Diane's Detox...Let's Heal

INTRODUCTION
My mother has been telling me for over 30 years, “Diane, you should write a book.”

As a child I wrote poems for homemade cards and articles for school newspapers. As an adult I continue to write poems for special occasions, I’ve had a few newspaper articles published on natural healthcare and I contribute a “Ways to Wellness” column to a mag-ezine called TruthSeekerTimes.com, so I have always been writing. I have been told that is what I should do.

I just never believed I would find the time to write a book.

A real book.

But then I never thought my 51 year old husband would die either.

The happiest day of our lives together ended abruptly when he had a completely unexpected heart attack nine months ago. We had just reconciled after a brief separation and our future was so bright. Unfortunately, the light we were seeing at the end of the tunnel turned out to be the proverbial train and it hit him head on. He died at the height of his career and my life train derailed and caused a huge wreck in my world.

Nine months later I think it is safe to say much of the debris from the wreck has been cleared and my train is back on track and gaining steam. In the process of trying to heal from the heart ache of losing my soul mate and best friend I have done some serious self study, researched many new healing techniques and, apparently, given birth to my first real book.

If my husband hadn’t died I might have found the time to write a book about the self healing techniques I teach and some information on Natural Law Theories. I think I would have called that book, “I Met a Fiddle Player on My Way to the Ashram.” I think a book about a Yogini-Caregiver-Carpenter married to a famous-traveling-Musician-Luthier-Pilot would have been extremely entertaining.

The story of how we met, his successful musical career, the building of our homes and the trips we’d taken on land and sea, for work and pleasure, would have made a comical adventure novel. That book may have even inspired a few readers to begin doing yoga, meditation, eat better or breathe more deeply to improve their quality of life.

There also would have been a chapter dedicated to the “dos and don’ts” of being married to a musician, and trust me, I had the “don’ts” down pat. Don’t eat in front of him when he is on stage and hungry, don’t yawn while he is performing, don’t sit too close to the stage because people who want to talk to you don’t realize how difficult it is to block out what your wife is talking about, and don’t try to drink as much as the professional does; are just a few the things I learned in the 9 years I spent with Fiddlin’ Red.

I learned a lot about myself while my husband was alive; he was my best friend, my worst critic and my most vivid mirror. We were both obsessive-addictive-co-dependent-competitive personalities. We had acquired, in our short 51 years of life, a whole list of behaviors we ‘baby-boomers’ are beginning to talk about more openly. Where there is communication and realization there is hope.

During our nine years together, I realized we all have imperfections and how important it is, especially when in a relationship, to work on being a better human being through compassion, understanding, peace and acceptance.

I have learned even more about myself, human nature, life and life after life since his passing.
Apparently self-improvement is a never-ending job.

I believe the story I have written now of the thoughts and events and how I coped with things I’ve had to cope with following Red’s heart attack is more important than the humorous adventure novel I might have written. There were so many things we could have done, should have done, to make life easier for the “one left behind.”

Losing my husband has been a little different for me than it would be for most people. We had one of those wonderful “long distance marriages,” so I am used to being by myself. We talked several times daily on our cell phones, sent text messages often and loved each other very much. He traveled around the southeast playing music while I spent most of my time in Dixie County, helping heal the earth, one person at a time.

It seems like Red died yesterday and then it seems like years ago. But really it still just seems like it can’t be possible. It didn’t really happen. It couldn’t have. I can still hear his music, his laughter and see his smile. Then, I realize, he’s still here. He always will be.

I am proud to say I never asked God, “Why?”

Oh, I asked The Universe what caused his physical body to die but I never questioned why he was taken from this dimension on the happiest day of our lives together.

I realize he left at the very peak of his life. We were together. We were so happy and I believe there are no mistakes.

I began to keep a journal to try to force my mind to stop reliving the nightmare of his death over and over again. If I wrote about my accomplishments and focused on the positive aspects and how blessed I was, I believed I could stop the scene of “Red’s Tragic Heart Attack” from playing in my mind.

Keeping a journal of events, thoughts and feelings allows me to see how my mood does not have to be affected by the changes in my life.

Watching myself and The Universe very closely makes me realize “how” I feel when things happen is entirely up to me.

Recognizing the miracles happening daily in my world is helping me move forward. It is important for me to move forward and I know every step I take is a forward one, even when I stumble.

Keeping a journal also allows me to share the laughter and the tears with others while I am learning, stumbling and picking myself up again.

I hope this book helps someone, somewhere, sometime. Facing life alone isn’t easy, and I know I am never really alone, but there are things we can do to make it easier for our loved ones when we die.

My mother explained to me at my last visit my father has put her name on both of their vehicles. I have already helped one very important couple make the transition to being alone a little easier.

Perhaps with this story I can also help some understand the miracles of life and death and Natural Law Theories as I see them. This book was written to help me heal and hopefully it can help you too.

July 1998………………………………………Setting the Stage
Before I share the events of my life following my husband’s death, or better, the events of my life following the beginning of Red’s life in eternity, I must set the stage. Setting the stage will help you understand why I felt the way I did after 9 years of love, laughter and life on the road with one of the greatest entertainers who ever lived; a gifted musician and my soul mate, Lawrence “Fiddlin Red” Seidman.

The year was 1998 and I wasn’t keeping a journal then. I was quite happy with my position in life and much too busy to try to write down everything that was happening. I was 42 years old. I’d accomplished many things throughout the years and I was getting ready to start on a completely new life. I was headed for an ashram in California to dedicate my life to God.

I’d just spent a few years working on me; learning how to control my addictive, obsessive personality and successfully conquering some severe problems with drugs and alcohol. For years I’d found it easy to blame my problems on someone else, after all, my first husband left me after 15 years of marriage. I felt abandoned and clouded my reality with that “fog of addictions.” I’d successfully sent myself into my very own personal hell.

Fortunately, before it was too late, I began to understand the problems in my life were my responsibility. With the help of a few close friends and a book about yoga, I recovered from the loss of my first husband, the father of my children, and I reclaimed my life.

In reclaiming my life I regained my self-worth and was, once again, very proud of who I was and where I was going in life. I’d owned 2 very successful retail stores, I’d had 2 husbands and I’d built a house with each of them. I’d been a supervisor of a 5 diamond resort, I’d become skilled in fiberglass repairs and wood working, I’d done volunteer work for a few wonderful elderly ladies, been a caretaker of many beautiful properties and caregiver for a few disabled folks, some wonderfully inspirational, some frighteningly self-centered and down right mean.

I’d lived a wonderful, full life and was preparing to make a break from the rat race. I was confident in my actions. I was comfortable in my skin and with my decisions once again. It felt good. I was proud of where I was in my life but I knew I wanted more.

I had been practicing yoga and meditation diligently for over a year and I’d decided to leave the Florida Keys and dedicate my life to helping others and to advance myself, spiritually speaking.

I was carefully packing my essential belongings and I was on my way to an ashram in California. I called my mother to tell her of my plans and she promptly asked me, “When are you going to have time for a man?”

Bless her heart. At the time, she and my father had been happily married for 43 years and believed in partnering for life. Well, so did I until I found out it takes two people feeling that way to make it last forever.

I tried to explain to my mother I had decided I didn’t need a man in my life; I’d had enough relationships and enough disappointments. I wanted to do something different.

I remember her response and I quote her quite often. Her voice came ringing across the phone line, “If men and women weren’t meant to be together they wouldn’t fit so good.”

I laughed and told her I would come up and see her and Daddy in Maine before I headed to the west coast. It may be awhile until I returned.

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