Rwanda Genocide

 

When my brother and I first started discussing going to Africa, one of the things that he brought up first was going to visit the Rwanda genocide sites. We both share the passion for human rights and in our own small way we work to to right injustices in the world.  That includes having to do our own personal work around our own implicit biases, unconscious racism and conscious racism.

In our much younger lives, when we were still children, we both experienced targeted hatred that left permanent scars. Perhaps it is those scares that left us wanting to do better in the world as we moved into adulthood.  Growing up in a Jewish home antisemitism was rampant and I was the direct victim on many occasions. Going to Hebrew school for years, I was not shielded from the atrocities of the holocaust. And still it wasn’t until I visited Yad Vhshem at age 13  did the stark dark reality of genocide fully hit home. I knew that going to Rwanda meant that I had to go to that memorial site and pay respect. I had to face the horrors of this genocide with eyes wide open. I knew it would be painful and still nothing could prepare me for what I saw.

I knew the numbers, the casualties, and the death, rape torture mutilation but to listen to the stories of survivors in their own words (through video), to see their photos, to see their clothing hanging in display, and to see the skulls and bones of those a few bodies of the over one million that died was overwhelming and life altering.

One of the things I read was about a little girl whose parents were killed, and at four years old, she was orphaned and had to sleep under a banana tree. And she was one of hundreds of thousands of orphaned children. At that point in the museum, I had to find a quiet bench, and just allow myself to shed tears of deep horror and pain. Hundreds of thousands of people were left with no families. Hundreds of thousands of people are orphaned. It was beyond devastating to see the reality in front of my eyes to pictures and to hear their voices. What stood out the most is that the world stood by allowed this and even more horrifying, even encouraged it with the help of foreign support.  

We always ask ourselves, "how could this happen?" once it is all over. Yet, we see this type of atrocity repeated again and again. The museum did a great job explaining about the propaganda that went on to split people amongst each other. The imperialist-colonists started it and after a barrage of media campaigns, over an extended period of time, the people turned against each out in a way that brought mass destruction. While I stood there looking at photos and reading the history, I could not  help but reflect on the propaganda that is going on in  in the United States of America right now.  What happened in Rwanda is happening in other places of the world. It is happening in the land I call home. The propaganda that is being spread a dangerous seed. 

At the heart of much of the propaganda was racism and entitlement. The wreckage of colonialism and imperialism in Africa, and other pieces in the world, have led to some of the most horrific catastrophes. Here in Rwanda millions of people died because a European country decided that they had the right to the riches of the land and wanted to separate and split the people into hating each other so that they would prosper in the end.  There was no separation of ethnic groups until the colonizers made it so. Then, once there were two groups, they were pitted against each other until we were left we a genocide so horrible that there are no words to fully describe it. We saw on display some of the clubs, hoes, and other tools that were used to mutilate children, women and men; people whose only crime was that they were labeled a different ethnic group by the Europeans. The end result was genocide and trauma for those who lived. There are thousands and thousands of people who grew up without parents and their siblings, and I’ve had to make their way in the world, Karen, such deep, brutalizing trauma.

We were fortunate to meet a lovely fellow, who helped with transportation during our time in the city, and he felt comfortable enough to share with us that he was 3 years old Genocide happen. And that’s about all he said. I don’t ask anymore questions and I did not want to pry to pray. And, I didn’t really want to know. I had already seen enough to break my heart over and over. 

We left rocks on the mass grave site, a Jewish custom. There are about one hundred thousand people buried at the museum site but so many more were left on the sides of the roads, in ditches, or in their own homes. I also read a prayer written about forgiveness for the world. We must be aware of the past, and we must do what we can to help promote healing in the present so that the future does not repeat itself. It is the least we can do if we are to ever walk in balance with each other on this earth.

When I go home, I will share these things with my two small gems and with those who ask my travels. We must keep the truth alive.

