i   am today so grateful for life.  I didn't have to be here.  I.ve done a lot to stay healthy and vibrant, but, I.ve also abused my health and neglected myself, being so focused on saving the world and others.  Thank God, you felt that I was worthy to continue while I was on a crash course to do otherwise. 

In this month of November, while so many are planning a big dinner for thanksgiving,, I instead celebrate tNovember as a month of "giving thanks". .  I actually attempt to practice daily "gratitude", which is not the easiest but it is so beneficial.,,so even when I have those "whoe is me moments", I somehow work through them by reminding myself to look at what is working and not what isn't.   All of the self-developmentgurus speak of "gratitude " as the one aspect of healthy living, healing and success, that we all should be practicing daily as well as moment to moment. 

Today, I start with feeling grateful for my eyes...Last week I was diagnosed with advanced glaucoma.  I wasn't surprised, as my Mom had dealt with this issue, and so far medics have said that this issue has a genetic pre-disposition.  I was adviced to get a quick operation.  Today, I.m. grateful to my husband John who pulled out the U-tube videos of natural remedies and I.ve already started some.  I ..m grateful to my spiritual brother Dr. Kokayi Patterson,,who is an excellent acupuncturist, who needled me up yesterday, and it immediately made a difference. And I.m thankful for the MMS (Multi-mineral solution) and how it oxides so quickly toxic waste (more on this product in my John and Ayo Healing Journey blog coming up)  Today, I.m. grateful for being able to be flexible, so I.me already trying new ideas for love these eyes more, so they will not be dry, drained or over-worked, so they can heal themselves.

Today, I give thanks to my father, Morrie I. Thomas, a World War II survivor, for his Veterans Day honor, and to my brother Melvin, and my former husband Damani, for their service too in Vietnam.  All were reluctant to serve, but they did, and when they came back home, they all struggled with post-traumatic stress and endured mental, emotional and substance abuse pain, chasing away the demons.  While my Dad seems to have already been damaged by his Dad, a World War I veterans, and his early abuse was most likely due to his father's behavior towards him,

, I.m. affirming that the cycle of abuse ends with me.  I abused myself, not my sons, and I have to thank my father, whose example I watched which made me really want to behave in a different way from him.   I remember being very careful to choose my words when I talked to my young ones, different from the abuse teasing, taunting and negative word choices of my Dad.  And when my sons grew older, although I did substances, I was extremely careful that I didin't do my harm to myself in front of them, unlike my Dad.  Today, I.m. grateful for the healing that I sought to find the root og my depressive behavior .  I.m. grateful that this search lead me to transformative breath techniques that helped me open up pathways into my sub-conscious  that then started me on a  self discovery journey   as a survivor of my Dad's sexual and emotional assaults..  today, I.m. grateful that this journey has helped me to grow, and help so many others.  I feel certain that I.m. the compassionate, healer today due to this aspect of my life,

Today, I give thanks for this same Dad, who did offer love to me, who did teach me about playing and humour; who did teach me how a man works to take care of his family; and how to hustle as an entrepreneur.  I learned about serving others as I watched him look after his people, as a number's runner, who would go all the way across town to pick up a number or pay someone who had won.  (In those days, we didn't have a state-run lottery, but we did have a under-ground, betting network where Black folk would place their bets  with the hope of winning big..  This was actually an entrepreneur hustle for my Dad as a numbers' runners who would get a commission, as he would pick up the bets and place them and then make the pay offs.  But, my Dad would go further then just place bets - he would take food and clothing to those in need.  He would also transport people who needed a ride for any reason.  There was a lot of kindness I saw in my father, that I will also never forget, so I could never "demonize" my Dad for the other "sicker" behavior that he showed me.  Today, because of this balance, I give thanks for Forgiveness because I I was able to understand that "hurt people hurt people" which today makes me less judgemental. about life, my clients and mainly my relationships.

Today, I want to thank my Native ancestry, which was so much apart of my appreciation of one of my spiritual teachers Antonio Carpenter.  Today, I thank him, as he has left the body and as he travels to his ancestral, heavenly homeland, I am so grateful of his work, in the science of spirituality and his introduction of my work as a breathologist to his spiritual community, very early on in my steps to share this powerful modality to the world.

