Cassandra Rae
A woman on a mission to help people connect!
Rock out your family life!
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A part of me shut down with the death of the pink blossom on that spring day so long ago. Today, I reach into the depths of my memory to revive my five-year-old self complete with all of her unbridled joy, excitement, love, and adoration. I wrap her in my arms and tell her, “Its okay. You’re okay and you can cry if you want to.”
I can feel her collapse in my arms and cry with relief. She has been holding back the tears and the pain for almost thirty years.
“Why did she do that to me? Why is she so mean?” she asks in between sobs.
“She’s just afraid,” I respond. “She doesn’t know how to accept your gift of love. But, it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love you. She just doesn’t know how to show you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Grandma’s had a tough life and it’s not safe for her to love like you do. And you know what?”
“What?”
“You can show her how to love.”
“I can?”
“Yup.”
“How?”
“Just by being yourself.”
She shakes her head in disbelief, “No way!”
“Yes way! Because you are kind, loving, and generous. Let’s not let her or anyone else take that away from you. What do you say?”
“Okay!”
“How about we take this precious pink blossom and put it in some water?”
“Sure.”
“And then we can take a picture of it to hold in our hearts and mind forever. Every time we look at it we can remember that Grandma is fragile just like this blossom and we need to water her with love.”
“Grandma won’t like it if we get her wet,” she warns seriously. Then we look at each other and burst into giggles.
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{note: read part 1 first}
When we arrived at Grandma’s, she was waiting at the door. Nancy and Brenda had already knocked and gone in. In fact, they were out back playing with Uncle Jon.
“Grandma,” I squealed while running up the walk, “Look what I brought for you. It’s a flower!”
I presented her gift in pride and joy waiting for her face to light up in pleasure. She took the small blossom from my fingers and placed it in the palm of her hand. “Thank you, Cassandra,” she said and turned away to enter the house.
“Do you love it, Grandma?” I asked following her into the living room.
“Yes, it’s very pretty, Dear,” she replied. “I’m going to put it right here.” She placed it on top of the television then turned and looked at me, “Did you know that now that you picked it it’s going to die?” she asked me.
“What?” my heart sank in disappointment.
“It’s okay that you picked it this one time,” she went on, “but if we picked all the blossoms there would be no more flowers and trees to enjoy.”
The once beautiful pink trophy sat on top of the TV now as a symbol of my guilt and shame. Could it be true that I was killing the pretty flowers and trees? But, I loved them so much. That couldn’t be possible. Could it?
I turned back to Mom, “Did I kill the flowers and trees, Mom?” I whispered trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape at any moment.
“No, of course not,” she said. “Now go play with your sisters.”
But, I didn’t hear her. I could only hear the fear in my head telling me how bad and wrong I was. How could this be? I just wanted to surprise Grandma and to make her happy. I wanted her to see how much I loved and adored her. Now it was ruined and my joy was trampled by Grandma’s frightening words.
A few years ago I was so miserable I hired a life coach to help me figure it all out. Part of my personal healing process was to write about things…mostly about my family of origin. You see, I loved and cared about them so much I hated them. And it hurt. Deeply. But, the writing helped and so I thought I would share some of it with you. Here’s a piece of me I wrote in April 2006:
It was spring of 1979 and the trees lining the street to Grandma’s house were in full bloom. It was a worn out street with cracked pavement and drooping houses. But, the trees were young and decorated with pretty pink blossoms. As we drove down Mae Avenue in our Ford Pinto I had a brilliant idea.
“Mom, will you walk with me back to the trees so that I can pick a pretty flower for Grandma?” I asked in anticipation glancing at my sisters to see their reaction.
“Oh, I don’t know. We said we would be there at four and it’s already a quarter past the hour,” she replied.
“Please, Mom. I just know she will love it. Puhleeeaaassseee!” I begged.
“Well, okay. But you have to promise to hurry.”
“Yes!” I said to myself as we pulled up to Grandma’s small white house. I jumped out of the backseat and took off running down the street to the closest flowering tree.
“Darn,” I mumbled when I got there because I couldn’t reach the lowest branch. Now I had to wait for Mom and she takes forever. I stretched my body as tall as I could and jumped up and down, but I was still too small.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “Hurry up, Mom!”
“I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold your horses,” she replied shuffling up to me.
“I can’t reach. Pick me up so that I can grab one.” I wiggled and squirmed in anticipation.
“Okay, okay. Here you go.” I climbed into Mom’s arms and grabbed the closest branch. I pulled, but the branch wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck, Mommy. It won’t come off.” I yanked and twisted with no success.
“Here let me try, Honey,” Mom said while pulling me away from the tree.
“No wait! One more try,” I pleaded as I lunged for a branch and pulled with all my might. I thought for sure I would succeed this time, but my five-year-old fingers slipped and my elbow snapped right into Mom’s shoulder.
“Ugh!” she yelped in shock.
“Oh, I’m sorry Mommy. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I said petting her wounded shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she replied setting me down.
“We better get going,” she mumbled as she twisted the end of a branch off with little effort. “Here you go. Here’s your blossom.”
She handed me the branch of pink petals and I cradled it like a baby in my tiny hands. “Grandma’s going to be so happy when I give her my present.” I skipped back down the street to keep up with Mom’s fast pace.