Return to the Motherland (Rwanda & Uganda 2023)

 

Several months back, my heart brother Vincenzo (Enzo) mentioned he was going to Mombasa. My brother is getting is Ph.d  in human rights in London and his flat mate kindly invited him to join her family at their Mombasa vacation home during their February holiday. Long story short, Enzo wanted to travel into Uganda from Kenya but was not familiar with the country and did not want to be a solo traveler. And that is where I came in.

Don and I spent 3 days in Uganda approximately seventeen years ago. We honeymooned in Kenya and then made our way to see the magnificent mountain gorillas in the Congo, via Uganda. It was a most remarkable journey, and with only several days in Uganda, I wished I had seen more of the country. Me being me, I stayed in touch with Ken, our Ugandan guide for all these years. When I approached him about traveling with us, he did not hesitate for a second. Fast forward almost two decades and soon I was on a plane bound for East Africa.

The first leg our our journey would be Rwanda. There we would visit the genocide cites, do some reconciliation work amongst ourselves. I wanted to sit in a place of trauma and hold a space for love and healing and forgiveness. As have thousands before me have done. I also wanted to see a new part of Africa and connect with the people of Kigali (unfortunately, this would be the only stop in Rwanda, excluding the drive to the border). The three things that always stand out about traveling are the people that I meet, seeing the incredible natural world that the creator has manifested in physical form and of course there’s the food. Having been fortunate to have spent time in Kenya, Uganda, a day in the DCR and Egypt, I was excited to check out another part of the motherland. As I sit here and work on my blog in hotel, on one of the thousand hills of Kigali, listening to the sound of a wedding celebration just outside my door, I know that this was where I was meant to be in this moment and yet they were a few moments of doubt prior to setting foot on the motherland.

The preparation prior to leaving were a little bit different than other trips that I have taken. I found myself feeling anxious at times, more often than I was comfortable with. Upon inquiry, I realized what lay beneath. I have left the family to go on domestic, sojourns, as well as to take care of family but to go halfway across the globe without my two small gems was the trigger of my angst. It seems the older I get and  the closer I get to the other side of this human life, the more I become aware that there are dangers. That I am mortal. The idea of leaving and going so far away from my most precious people and not be able to see them or get back if there was a need, it poked at me like a thorn. In my meditation and check ins with my heart, I knew that there was no danger for me. Otherwise, I would have heeded any forewarning. It was more about the letting go, leaving them and what that meant on many levels. They are individuating, as am I. My two small gems are slowly but steadily becoming adults and need me less and less.. And I, too, am individuating in a different way, as I age and move towards a different stage of my life. But as a wise sister-in-law told me recently, they still need me to support them as they grow.  And the truth is also that we need each other. That helped me to remember that the bonds remain no matter where I am and that divine order truly does run things. When the fear arises, it is imperative that I remain to trust; that Creator is guiding and protecting on every level, in every situation. Even when there’s pain and suffering there is a divine order.  Once I faced my fears, sat with them, I was then able to move forward into the excitement of one of my greatest joys; traveling. 

With these things in my mind, and in my heart, I now I’ll find myself in Central East Africa, listening to beautiful music and the sound of laughter and joy of a couple celebrating their wedding, just outside the door. I sit here, relaxed in my ideal temperature where I am wearing no socks and a tank top. I feel the breeze blowing in the air and I am happy. I’m enjoying being in the moment and there is a welcome anticipation of what lies before me as we prepare to move forward on this most fortunate and beautiful adventure 

Below are some of the photos from the first few days.

#12

 

Amara is a busy bee who needs physical exercise to be her best self. She also needs social connection with peers.  I am glad that Amara has always enjoyed getting outside and being active. As she has begun settling into herself more, she has learned that team sports is sometimes a better fit as it meets both of those needs. 

When the girls were younger, I tried to find a local soccer team. I did not want to drive too far and that meant there were not many options. So Amara's outlet was gymnastics after school for many years and cross country with Girls on the Run in her lower elementary class. That was not enough for her. She really needs to move out her head, into her body. It's medicine for her heart, mind, soul. The social connections of sports are a much needed added benefit. Amara is a social gal, who at this tender teenage age, needs that social interaction. Sports has been such a wonderful way to access both. 