And of course I have so many teachers, masters and guides to thank, and realize I am grateful to them all, but this other person, I just have to mention here and now.   I.m. am so grateful to Leonard Orr, another spiritual teacher, whose trainings he offered me, in breathwork which were so awesome and life-enhancing.  Leonard Orr left the body about 2 maybe 3 months ago,and I have been remiss in not speaking of his passing, so it's appropriate to do so in this article..  I am so grateful, for his trainings and the chance to have gotten to know him by staying at his ranch in Virginia  His concepts on immortality, and re-birthing breakwork will stay with me forever, and I affirm in all that I share with.  .  He was another remarkable man on a mission, another maverick who lived outside of the box, just like my Dad, and like Antonio.  He was another person who encouraged me to breathe through my pain; to train with the community and to serve humanity, using the "power of the breath.  He was another very special person, who recognized the "specialness in me". and pushed me to push it through, despite the pains it took to do such labor. 
  .  .

 
I am full now, feeling so much gratitude, but more is yet to come this month.

I affirm that I will go into the journey that John and I have been taking, in helping him to heal in 2018-2019, as the second part of this message "I am so grateful".  Stay tuned.

To me, it was no coincidence that in October, the month of Breast Cancer and Domestic Violence Awareness Month, that just before mid-night of Saturday, October 28, 2017, my mom, Doris A.M. Thomas, quietly slipped away to “go home” to her Maker. 
 
She had announced to me and the family, in early August of that year, that she was ready to move on because she was tired of living and had done everything that she ever wanted to do.  I knew she had a serious determination, what she called her motto, “the will to live”, and I had seen this “will” many times in my life-time, so I tried to challenge her to stay.   She was the rock that was stead-fast for her marriage, her family, her community, her church, her jobs, then her business she started at age 65, and her group, the Cameo Club as the founder.  She went to her Ms. Senior D.C. Pagent in August, and listened as she was described as the oldest of the Ms. Senior D.C. queens,  crowned in 1972, but she told me after the great program that honored her, “that this would be her last pageant.  She said quite calmly with resolve, “I/ve survived cancer twice, survived the death of my husband’s brain cancer, the untimely deaths of both my sons and grandson, and a whole lot of confusion, abuse, and yes, good times too, for 53 years of marriage to your Dad – I.m. tired”.    It would be many days of concern as we saw our Mom turn from a healthy senior with no serious health issues, to a shadow of herself, as she literally willed herself to die.  She actually begged God to take her home.  And, she was so ready....had written all of her obituary, her plans, had paid for most of her expenses, and helped my two sisters plan her "great home-going EVENT" we called it.  She was 92 at her passing, and her contributions in making a better world, was a glowing  testament of a life worth-lived. 
 
One of her biggest contributions was her involvement as a volunteer with the American Cancer Society and October was “a very important” time for her.  My Mom,  became afflicted with breast cancer, in 1968, the year before I graduated from high school and I became part of her “care-taking team.”.  My Dad found her lump, he often bragged, and despite it being a small tumor, it resulted  in surgical removal of her left breast (radical mastectomy) and all of the lymph nodes under her armpit.  .  After undergoing 45 radiation and chemotherapy treatments, my Mom realized her deep desire to help other women who faced the same challenges.  She joined the “Reach To Recovery Program” of the American Cancer Society, visiting in hospitals and homes of countless, women, supporting , praying and motivating them right after their breast cancer surgeries.  Eventually she became a spokesperson, featured on radio, television, and in public advertisements on behalf of the Society, encouraging women that “there is life after cancer”.  For her consistent volunteerism, she was awarded the American Cancer Society’s most prestigious recognition, The Bartlett Award, named for one of their pioneers. 
 
