About the Author
In Her Own Words
Typically, I am an author of clinical works writing to bring healing and hope to others. Of course, there is always a piece of me and of my experiences in them as well. When I sat down and started writing Mountain Air, I did so solely for my own recovering. Writing is a significant tool that I utilize in my healing process. It wasn’t until after I finished the very rough and rambling first draft that I felt it may be of benefit to others. Even then, I wasn’t sure. It took many more rewrites, time away from the drafts, and the integration of a stronger, more powerful voice into my being which ultimately fueled my desire to share my narrative with you.
Mountain Air, as you have read, is a unique perspective into the topic of relapse and recovering from it. As you know now, I based this work on my own debilitating decline into emotional relapse. I shared with you how returning to my betrayal environment of my youth precipitated the relapse, and I described how the myriad of triggers within those surroundings exacerbated my struggle. I also disclosed the unearthing of a deeply embedded injury from my childhood—a sexual assault—which was at the core of my descent into relapse. Throughout the writing of Mountain Air, it was always my intention to make this book about the emotional and psychological challenges that accompany any kind of relapse—shame, self-blame, guilt—after sustaining a period of wellness, of sobriety, or of integrity to one’s way of being. At the same time, I am guessing that there are many readers who are wondering why I did not fully disclose the details of the abuse I endured. I want to explain why. There are two explanations; both are extremely important to me.
First, it is my belief that individuals, even those who share common abuse experiences, heal differently and uniquely. For many, it is extremely helpful and healing to share their experiences in a very public forum and to include the details of their injuries or injustices. Indeed, there are many celebrities as well as non-celebrities who have shared their most private and painful stories on television as well as through other media venues. Their narratives reach out and help many people; they educate and inform others; and hopefully, most importantly, the survivors themselves experience additional healing each time they reveal their histories. For me, and many others like myself, this is not the case. My healing came in the trusting of two therapists and in the process that it took to peel off the layers of injury—a little at a time and over a lengthy period of time. In the safe harbor of experienced, nurturing therapists, I was able to disclose all the intimacies of my pain. However, in the retelling of the abuse, I do relive it and thus, I re-traumatize myself. I also feel as though I give my power over to the betrayers and that I diminish my “voice” in doing so. Therefore, I must value my healing truth. I choose to keep my experiences contained because in doing so, I am respecting myself and my choices, and I am honoring my betrayal experiences with the dignity and grace that serve me well.
Secondly, and as importantly, I do not want to be remembered as a survivor of abuse who endured a litany of injustices. I want my legacy to be one of renewal and of refinement. In my last book, Breaking Through Betrayal: And Recovering The Peace Within, I talk about the difference of being “defined by our betrayal experience” or of being “refined by it”. It is paramount that my recovering message to you be one of “moving beyond being defined by our survival identity and embracing the opportunity to become a more effective being and to be more elegant in the process”. I want others to remember how I taught them to seek ways to enhance and cultivate new ways of being, and that I encouraged and motivated them to act upon those choices. It is vital that when others think of my writing and my works that they will find and embrace the excitement in polishing, perfecting, and honing their continued journeys, and that they will cease to be encumbered by the labeling as a post-abuse being. From my book, Breaking Through Betrayal, I challenged you to release your self-label and to capture your refinement—who you are now and what you have become:
“I want you to think of yourself as a gem—a diamond. You dug yourself out of the deepest recesses of a dark mine; you allowed yourself to be chiseled, and chipped; you chose the process of being precisely crafted and uniquely shaped into a new form. You have prepared yourself for the final touch—the polishing. As you gently cultivate and hone the intimacies and intricacies of your being, your elegance will surface. As the polishing process proceeds, feel the purity, the true value, and the authenticity of the precious stone, of you, come through.”
If I am to honor my refinement, I must live it out—not just for myself but also as an example to you. If I am going to leave the legacy that I hope to, I must safeguard the integrity of my healing tenants, and I must hold steadfast to my truths. As your healing journey unfolds, I encourage you to do the same.