Amara has been working on her soccer skills. This year was only her second season but we see improvement. We wish the coach would play her more to give her more practice but some of the older teammates have been playing longer (and better) so that there is that reality. But Amara is a committed and loyal person. She plans on playing soccer throughout high school. She loves her coach Manesh and has formed some nice friendships with peers. And she loves it when they beat other teams (they are in 2nd place right now!) 

As the mama, I am thankful that Amara is fortunate to have these opportunities and outlets for her to be supported it, to be challenged in and to thrive in. 

Ri Ri (Rio)

 

Havana, being the cat whisper that she is, had asked Don and I, for a very long time, could we please foster kittens. I was initially resistant. I knew that I would end up taking care of them. But she persisted. It went on for at least a year.  She wanted to have kittens to take care of, to nurture and play with. Finally, and in part due to the pandemic and it's impact on social outlets and mental health, I relented.  Through some friends, we found a local rescue foundation and in the beginning of April 2022, we fostered a feral mama cat and her 5 kittens. 

Kittens are adorable. They are also alot of work. And, we had a runt that was barely 5 ounces that we were told may not make it. He would have to be fed every 2-3 hour throughout the day. It would be like having a baby again. Havana had no idea the commitment she had taken on and neither did the rest of us. But she is a kid and so it was quickly passed to me, this serious responsibility.  And then there were the  3 others healthy kitties and a fourth who was a bit underweight but not as severely as the runt.

 I am not sure if it was that grim prognosis, given with such finality that triggered my stubbornness to prove it wrong, but I set my heart to making sure this little guy got fed like clockwork.  The girls names most of the other kittens but I named him; Rio. He just felt like a Rio.  And it was not long before I'd come into their room (they were housed in the back in-law unit), and as soon as Rio would hear by voice, he'd drag his teeny self out of the kitty pile for feeding time. Often, because I was working, the feeding went quickly. But he always got lots of kisses, pets and songs. I made up a lot of songs to sing to them all.

Slowly, very slowly but surely, Ri Ri (as I soon nicknamed him) grew. Within a few weeks he was several ounces bigger and he was out of danger. And by that point, I was deeply in love.

Let me backtrack a moment. Don and I made it VERY clear to Havana, there would be no keeping of any of the kittens. We had 3 cats of our own and did not need another feline in the house. But that Ri Ri, when it came time to adopt them out, I just could not let him go. (and the others would be adopted out in bonded pairs, leaving him on his own).  The mere thought of him leaving us would caused me to burst into tears. For days, I sat with this decision. In the end, I just could not do it. He had long been brought into the house (long before the others had left for their new homes) and he just seemed to fit in. And so it was, that Rio became our newest family member. And the girls, well they were long over the moon about this little fella and they waited with bated breath over my decision.

While the humans in the house adore Rio, the four leggeds are not so sure. Samson doesn't want to be bothered. Simba kind of likes him and there are times when he will groom him. Kai will also groom Rio but mostly they play around and rough house. Rio gets a little over zealous at times, causing Kai to sometimes try to hid from him. But Rio just loves to play, he loves to be with others (humans and cats) and he is extremely affectionate.  He purrs most of the time and it's a loud purr at that. He is delightful and sweet. Sweetness is his essence. 

Rio has come a long way since his teeny tiny self. At 11 months, he is a chubby boy. Amara says he looks like a cat but identifies as a dog because of how much he loves to eat (he steals food from humans), how he follows us around and comes on command.  He loves to play catch with air ties. You can throw them, he'll retrieve them. He could do this for hours. He does think he is a dog!! However he sees himself, I am grateful he sees himself, and we see him, as part of our family.

Fall Follies

 

Other than being on strike for ten long weeks this fall, there were some other major highlights and memorable moments for our family.