Although 7 years after her breast removal, she developed cancer in her hips, and again managed radiation but also incorporated a new paradigm shift in her personal treatment.  She said that I had motivated her to use more natural approaches and vegetarianism, so she stopped smoking,  did lots of stretching and dance movements,  attended a yoga class, and later acclaimed that she had survived cancer for over 49 years by living a wholistic life-style of increased breathing, relaxation, moving, and limited medicines!
While, I was drawn to a wholistic lifestyle as early as 1970, due in part to my Mom’s health , I remember as a young child destined to pursue this lifestyle.  I was pushed into eating meat, very sensitive to the fate of animals being killed for us to eat them.  I remember being terrified, watching a restaurant cook boil some crabs, while they were alive, and feeling their pain.  I was really into nature, plants, talked to trees, and dis-liked violence of all kinds despite my being a tom-girl who loved to physically, tackle down my older brothers on the football field.  Quite an introvert, shy, a reader, a writer of poetry, observant, and super sensitive, I felt the inter-relationships of everything, especially people and their emotions.  So, I grew into adolescence, care-taking my Mom, and in some ways my Dad, who I began to notice that he would drink something that made his behavior change, and next he would be asleep at the dinner table.  I would wake him up and help him into bed.  Then, I was given the responsibility of helping my younger sisters, 12 and 10 years younger than myself.
 So, I grew into adolescence, care-taking my Mom, and in some ways my Dad.  I was “wired” to be a helper and by age 15, I declared I wanted to be a social worker.
From this framework as a helper and a care-taker, I wanted to know how my calm, always in control, underweight, Mom, attracted cancer in the first place, why did it come back and what made this imbalance stop.
 I questioned the tension that I felt in my family, despite moments of love and laughter, and I really noticed tension in my body and holding my breath, whenever I was around my Dad.   My Dad, during those periods when he seemed “different”, would go from being a joking, person to a person who would tease me, saying unkind things about my crooked teeth comparing me to “Mickey Mouse”.  He made negative statements about my curly, frizzy hair, my dark-brown skin color, and as I grew breast, about my body.  He was nice/nasty, and you never knew what to expect from him.
I clung often to my Mom, who would tell him leave me alone, but then he would turn on her with unkind words.  .      I believe, because my Mom had so much grace about her, with a quiet presence, she could quietly and firmly put you in place, which is often how I remember, she handled my Dad during some of his rants.  You seldom heard her raise her voice, nor even show anger.  One day, I saw him standing over her on the stairs to their bedroom, screaming nasty, and she actually took her cigarette out of her mouth, and without a word, put it to him arm and burned him.  This truly backed him off.
 
When I look back at my Mom, her manner of dealing with my Dad, must have created a strained peace that went on for years, and that this internalized stress, eventually became the serious illness of cancer, that my Mom survived, ironically, with the help of my Dad.
 
As I matured, I decided to run away from home, to get away from my Dad, who by then, had become more verbally abusive and sexual in his language towards me and my girl friends.  I was 19, and ran to Okinawa to marry my high school sweetheart who also joined the Air Force to get out of his home environment.  I did pursue my dream of working with people, and went to college to become a human services professional, but saw that I was re-creating the relationship I had grown up with, watching my Dad and Mom.  As drugs and drinking became the “third party” in our relationship, I too had a health scare, as my breast thickened, and test showed that I too was at risk for breast cancer.  I was truly into wholistic health, and at the same time, was incongruent with self-abusive behavior with drugs and alcohol, I went to my Mom to probe deeper into her early childhood, in order to discover how the seeds of her emotions had played into journey with cancer, to better understand my body. 
 
She shared that while born and raised in Washington, D.C., her grandparents had struggled to leave the South, Rocky Mountain, N.C. so her Mom dealt with serious poverty during the “Great Depression” of the ‘30’s.  She had one brother, who was 8 years older than her.  Because her Dad, left his wife, son and my Mom when she was only a year old, her brother ended up serving as her father figure.  I believe, he must have been a good guy, as my Mom did gain a positive perspective about men and parenting from him.  Years later, her Dad came back to the family, just as mysteriously as he left.  At the end of the week of his return, he passed out while walking with my Mom, and died that evening.  Mommy shared with me, that she did forgive her Dad after he died, for abandoning her Mom and she often spoke about how forgiveness had taught her one of her most valuable lessons in her life, yet she also talked about resentment that she did not know her father.
On February 14, 1943, Doris became the wife of Morrie Ignatius Thomas, Jr., my Dad.  He was a neighborhood, determined young man, who saw my Mom walking down the street and went home to his mother, and told her, that he had met his future wife.  Mom shared that he pursued her assertively, with a determined, "you are the one" attitude.  They married on Valentine’s Day, after a whirlwind 3 months courtship and they remained together for over 53-years, until his death.  From their union, five children were born and two did not come to term.  I was the 3rd born of this family.
 
