Alice…Who the Fuck is Alice?

The day I met Alice, I was 66 years old, having recently moved to a small town somewhere north of Minneapolis, Minnesota, with my soulmate of 39 years, my 76-year-old husband.

We moved from a large home in a rural suburb 15 minutes south of the small town where we now live in a 1-level townhome. We had enjoyed living there for 15 years on 4 acres which we had totally updated, with walkout doors from our bedroom into a screen porch where we spent many hours talking and watching the ducks on the pond in our back yard. But between his age, my back and the stairs in our split-level home, we could no longer take care of it. We chose well and our new home still has a patio and woods, where we can enjoy watching the squirrels, rabbits, birds and the neighbor’s dog chasing after them until he reaches the end of his rope, so to speak.

I was suffering from a severely herniated disk, having had 2 previous surgeries and needed a spine fusion. I had chronic sciatica pain in both legs, for the last year and a half, as we moved and settled into our new home. I jumped through all the insurance hoops to get my back fixed. Man, don't even get me started on what I think about that process.  I’ll get all crazy and you’ll get bored and quit reading.

In August my husband started a debilitating radiation and chemo treatment  for his 2nd bout of laryngeal cancer.  He lost 40 pounds and was extremely sick, requiring total personal care.  As he recovered, by January it became very obvious that he was seemingly experiencing a sudden onset of dementia "as evident by his inability to recover, losing his ability to remember, process emotions, events, and complex conversations." My oncologist agreed that his treatment had probably accelerated dementia. It was, finally, four days before my spine fusion surgery and the upcoming hospital stay.It was time to get my toes and nails done before surgery. Alice was getting her pedicure when I walked in. I picked out my color and sat in the chair next to her. Because I just chat with anybody around me, I chatted with her a bit about books, motorcycles, etc.  She then moved to the manicure desk next to my pedicure chair and we chatted some.  When I finished my pedicure, I got out of the pedicure chair very slowly and painfully and reached for my walker, which sat between our chairs.  As she turned her head to see what was going on, I met her eyes and said to her, "This is what happens when bikers get old."  I don't recall exactly what she said, but I think I then said something to the effect "But wait until I get my back fixed and I'll be throwing away this walker and back on my bike next summer, just watch me go." Probably saying in the back of my mind, "Think you can keep up?"  

We were the only two in the salon and started talking while she was finishing her manicure, and I was starting mine.  Alice talked about the non-profit she was working on to help people grow and heal from their trauma of physical, sexual, or emotional abuse. When she was finished with her manicure, she scooted her chair over to me and we continued to talk.  She also mentioned she was working on a motorcycle ride throughout the 50 states to garner national attention for her mission of carrying her healing message, to meet with the abused and abusers, and her plans to build a self-sustaining greenhouse, and provide halfway houses and services for healing.  

I was very excited about what she was trying to do.  I told her that I would love to ride with her, in fact, I told her I had experience planning motorcycle rides and could really help her out. Oops. I literally felt some reticence from her about inviting myself into her world, and particularly the motorcycle ride.  So, I backed off a bit about that as we continued to chat.  

Because we were chatting, my attention was not on my manicure.  The nail tech thought that was a good thing and told me Alice needed to come with me in the future.  I laughed and said, for sure.  We had already established that I was a difficult client, because when I’m just sitting there watching the manicure, I can’t sit still, and my hands aren’t very cooperative.  

Alice and I exchanged phone numbers, and she said she would come by and visit after my surgery.  I really hoped she would, because I really enjoyed chatting with her and wanted to get to know her better and get involved in the damn bike ride, whether she wanted me to or not.  I was sure I would be able to convince her of my worth and why she needed me for the ride. About a month later, she called to come over to visit. She did.  It was more of the same type of connection as we talked, and I urged her to come back when she could.  She did.  We visited, shared our stories and laughed and cried together over the next several months. She became a pivotal support resource for me as I walked through those months of recovery and my husband’s illness.

I had been spending considerable time musing over my life and spirituality in the last few years as I struggled to deal with the stage of life I had arrived at.  Taking care of my husband during and after his cancer treatment and dealing with the enormous amount of pain I was constantly in and going through my dad’s death a few months earlier set the stage for a lot of time for reflection.  I had signed up for medical marijuana to deal with the pain without resorting to narcotics.  I suspect that it also worked in my favor for reflecting, as I would think and reflect a lot while somewhat stoned from numbing the pain.

Talking and sharing with Alice was the catalyst for more spiritual growth for me and although it has been rough, painful at times, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying that journey as I move into the next chapter in my life.  So I  jumped on the train with Alice in her goals to help abusers and abused heal, because our souls connected and I see a way to bring about the two most precious goals I've carried with me since I was 25.

1: To take a year plus however long it takes to ride my motorcycle around the entire country and not come back until I wanna.

2: Help other people that have experienced physical, sexual or emotional traumas to walk, or run, from the abuse, heal, grow, and become strong, independent people that can truly enjoy their lives and achieve their goals in life.

My mission is to share with others who have experienced physical, sexual or emotional abuse that we are not victims.  We were abused by someone we trusted. But we can learn how to love ourselves, heal and move on to a place where we don’t lose ourselves in our desire to be loved or accepted and become a person that cannot be abused in any way. It’s a tough ongoing journey for life, as I’m here to tell you. But we don’t do it alone.  There’s been therapists, doctors, Alcoholics Anonymous, sponsors, sponsees, speakers, lovers, friends, even a fleeting conversation with a stranger, that I have connected with each step of the way. They helped me find my path as I healed and grew spiritually such as:  to stop drowning in alcohol; find a higher power that makes sense to me; stay sober one day at a time; Men will “pat” you on the ass but the Women will save your ass (at that time I didn’t have much use for women friends, I liked the men); that I always have a choice as to what I will be a part of; to take accountability for my choices and actions; start learning how to set boundaries and not compromise my values in whatever I do; and go kick-ass on whatever it is I choose to do.  

Yet, it is still truly amazing to me, that one more seemingly casual connection in my life became a deep friendship just in time…right before I started walking through a year and a half of the most downright tortuous events of my 66 years.

ALICE. WHO THE FUCK IS ALICE?

She’s as close as my heart ❤️

She’s an inspiration

She’s authentic

She’s instinctively there for me when I need her comfort and wisdom

She calls me on my bullshit and kicks my ass in gear every once in awhile 🤭

She’s come to trust me as I trust her

She’s a true joy to be with

She’s the daughter I never had

I love her and I’m so proud to be her friend

With love,

Chick