Just before the summer officially ended, Havana had surgery to remove her tonsils. She had been having pain in her throat for a very, very long time. We saw the surgeon late last Spring and by that time, with all the summer plans made, we decided to wait until early September. We figured 2 weeks out of school would not be so terrible since Havana was not keen on return to Stewart. Who knew she'd be in a new school (and did not want to miss so much time from studies and friends) and that I'd be on strike for ten long weeks. That crazy thing was that I would be on the picket line before and during her surgery and that would be a day of bargaining. While Havana was upstairs in the OR at Oakland, I was downstairs on the line, with headphones in, trying to stay engaged to the half-baked negotiations that Kaiser was pretending to be doing.

Thankfully, the surgery went well. Two weeks of post-op rest was no walk in the park. But Havana is a warrior and she made it through. It was very hard however, to see my girl just pre-op. I said my prayers to the Great Creator, to keep her safe and, give thanks, all went well.

My spiritual teacher/mother, Bella once said to me, "If you knew what was going to happen, yo would not leave the house." That has proven true too many times to count.

While those two events  were quite a bit taxing, we had some wonderful moments as well. Last Spring, my bio dad told me about a half sister (from my grandfather's side) that I did not know about (well I did find out about 2 years ago but could not find her without his input and it was not until this year that he felt comfortable sharing it). Long story short, I found her and and we have been in touch since April. This Fall, when my Tia traveled to Las Vegas from Key West with some of her family, I joined them. It was a bittersweet reunion. My aunt Martha is a lovely, warm, kind, funny and adventurous person. I had picked up on these qualities before met and in person, she was even more solid and down to earth. I was left feel deeply, deeply thankful to have her in my life but equally as angry that no one told me about her until now. I am going to hold tight to this relationship and plan on bringing the family to Florida soon so they too can get to know Tia Martha.

Also, this Fall, the whole family went to see Elton John for his farewell tour. It was Amara's second concert but Havana's first. We were literally in the nose bleeds; the last row! But, we could see him on the screen and hear his unmistakable, powerhouse voice, clearly through the speakers. I really wanted the girls to experience a musical legend such as Elton John and I too, wanted to hear him live. It was a great night for all.

During the strike, I had volunteered to do attend some political events to help garner support for our cause. I got to meet some interesting political figures, from the Lt. Governor, to the SF city attorney and eventually the Mayor Sacramento, who meditated to help us finally settle the contact. I normally don't give a crap about public figures or celebrities. I care about who a person is. But; when I got to meet Speak Pelosi, that was something different. She is not only one of the most powerful people in the US government but when I heard her speak (and later than got to speak with her, to thank her for sending a letter to the Kaiser CEO on our behalf), I knew she was a woman with a kind, generous heart and a spine of steel. A warrior. It was an honor to meet her. I might not agree with all her policies but overall, she is one solid sister. What a special opportunity.   

The strike meant a lot of new experiences. The other stand out was participating in a die-in, in front of Kaiser headquarters. I had never heard of this form of civil action and I had no idea what would be it's impact. Well, Kaiser was not pleased, calling it a 'scorch the earth' tactic in a public statement to the media. I was left proud of our action.

at the die-in

This Fall also meant another year around the sun for me. The family made it a special day but perhaps the most touching thing was that my friend Mike and his wife Noelle (they are more like family), sent 3 dozen New York bagels from our favorite bagel shop, Murray's Bagels. OMG! There went my diet! But it was so worth it. We ate bagels for weeks. (nothing like taking a frozen NY bagel out, putting it the oven for few minutes.) On my actual birthday, well it got off to a rocky start (I'll just say, teenagers in the house) but then we headed up to Petaluma for thrifting and an impromptu dinner with friends (at a place called, what else, New York Pizza!) It was a warm, sunny day, which I was so appreciative of. With so much time and energy going into the strike, it was nice to take a break from it all. The girls love thrifting, I love the North Bay, Don likes to go to new places. It really was a sweet day.

at a gallery/gift shop in Petaluma.

