"Family is not always Blood. It is the people in your life who want you in theirs, the ones who accept you for who you are, the ones who would do anything for you, and love you no matter what"

I have a high school friend we nicknamed "Buddha". I used to think it was because he had a pronounced paunch and balding head. But over time, I came to think his name mirrored his beatific beauty as a person. 

That all said, Buddha became a mess. Once a star baseball slugger, he had one leg amputated, is wheelchair bound, very heavy, has heart problems, diabetes...and a number of addictions. Naturally, money is always a problem.

One day eight years ago, four of us flew into his Montana home from our East and West Coast homes to try to get him back on his proverbial feet. We cleaned his house, hung his tv, fixed his car, bought him clothes and groceries, searched for a new church, gave him money and spent three days with the pure focus of helping and loving on Buddha. 

On the second night, we organized a dinner to include the five of us, his mom, sister, neice and her bf. The table was spread, candles lit, fireplace burning, but Buddha's mom was nowhere to be seen. His sister went upstairs and, you guessed it, their mom had passed, perhaps (and I think we all thought this) in happiness and relief to know her son is loved.

Going through her dresser, Buddha's sister found a bank deposit receipt with those words etched in longhand: "Family is not always Blood. It is the people in your life who want you in theirs, the ones who accept you for who you are, the ones who would do anything for you, and love you no matter what". Wow. It was like she predicted that moment. 

The whole evening took on another, almost ghostly glow at that point. I came to believe that Buddha's mom had somehow summoned us to his side before her death. It was an eerie, yet beautiful gathering.

We left the next day. Continued efforts were made, but to be honest, Buddha is still at high risk. He stopped loving himself and, failing that, just can't be content in this world. We did what we could, but it all starts with ourselves. I'm sorry to say that I feel his time has already passed, leaving him to live a sad and lonely life.  

In looking at my own family, I see exactly what Buddha's mom meant. I'm blessed with a great many close and loving friends, but just a few family members who live up to Buddha's mom's definition of Blood. I've accepted that fate in this life, and focus my gratitude and energy on those who love me as I love them, treat them like Blood even if they're not. 

Thank you, Buddha's mom, for making clear the significance of Blood relationships outside our families. 

"Emotional trauma lives in the body"

In 2017, I rode the Baja desert on a dirt motorcycle from San Diego towards Cabo. We rode like devils, ripped it up, bought fresh fish tacos from villagers for pocket change, and rolled up in plastic tarps like human tacos at night when it got chilly. Most of us got hurt. But it was a lifelong dream, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I'd just ride a little slower. 

I say I rode "towards" Cabo because, at a point just about half-way, a tree branch got stuck in my front spokes, and I took a high-speed dive over the handlebars. I think I was dead for a while, and had I not been in peak physical condition--ripped head to toe--I may have stayed dead. Broke my neck, collarbone, ribs and whacked my hips and lower back. Took me two days and a baggy of Mexican painkillers just to get home.

My then-wife was not pleased at all. As was her habit, she screamed at the top of her lungs at length for the whole neighborhood to hear. I passed out on the couch.

When I awoke at sunrise, she was standing over me, arms folded, bag packed, hips swayed, tapping her toe. I felt relief in the notion that she might be leaving me, such was the trauma of that moment and the state of our union. 

"I'm taking our daughter to Paris for the week." Wow. What ever happened to, in sickness and health? What kind of example does that set for our kids? How was I going to manage all the doctors that week alone? Where was the love? I passed out again.

A long two years later, I ended the marriage. Not just because of that painful moment, but yes it was always top of mind. To leave me laying there all broken up, was more than I could process or accept. We each did and said things in the downward spiral of our life together that we'd take back today. But nothing came close to that. I could never. 

The pain of those physical injuries stuck like glue. Pain most or all of the day, most days. I tried everything. When Heather told me the trauma of that and other betrayals laid deep in my body, I believed her, but as hard as I tried, I couldn't find release. I came to accept that I'd live that way the remainder of my years.

Five years after I filed, my ex finally signed the papers. And guess what? My back straightened out and the pain went away like magic!

So the moral to this story is, if you are experiencing physical trauma that may be related to psychological trauma, do what you can to release the latter. Get help, open your heart, and learn to let go. Perhaps I am weak, or I was hurting in a particularly bad way, hard to tell. But knowing what I've now learned, it's true, "Emotional trauma lives in the body" and treating it can alleviate your physical pains.  

Thank you, Heather George, for a wonderful and loving two years together, and for teaching me this and other invaluable life lessons.