quarantine theme to them lately—drive-by visits from the Fultz grandparents with social distancing conversations, wiping gifts off with disinfectant before they enter the house, and living by faith that the cake makers did a good job with their food hygiene skills—so far, we’ve been fine!

Of course, little man got in on the “burrfday” action as well, because every Birthday is his Birthday too these days. He has a knack for stealing your heart with every glance, word, and very tender touch.    This little man is the twinkle in my eye, the pep in my step, the salt on my lemon, and the sunshine in my cloudy skies—he has made my life journey so full, even in such brokenness.  It has been a joy to watch as the two youngest children gravitate toward each other in playtime—I still have some pure innocence in the home!

 Maya has been so involved in art and style this year. She is also an excellent runner. She ran several 5k’s in the last several years and was training for her 3rd 5k when coronavirus took the kids out of school and out of group training. 

This is a tired me with the Birthday girl—this was a day after major surgery for me, so I am trying my hardest but feeling a little off.

Birthday kisses!

and Birthday FUN!

I love you little love...Maya.  You make every day wonderful and fun.  Thank you for the last 10 years. You have a sensitive and tender spirit and can love beyond measure; always love, but learn to protect your heart and find calm in your storms.  You are always enough—you are divine! I love you, little girl...Mommy

Current Doubts

Hello friends, and most genuinely, family--children and husband, inlaws and sister's, grandma and maybe mom?

I intentionally waited to tell my Mom about my biopsy so as to not worry her, for she was on vacation at the time that I had a biopsy done.  When I heard her story of the events which took place on 10-19-2016, I has a sense of, "Maybe this will finally bring us together."

Was I right?  Has this year brought us closer?

Was I wrong?  Have we drifted, or remained stagnant?

Even I can't explain all the details, but my heart senses what has happened, and for that I do grieve.

On October 16, 2016, my Mom was vacationing and had come across a pink fountain that was intentionally flowing with beautiful spouts of light pink in rememberance of Breast Cancer Awareness month, which happens to be in October--oddly.  My Mom posted that pic to her facebook feed, mostly in remembrance of her living best friend who suffered breast cancer and treatment.  She would later state that it felt like God directing her and bringing she and I together while I had simply covered my secret biopsy so she could enjoy her vacation without worries or fears.

This was the beautiful fountain she came across.  I remeber sitting with her as we spoke about the coincidence, which we both creditied to God in the end.  It felt so good to have my Mom give God the credit over something bringing her memory and thoughts towards ME, though I do wonder if we as souls play more of the role in the many intuitive thoughts and directions we have and follow through with.  Dear Mom, you were simply in tune with me as my heart cried out to you while me voice was silent.

I doubt, however.  

Though the beginning of this journey seemed to unite my mother and I in ways I felt we needed, it has become apparent that too much pain can destroy the connections we are seeking and needing.

Cancer is a very isolating experience.  I have found that it is very hard to assimilate with anyone because my direct circle isn't actively fighting for their lives via a long slow deathlike journey.  Most of my peers are dropping their beautiful children off at school, rushing to work, cleaning and cooking during the late afternoon hours, watching a bit of TV or going to sports activities for their children in the evening, and laying their heads to rest in honor of a day well spent.  

I, however, have spent my days trying to care for an infant by either laying or crawling on the floor if Daddy is working.  When he isn't, I am usually in bed or at the hospital getting another round of chemo or planning surgeries.  I have amazing friends who have picked up my children daily for school and a husband who has made every attempt to get them to church, create a very loose routine, and keep them safe for me while I am sleeping, depressed, or away at more appointments.  But when I am home, I must be careful to not touch the children for 24 hours post treatment.  Because I have a newborn, and he was already failing to thrive while within me, as well as now, I push that 24 hours to 36 or more.  It is torture. This is not the experience I had hoped for as a 36 year old mother.  This is living hell for me.

It has become apparent that the pain I must face is a pain my mother doesn't want to repeatedly endure.  I understand.  She has been distant, except for the moments when I drop my sweet Gavin off at her house every so often so I can make it to another treatment.  Perhaps, we can only handle so much pain in life before we close a door and say, "Enough is enough."

My pain didn't have to be her's.  Yet, in feeling so much distance from her while I have been fighting for the life she gave me, my pain has been amplified.  

I wish there was an easier way.