This Fall, our niece and the girls cousin, Jenny, turned 50. We celebrated her milestone day down in Santa Cruz, cheering her on, as she completed her first triathlon. It was inspiring and an honor to share the day with Jenny, who is a remarkable person and someone that we love and respect deeply. The other highlight of the day was that the girls got to spend quality, fun time with their Aunt Judy, Uncle Tim and cousins Ben and Theo (Jenny's boys). We even had a sleep out at Tio/Tia's the night before. Havana made a lasagna that became legend by the time Thanksgiving rolled around.

On the topic of Thanksgiving, (or as I call it 'Save the Turkey Day'), we gathered at Edd/Janet's with much of the Coughlin clan. There were a few missing sadly,  but it was very nice to be with family in person again. The cousins, both young and old, had a great time hanging out, playing games, telling jokes and breaking bread together. Some special memories were made for sure.

And now, we are almost into the first official days of winter. It has been cold. Cold enough for there to be frost warnings. Cold enough to have to start the car in the morning before you get in. But as we approach yet another change in season, I am thankful all that we have gone through; the hard, the challenging, the good, the memorable. This life, it is both a school and a playground. I am thankful we have the chance to experience it all.

    

Trick or Treat (Halloween 2022)

For the first time since the girls we little, our favorite holiday, Halloween, had a little less pizazz.  And that felt a tad bit sad.

Amara is a sophomore in high school, Havana a middle schooler. They are more concerned with hanging out with friends than hanging out in a pumpkin patch. Sure, they into their costume designing and decorating the front yard with creepy goblins, coffins, and skeletons. But when it came down to Halloween night, Havana opted last minute to stay near her school, to do trick or treating with school pals (and that meant she did not have her awesome parking cone costume with her and no photos this year). Amara ended with just two friends, trick or treating in our neighborhood, without any adults.

In years past, we have a half a dozen or so kids gather, eat pizza and then head out for a couple of hours of sugar hunting. Every year, from the time they were months old, Don and I would be with the girls,  knocking on doors in the beginning, to staying back on the side walks when they were old enough to knock themselves, and always walking until our feet hurt. But as I mentioned, things have changed. I have girls that are teens; they are growing and changing; becoming more of who they are, and as they figure that out along the way, it means a shift in some of our family routine. And that meant our favorite holiday looked a little different. Havana did her own thing, Amara doing her thing, and Don and I not even being part of any of it. I am happy for their independence but sad at the same time.  

This all feels bittersweet. I am thankful for the years of sweet memories and I am grateful that my two small gems have a full, rich life, with friends, creative hearts and a love of Halloween that lives on. Even though it looks a little different. 

Back to School (8th & 10th years)

 

Back to school  it that what the title of this blog post says? Isn’t it almost Christmas? What the heck Anjahni? Yes yes yes. The ten week strike that ended at the end of October took almost everything out of me. With my commitment to the bargaining committee, running a hardship fund for those on the picket lines, being on the strike line myself as well as being a steward; all these things took everything out of me for ten long weeks. I’m still recovering. I’ve been thinking about when I would have the energy to get back to the blog and document some of the milestones of my two small gems.  This morning at 5:15 AM I woke up, inspired at last to get to writting. So yes, back to school is this blog post, written in December. 

This August Havana and Amara started 8th and 10th grads respectively. Let's start with Ms Havana as she had a quite a big change.  Havana started school at a new school, The Canyon School. We pulled her out of Montessori family after six grade and put it into a public school for seventh grade. For a multitude of reasons, it just wasn’t a great fit. Teachers left early in the year and never came back, the kids were not kind and a little too grown up for Havana, who operates from a different place.  She started telling us at the end of the last school year that she was refused to return to Steward but we had no choice at that time to let her know she would have to return to the same. school. But at the same time, we put it out to the universe to please find a place for Havana to go to school, if it was for her highest and best good. 