Weekly Winners
Posted by CassandraRae in Weekly Winners
"The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks."
~ Tennessee Williams
"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature." ~ Anne Frank
"Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul."
~ The Koran
"The sun, with all those plants revolving around it and dependent upon it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do." ~ Galileo
Tasting the Sun
Because Flowers Speak to My Soul
You are beautiful simply by opening up and blossoming boldly!
When I was a kid I would…
- ~ Line up my dolls and play Teacher
- ~ Tell on my older sisters incessantly (I think at some point my mom stopped listening - it was easier not to know :~)
- ~ Get up early before school and workout
- ~ Try to make things better between my sisters and mom
- ~ Save my candy so that I could eat it when my sisters didn’t have any
- ~ Talk to my imaginary puppy
- ~ Do homework even when I didn’t have any
- ~ Try as hard as I could not to wake up my mom no matter how afraid I was
- ~ Clean voluntarily - especially to make my sister look bad
- ~ Read
- ~ Write - and sometimes it was just to admire my penmanship
- ~ Fall asleep within seconds of sitting down in front of the tellie
- ~ Trash my veggies (sshhh…please don’t tell on me!)
- ~ Make my Barbies do it
What would you do once you were a kid?
Feel Like Giving Up?
Posted by CassandraRae in Life Coaching
What do you do when you feel like giving up? And who can you turn to for support and encouragement?
At at time in my life when I felt the lowest (junior year in high school), my English teacher Mr. Smith saw through my rough exterior. He saw the beauty in me.
Today as I prepare for my next coaching group, I want to see the beauty in me too. Maybe I’m a bit too close to see it clearly. How about I simply trust that there is beauty within me?
Okay.
I trust that I shine in simply being myself. I don’t need to try super hard. I have talents to do the work for me. My job is to tap into the talents and put them to use!
**
You know, must of us are blind to our own beauty. So much of what I do for my clients as a life coach is simply see their beauty, their talents, and their passion. I celebrate it. Dance in it. Point it out. Then ask them to claim it.
And you know what?
It’s absolutely amazing! And people do amazing things when they allow themselves to shine!
Boost Your Confidence!
Posted by admin in Life Coaching
Would you like more courage?
Clarity?
And confidence?
led by teen & family coach Cassandra Rae
Dedicate an hour to your success and join us to:
* Expose disempowering family beliefs & patterns
* Create new & empowering perspectives
* Brainstorm simple & practical ways to put them into action
* Connect with others who champion the same goal
Over the phone on Tuesday, August 5, 2008 at 12pm Pacific Daylight Time {this call will be recorded}
This group is for adults and teens who are:
* Ready to move past the insecurity
* Willing to receive uplifting support and acknowledgment
* Open to learning new perspectives and skills
Click here to register
I searched the wall for something, anything to hold my attention away from the poking and prodding I knew was going on. I settled on counting the dots on the ceiling tiles, which got old quick. So instead I searched for groups of three dots. I like things that come in threes - just like my two sisters and me.
“Can you feel this?” he wondered.
“No,” I answered honestly. Couldn’t feel a thing. Not the needle prick. Not even the loneliness.
“Okay. Can I have an 18 gauge needle please?” he asked her.
Crap! Why the heck do I have to know that that’s a huge needle?!
I searched the ceiling frantically for the next bundle of three. There’s one!
Okay, now breathe.
I noticed that my leg muscles were tensed and I slowly released the tension. I remembered how when I gave birth I learned how to relax through the pain, which really helped relieve it. But, in all honesty, I wasn’t in any pain as the doctor inserted his large needle into my breast and pressed into the cyst. Too bad for me it wasn’t a fragile bubble of fluid just waiting to be popped. Nope. Instead the cyst turned out to be as hard to crack as a walnut.
The doctor would lean into the needle in order to penetrate the cyst and each time he applied more pressure I would tense and hold my breath. I was seriously afraid he would push too hard and the needle would slip puncturing the dreaded vessel again. I fought back the bloody images.
Instead I searched the trios of dots looking for anything that resembled the flowers on my sister Nancy’s blouse. When I was in labor with Carina, Nancy was my coach and she wore this v-neck t-shirt with tiny pink flowers all over it. When I had contractions I would immerse myself in the flowers, grip her hand, and the pain would subside even when the contractions didn’t stop. I remember feeling so safe with her by my side and I lay there alone in the breast spa wishing she was there with me.
“Got it! Can I have a 5 cc tube please?” he asked her.
“What color is it?” I asked and looked towards him for the first time since being poked.
“It’s greenish brown, which means that there is no need to send it to the lab.” He held up the tube of fluid he had withdrawn from my boob. It looked reddish brown to me, but it didn’t really matter as long as it was normal cyst fluid that doesn’t even need to be tested for cancer.
For the first time through this whole lumpy bumpy breast ordeal, there was quantifiable, touchable proof that I don’t have cancer. Yay! It’s such a relief to climb off this huge table, strip the cotton robe, and skip on outta here without waiting for more test results. I’ll take my deflated, but healthy boob with me and see ya in 6 months for a check-up. Thanks, Doc!
The Breast Spa {part 1}
The Breast Spa {part 2}