Shani's Little Girl

I’ve spent the past 24 hours preparing for a trip to Texas. I had originally planned on making a full West Coast jaunt until a couple of things at home caused me to stop and revise the schedule a bit. It does seem, however, that the opportunity to get out of here for 10 days or so is presenting itself. I’m going out to Austin to spend some time with Adam, who was mine and Shani’s roommate in our first apartment together in Chattanooga back in 1999-2000. I haven’t seen him in years, but we’ve really reconnected since Shani’s death. I tell him practically every time we speak that I’ll never forget Valentine’s Day in 2000 when he rode with me to get mine and Shani’s first dog, a black Shar-Pei named Bizkit. This dog was so ridiculously adorable that she didn’t look real. We actually nicknamed her “Gund” because of her resemblance to an actual stuffed toy. She was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

Healing Energy

Our bodies serve as the spirit’s connection to the material world. Most people believe there is some sort of afterlife and that our souls move on to another place, like heaven, or another dimension, when the body dies. Many people also believe that we possess the ability to connect or communicate with God directly through prayer and meditation and that these actions allow the spirit to move beyond the physical casing of the body. One might say that we possess the ability to quiet our minds and connect directly to the energy that we cannot visibly see.

I have written about how I feel more connected to Shani now in her death than I did when she was here. Being completely stripped of the human emotions that bog us down, the worry and anxiety of daily life, I believe that Shani is in a truly magical state, something far beyond human comprehension, something we can only begin to understand once we die.

Moving To New York (Part Two)

In my last post, I started the story of mine and Shani’s move to New York City.  CLICK HERE TO READ PART ONE

The following is the completion of that story…

In the time between calling the cops and parking the truck, Shani had located the apartment building and joined us on the corner. An Asian man and his family suddenly appeared among the group motioning over to his car, the Honda with the smashed mirror. I apologized over and over, and he just nodded again and again, apparently unable to speak English. I said that I would pay for it, but the communication barrier posed a problem. As we stood there near his car and he surveyed the damage, I took his information and promised to call him the following day to arrange payment for the broken mirror. We were able to get that much accomplished through broken English and improvised sign language. I returned to my conversation with the police officers.

Moving To New York (Part One)

In July of 2002, I was employed with Crunch Fitness, a health club chain based in New York City. At the time I was the Area Sales Director for the company’s 6 clubs in Atlanta. We had a pretty successful year to that point and there had been a shift in upper management in New York, creating a void for the same position in Manhattan. I thought for sure that they would either promote someone that lived in the city or hire someone more familiar with those particular clubs, so when I got the call offering me the position, not only was I floored, but I accepted it on the spot. Shani and I knew there was always the possibility I could get it, but no one had ever really mentioned anything concrete, certainly nothing along the lines of my having been the front-runner for the job.

I’ll never forget Shani’s response when I called to tell her.

Attachment Brings Suffering

What if everything with which you identified yourself in this world was suddenly gone? What if your spouse was murdered, your career evaporated, and your home all disappeared as if into thin air? What if you found yourself so distraught and haunted that you couldn’t sleep? What if you felt as if you had lost your mind? Where would you find peace or solace?

The Spiritual Path

This week has been quite an introspective time for me. Sean has been out of town on vacation, so we haven’t been meeting to write, and I’ve had a lot going on personally. Things seemed to be all over the place. Whenever I find myself emotionally spun like this, I will inevitably find myself standing there, looking up at the sky, asking, “What do you want me to do with this?”

It was the same back on the night of June 2, 2009. While just trying to make it through the night before catching my flight from Fort Lauderdale back to Atlanta, that was the exact question I posed to God.

“What do you me to do with this?”

Pain Is Pain

I just got home from the hospital after visiting a friend of mine and his live-in girlfriend, who suffered a stroke about 2 weeks ago. I hadn’t been over to see her yet and felt guilty. I was thinking about this and the past two weeks as I sat in the parking lot prior to going in.

Her stroke occurred at a time when I was experiencing my fair share of “heavy,” and I wasn’t responding well to any stress. I felt completely overwhelmed. When I found out about the stroke, all I could manage was just putting myself out there for them in case they needed anything. Regardless, I felt horrible for not having been present before now.