And apparently it was

Two weeks before the start of the school year, I happen to be in front of my computer late one evening, and this email popped up, saying that there was openings at The Canyon School. The Canyon School as a public Montessori/Waldorf style school in Canyon California. It sits in the redwood forest just outside of Moraga. I has put Amara on Caynon's waitlist when she was four years old.  It was not meant to be for Amara but when I saw that they had an opening for 8th grade, I couldn’t believe it.  Canyon is a very coveted school, with only 75 children,  with mixed age classrooms. I immediately sent an email to the school and long story short, two weeks later, Havana was starting school in this precious little school house in the redwood forest. I personally felt so relieved that she was going to be able to finish up her middle school years in a Montessori type setting. I always loved Montessori family school and was sad when we had to leave when Havana finished upper elementary. Returning to a Montessori inspired school felt like the universe supporting Havana in a place where she learns well as well as having closure to finish her last year before high school in this academic environment.

The school, because it is public, adheres to much different standards than the private sector. So we are seeing improvements in area of math and other areas. She did learn a lot in her previous Montessori environment, but math was always lacking and she needed support in other areas as well. Havana could definitely apply herself a little bit more in school and that would help her but this new environment has given the academic structure and lessons to allow her to really move forward.  

While the academics have been up to par, I know that the social environment is equally or more important at this age. Havana’s 6/7/8 classroom has allowed for a bigger pool of friends. The school just happens to be a little bit bigger. There’s eight kids in her grade and 26 total in the class, Havana has found a little group of people and she has told me she feels much more comfortable with the type of students that attend Canyon. She told me “they have hippie moms too.” When I asked questions around what that meant, she told me that the other kids seem down to earth and more approachable. She’s gone out on multiple social outings with her friends after school on weekends and even felt comfortable to have her first sleepover ever. Havana has always done things when she’s ready and apparently this year she was ready to do have a sleepover and having the right school environment with friends that were more aligned with her supported that. We hope that the rest of the year goes smoothly for Havana and that she is well prepared for high school come next fall.

Amara, has started 10th grade, which I can't wrap my head around. She started school with a bang, joining what seems a million clubs and signing up for two art classes, making her schedule quite full. She decided to try out tennis this fall and continues to fill her social circle. She’s learning who her friends are and who aren’t. As Amara comes more into herself, she’s learning more of what she appreciates in others and who she enjoys spending her time with. She is still finding her way with who her peeps are at Bentley but a few girls have remained in her inner-circle and she remains close to her two pals from MFS. Amara is a social person so having a balance between school and social activities is important for her. Even with sports, being on a team, those things nourish Amara.

For Don and I the new year has been an adjustment. Getting Havana to her new school and Amara to her school has been quite the challenge. Tons of driving and with the price of gas over five dollars a gallon, well it’s been hitting us financially as well. I don’t think the kids are able to quite appreciate the sacrifices we are making. I’m seeing that teenagers are very much all about themselves but we do get the occasional thank you and the fact that they are doing well in their respective schools shows, and have healthy social lives, makes it worth it.

As we get close to Christmas and the first here half of the school year coming to close, both girls are very excited about trips in 2023. Amara was selected to go to England in March to study Shakespeare. To say she is excited is an understatement. She’s preparing to do some work over the winter break to help support her trip. 

Havana's school sends the 8th years to Costa Rica for 10 days each May.  The cost is covered by the school but we do have to prepare her mentally and emotionally to travel so far from home for that long. She’s not quite there yet but she’s getting there. I think the fact that she’s been to Costa Rica and she feels so comfortable with her school will support her and making a decision to go. 

So there it is, the back to school blog post completed in December. I trust that the girls will both have  great rest of the school year. And next year Havana goes to high school and Amara will be a junior. I just can’t believe how fast they’ve been growing, how fast the years go by. 

So here’s to the 2022-2023 school year, a little late

Strike

 

I am sitting here in the Sacramento City Hall conference hall, with the Mayor of Sacramento, my union colleagues from our union bargaining committee and Kaiser executives from their bargaining committee. 