With wellness and warmth,
Holli
Breaking Ground (Aug. 1990)
Alexis grows up amongst the pines
Home (Garner Valley, CA)
Dan enjoying free time
Mom and Alexis (2011)
Home (2011 – Prescott, AZ)
Acknowledging our paths
Loving Healing Press, Inc.—
Publisher Victor Volkman, Editor Ernest Dempsey, and Staff
Our paths first crossed in the Winter of 2009,
Thank you for your unwavering belief in my work,
And for your commitment to empowering the healing community.
Lani Stoner—
Fellow Therapist and Trusting Friend
Our paths connected in the Fall of 2008,
Thank you for your extraordinary talents in editing, revising, and clarifying,
And for your continual investment into the wellness of others.
Diana Cinatl—
Longtime Teacher Colleague and Forever Friend
Our paths intersected in the Summer of 1988,
Thank you for your ability to fine-tune a piece of writing,
And for the immeasurable compassion you gift upon others.
Dan Kenley and Alexis Shoemate—
Loving Husband and Precious Daughter:
Our paths have joined and intertwined over a lifetime,
Thank you for loving me through the journeys,
And for the joy of loving you in return.
Bibliography
______(1985). Al-anon’s twelve steps & twelve traditions. New York: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc.
Beattie, M. (1987). Codependent no more: How to stop controlling others and start caring for yourself. Center City, MN: Hazelden.
Beattie, M. (1989). Beyond codependency: And getting better all the time. New York: Harper & Row.
Beattie, M. (2009). The New Codependency; Help and guidance for today’s generation. New York: Simon & Shuster Paperbacks.
Gilbert, E. (2006). Eat, pray, love: One woman’s search for everything across Italy, india, and indonesia. New York: Penguin Books.
Kenley, H. (2010). Breaking through betrayal: And recovering the peace within. Ann Arbor, MI: Loving Healing Press.
Lawrence-Lightfoot, S. (2009). The third chapter: Passion, risk, and adventure in the 25 years after 50. New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux.
Markova, D. (2000). I will not die an unlived life: Reclaiming purpose and passion. Berkeley, CA: Conari Press.
Morrow Lindbergh, A. (2003). Gift from the sea. New York: Pantheon Books.
Nerburn, K. (2002). Neither wolf nor dog: On forgotten roads with an indian elder. Novato, CA: New World Library.
Nerburn, K. (2009). The wolf at twilight: An indian elder’s journey through a land of ghosts and shadows. Novato, CA: New World Library.
…And a Source of Inspiration…
I would like to acknowledge author Kent Nerburn whose writings—Neither Wolf Nor Dog and the Wolf at Twilight inspire me.
Thank you for their imagery, wisdom, and spirit.
One—Mountain Fire
Summer 2008
In July 2008, I chose to return to the environment of my youth. No one encouraged me or coerced me. I did so of my own free will. I felt like a foreigner feigning blending in and yet fighting to insulate myself from the toxins around me. Coming from a mountain habitat, the surrounding landscape shocked my system and strangled my senses. The air was grayish-brown with a hint of blue struggling to break through the giant igloo encapsulating the valley. The smells from the sprawling agricultural fields triggered reminders of planes scattering pesticides and my sinuses burned as I breathed in microscopic pollutants. Just beyond the walls of the manicured development where we purchased our new home were clusters of over-crowded animal farms. The feeding corrals and the piles of manure blended into one mass of fermented fumes. Each time I drove by the nauseous odor, I felt sickened by the inhumanity of it all and questioned its existence.
On a still day, while out walking in my neighborhood, I could hear the traffic noises from the nearby congested interstate with massive trucks hauling goods from farms to be placed onto railroad containers. Nightly, as a nearby army depot came alive, I listened to the crashing sounds of loading cargo onto trains with their tired horns signaling their departure to unknown places. The seasonal pressures and demands from crops of valley life created a frantic static in the air that slowly seemed to crowd out the calm from within.
The intense heat of the July summer days brought back memories from childhood as well as a young woman of escaping to cooler ground and of wanting to be anywhere else other than where I was. Even in the evenings when the vast flatlands seemed to sigh as the delta breezes brought relief to their parched crops, I found myself searching for some form of fresh air, some sort of reprieve from the oppression that was forming around me. By the end of the first week, I lay in bed at night thinking about the mountain environment I left. I missed it; I longed for it. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to recapture the beauty of living in the mountains, and I began to replay its purpose in my life.