Adventure

Structure has always been important to me. Everything has to have a plan, and when we deviate from that plan, I get frustrated. That didn’t bode well in my relationship with Shani.

On Sunday mornings, I was typically up and off to yoga early, and she would still be in bed when I got home. This drove me nuts, but she believed that the weekends were her time so she was sleeping in on most of them. I would always fix us breakfast in bed when I got back though. It was usually the same old coffee, eggs, toast and veggie sausage, but it worked. It was our tradition.

Celebrate & Grieve

I went to Atlanta this weekend. Originally, I was supposed to go down Saturday night for a party for a friend of mine. Staci and her new husband were celebrating their recent marriage. After having a private ceremony a few months ago, they were just now having a get-together for their close friends.

I was concerned about being alone in a social environment, so I e-mailed her earlier in the week to tell her that I just wasn’t ready. She said she understood but still wanted to meet to have lunch if possible. Considering how busy the day was going to be for her, I was thrilled that she would take the time to come see me. It had been three years since I last saw her. Staci lost her best friend to murder 12 years ago and said she really wanted to be there for me. She thought she could help.

I Hope You Have A Good Therapist

I just got home from seeing my therapist, Allie. I’ve written about seeing her before, but never alluded directly to my visits or the epiphanies that I’ve had with her over the last 6 months. I’m sure a lot of people’s first or second thoughts in considering what I was facing in all of this were probably along the lines of, “I hope he’s got a good therapist…” Well, yes, I do, thank you very much.

I felt sketchy as soon as I got in the car this morning. My days have been difficult as of late, going from one extreme to the other. I’ve been doing a lot of “pushing through things,” carrying the weight of the world on my back for a long time, but I hit the road for my hour and fifteen-minute drive down I-75. Yep, I drive an hour and fifteen minutes to see her. She’s that good.

I’ve written previously about how music has been a vessel by which Shani has communicated with me since her death, and obviously, a huge theme of the book Sean and I are writing is about mine and Shani’s connection with music. I’ve written about how Shani has sent me messages through song lyrics (as I type this, Crazy Love by Van Morrison is playing). At this point however, when hear something that seems to have come at the perfect time, or a specific song comes through, I’m simply comforted. It has become a common feeling that I now have about the interconnectedness of all things.

Opinions Are Like...

In the days following Shani’s death, the story of her murder was all over the television and internet, and the initial reports had none of the information that I was privy to following my debriefing from detectives the day after the murder. All anyone in the general public knew was that Shani was ambushed by Zeke as she sat in her car at the entrance gate to his apartment.

It was released that, while on the way to the police station to be questioned, Zeke had asked to serve his time in a hospital if he was “going away for a long time.” Apparently, one of our neighbors also told the media that we were moving to Florida, which was then thrown into the mix as a possible motive, so a reporter with the Atlanta Journal Constitution wrote that Zeke killed Shani because she was moving to start a life without him.

There was a lot, though, that nobody knew...

Finding Peace Through Meditation

Over the last 24 hours, I’ve done a lot of meditating. For those of you who don’t have a regular meditation practice, which I can only assume is the majority of people reading this, I would highly suggest reading and researching its benefits. I’ll be glad to assist anyone that needs a little direction.

In Limbo

I’m having a hell of a time writing lately. I’ve got so many things going on in my head that every time I start I seem to go in a million different directions. I want to come up with something uplifting, but the truth is that I’m nothing but scattered. I want to move forward, but feel encaged. I want to connect with others, but feel completely isolated. I want a foundation on a new existence and feel nothing but unstable.

Our Brain, The Crazy Computer

The following is a graphic description of my personal experience with PTSD.

In my previous post about PTSD, I referenced a number of symptoms associated with the disorder. Before going any further, I want to make it very clear that these symptoms and this experience are completely out of the conscious control of the individual suffering from them. All too often, people look at mental or emotional issues and think people should just “snap out of it” or “move on” with their lives. Trust me, I have a few of those people in my life that have judged me in the same way. They have no clue.

Just imagine, as difficult as this may be for you to do, the picture of your closest loved one being shot to death. Imagine the sounds of the gun firing, the image of the bullets flying, the blood, the guts, the screaming, anything and everything. Now picture your loved one’s body being struck. Imagine where the bullets penetrate—their chest, arms, legs, stomach, head, whatever your brain concocts. Imagine it.