What does all this mean? It means that I have been working with my union, as a bargaining committee member since July of 2021. It has been one of the most challenging, stressful, enlightening and brain stretching experiences in many years. As a union steward, I felt I wanted to represent those who in the behemoth Kaiser system need support when Kaiser is not upholding our contract. As a bargaining committee member, I wanted to have a seat at the table for those who are not the majority of clinicians (generalists in mental health), to make sure our needs are met.  I knew Kaiser did not care about patient care, that the bottom line of profits and good public image what their main priority. What I did not know was that they cared so little and were so unconcerned with our issues that they would drag out bargaining for a year, until we went on an open ended strike on August 15th, 2022. 

Myself and my colleagues thought it might last 2-3 weeks. What we did not expect was for Kaiser to try to wait us out, stalling a return to the bargaining committee for 4 weeks, leaving a majority of the 2060 therapists on the strike line, without pay and left with a deepening understanding of how little Kaiser cares for mental health and their therapists. 

The crux of this long fight is that patient access for mental health patients. They have waited up to 8 weeks for return appointments. The other issue is that that therapists do not have enough time to do their work. We have direct patient care and in-direct patient care. There is not enough in-direct patient care. Kaiser has not wanted to budge on our proposal to improve this condition. They are instead focused on the new law, SB221, which our union helped pass. Essentially, the law dedicates that a clinic must be seen within ten business days if the clinician finds it medically necessary. Another law we just helped pass, SB 858, increased violation fines from $2500 to $2500. If the Department of Managed Health enforced this, it would mean significant shift in Kaiser's precious bottom line (which was $8 billion in profit last year, along with $50+ billion in reserves). During one of our last bargaining meetings, Kaiser told me directly that "you passed SB221, you dug your own graves and we are not going forward."  That confirmed my long standing belief that Kaiser was punishing us and that they really don't care about patient care. As health providers and health insurers, they are about providing as little care as possible for maximum profit. They have a non-profit branch but they also have a for profit branch.

Having been part of this process, seeing all of this, it has triggered a deep introspection on what I do and who I want to work for. It has reminded me that these corporate giants are functioning on egos that are deeply wounded are trying to fill their wound with power, money, sex, food, etc. In this case, it is image, money, power. The huge ego of this corporation is evident of a seriously flawed system that is run by individuals trying to fill their wounds, the holes with this power and money. And this is NEVER the best way to run mental health clinics, where we are supporting the healing process of human hearts, souls and minds. 

To say that this experience has changed me, shifted how I life, impacted my family, those in my life, is an understatement. Even now, a month after I started this post, I find it hard to finish it and to post it. We settled the contract, after 10 long weeks but our brothers and sisters in Hawai'i remain on strike, with no end in site. The agreements we made with Kaiser have being delayed with obvious stall tactics.  I returned to a clinic with the same access issues, with patients waiting up to and longer than 6 months to do an intake. But my voice is more solid. My confidence not as wobblily.  My commitment to do the right thing remains steadfast and I am doing what I can to ensure patient's get the care they need/deserve and pay more along with steering them in the direction on how to self-advocate. This process, working in this system, has shown me that this is they was capitalism, that health care and profits should not go in the same sentence and how reminded me just how spiritually bankrupt we are as a culture. 

Not only did I and my colleagues, along with thousands of patients pay the price of being out for 10 weeks, my family and the families of my colleagues suffered as well. The sacrifice I made to bargain, to run a hardship fund, to answer texts and calls, to educate, redirect and reframe the narrative of the truth of what was going on, all this and more, it made an impact on my family. I told my girls repeatedly, that sometimes we have to stand up for what is right, and this case, mental health parity was/is an issue for our time. We have all done something so much bigger than ourselves but we have paid a hefty price, figuratively and literally.  I was exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally by the end. Spiritually, I felt I was tapping into Source more, which was supportive. But it was a huge battle, one that we won, sort of and truth be told, one that is on-going and may be for some time to come. 

I sincerely hope that my children's witnessing of something like this so up close as they did, that it planted seeds inside of them that will grow; seeds of standing up for what is right; to speak up for what is wrong; to fight only for what you feel called to fight for; to lay down your sword when it is time; to not let ego and pride get in the way of your cause and in fighting for your cause.