* * *
Leaving the desert floor and climbing up a steep windy unpredictable road, the terrain begins to change. Every so often, cacti and sand are replaced with ocotillo clutching massive boulders and century plants struggling to secure space to sprout and then to blossom. A surprise patch of verbena soothes the eye with clusters of wild flowers sprinkling the rocky floor. Ascending further, the topography rapidly changes its dressing, filling out and filling in the openings both on the ground and in the sky. Wild sagebrush is sandwiched amongst the soaring pines and stunted poplars. Jagged rocks make room for smooth mounds of river rock snuggled amidst the lush green grasses and secret streams. The wind finds its voice as it rustles through the forest tapestry. Suddenly, the serene beauty is transformed by the cry of a nearby eagle soaring from tree top to tree branch or by the startled sound of a squirrel scampering across the road seeking refuge. Following the twists and turns of the road while navigating even higher, one last image completes the picture of perfection—a sprawling bonanza-like valley. And this is home.
Choosing to live here was no accident; it was indeed purposeful. At first sight of this hidden treasure, magical memories from childhood summers sprang forth of mountain escapades with rowdy cousins, and a longing for the freedoms experienced during those carefree days demanded replication. With the purchase of a lot and with the creative powers of many, a human nest was carefully framed and formed high on a hill overseeing the magnificence before it and yet sharing in it. A family settled in and life began to shape itself around the womb of wonder that nourished it. Connecting with Nature became a continual source of renewal and growth. Long walks alone down a quiet mountain road covered in a rug of pine needles produced opportunities to shed the human cloak of heaviness and to release the inner trappings of turmoil. Gathering fallen pine cones and studying the intricacies of each unique shape provided comfort that even with the broken shapes and crushed thorny leaves, their beauty was not diminished. Witnessing the thunderous storms that washed clean the dry needles from thirsty trees and lifted the aromas from the parched plants refreshed the hope that a way of being can be revived or even made better. And after almost twenty years of embracing the secret gifts of Nature came the confidence of finding, nurturing and becoming a person of authenticity and of truth—my truth.
* * *
As I lay in the dark quiet night reflecting upon the images of mountain life, I couldn’t help but question my decision to return to my central valley home.
Why did I choose to abandon all that formed the foundation of a sound mind, body, and spirit?
Why did I move back to an environment that had again proven unworthy of return and of my reinvestment?
Why—after all my work to become the real me—would I risk losing myself?
Why had I come here?
As I often did when I was troubled or confused, I turned to Nature and the lessons She taught me over the years. Whether it was in direct contact with Her or drawing on a memory of Her, the ripe teachings within Nature were always there for the devouring. My mind desperately scoured Nature’s harvest and recalled such a message from a dozen summers ago.
* * *
When a forest fire swept through the dry foliage near our mountain home, residents were evacuated as were their horses and other beloved animals. Because of the fearless firemen who were stationed close by, there was no loss of human or domesticated life. However, the wild life—plant and animal—did not fare as well. For a lengthy stretch of miles and an unknown amount of acreage, there was complete devastation. For months, each day driving by the barren landscape with charred limbs and deformed trunks angled mercilessly into its blackened soil, my heart ached. Questions flooded my mind as to causation and yet no answers surfaced. No one came to rebuild or to replant. The summer passed without rescue; the crusted canvass remained foreign among its living distant relatives. Mother Earth remained still, and She waited. One truth lay dormant—fertile soil awaited Her return and Her re-growth.
* * *
As I thought about how I was losing myself in the inner flames of confusion, I remembered the stillness of the charred landscape. Although Nature did not provide me with the answers as to why I chose to enter my fiery betrayal environs or how they were so easily torching my ways of being, for now
She provided me with the one truth I needed. With Her fertile life lessons and guidance, I would find my way back.
Chapter 1—Topics for Journaling & Recovery Work
- Think about a period of time in your life or an episode when you chose to abandon the foundations of your healthy way of being. Write about this experience with as much detail and description as possible. Take your time and face your truths. Discuss what you lost of yourself in the process.
- Thinking back upon your experience, also describe your initial feelings and emotions that accompanied this period of relapse or regression. As you identify them; write about why these feelings are so painful to acknowledge. How do these feelings influence and impact your way of being? How do these feelings play a part in the hold that relapse has on you?