World War II interrupted their new marriage, and when my Dad returned from his post in Europe, my Mom had, like her Mom, served as Mom and Dad to their first born, who was 3 years old by the time our Dad came back stateside.  Dad returned home an alcoholic, traumatized from the death, destruction and racism he faced in the war.  
 
Doris and Morrie were uniquely different, yet, they worked together despite their differences and many challenges,  providing a loving, fun, creative and always exciting family life.  So while my Dad, reminded me of "Papa was a Rolling Stone", who worked diligently at his government job for over 30 years, he partied just as hard.   My Mom always reminded me of the song, "I'm Every Woman" because she was so vibrantly interested in so many things and pursuits.  Since their interests were so at conflict, my Dad had the good sense to NOT curtail his Doris, who was not to be contained, like women often were at that time in the 30's- 50's. 

Dad would be coming home from the after-hours club, while Mom would be heading out to church.  She started out at a Baptist church, but left in turmoil and became a member of her catholic church in Southeast, D.C, the working class side of the city.   For  50-years, she served as a member of the solidarity and the choir.  She loved her church home, but also would attend other spiritual and religious services always willing to seek “God” in many mansions.  I loved that she went to a Buddhist Temple, a Mosque and services at the Nation of Islam, with me, as my spirituality expanded.  My father, would only pray when encouraged over a meal, and never went to any religious services.
More often than not, my Mom went her way and my Dad his, but we saw more of their unified actions as they worked through their many ups and downs, including her serious health challenge, than his as he also succumbed to brain cancer, HBP, obesity, gout and alcoholism.  She weathered his extra-marital affairs and seemed not surprised when a 13 year-old, showed up at his funeral stating she was his daughter.

Seems my Dad had been abused as a child by his parents, and hurt people tend to hurt people, so my Mom, eventually put up with a lot of abuse from him, quietly, to keep our family together. 

After this deep conversation, I took myself into therapy to gain greater insight into why was I so unhappy in my home, with a man, similar to my Dad -- a good man, who was also verbally abusive, distant, and unconnected in our relationship, both of us dependent on drugs.  I was also having some serious issues with allowing myself to be sexual with my husband, despite having 2 sons.  The therapist asked me did I think that I had been raped or sexually abused as a child, to which I emphatically said “no”.  However, he helped me face myself to deal with depression, as my mental health issue that I attempted to manage, using substances.  After 9 years, I left this marriage.  Changing my mind-set, my habits, and the suppressed anger that I felt from emotional abuse, I believe helped stop  the thickening walls in my breast and I did not incur cancer.

But, I continued to attract other relationships, very much like the pattern I saw in my Mom and Dad and each time, I would attract a major illness.  My gall bladder enlarged, almost burst and had to be removed with relationship No.2 that lasted close to 8 years; then a small tumor was found in my breast, with my 3rd relationship,  to a man, I married from another state, not knowing him well and whose troubled past haunted our lives for over 6 years during the “crack-cocaine” epidemic in the District and in the Nation.

By now, I.m really into wholistic health, and have gained several certificates in various forms of “breathwork”.  I realize now the correlation between emotions and health, so I do a deep dive into breathing, meditation, watch my anger, and worked with my diet.  The tumor goes away, once I address how traumatized I feel chasing this man down, in “crack houses”, and being physically and verbally abused in the streets of my home-town.  Then, my son Rashid is killed at age 17 (another story), and 2 years later, my Dad lay dying with brain cancer. 

I.m. depressed, angry beyond rage, and can barely breathe.  The walls of my breast begin to thicken again, and I.m. told that I should consider some type of invasive treatment for the issue.  Instead, I take a course in a different, breathing method, called conscious –connected breathing, and get certified as a Transformational Facilitator.  This training uncovered all of the stuck, suppressed and subconscious memory of trauma stored within in.  After 3 sessions, in which I kicked, screamed and fought off something, the 4th session revealed that I had been fighting off my Dad. 

 I reclaimed the image of him coming into my bedroom after his evening work shift to touch my breasts, fondle me with hugs and kisses and put me on his private area and push me up and down.  The trauma of this behavior, for an 8 year old, who silently dealt with these sexual acts, until I was almost age 13 was too much for my young mind to handle, so my mind blocked them out on the conscious level.  Yet, they laid frozen in my neural pathways, showing up as numbness, anger, guilt and shame turned upon myself which lead to depression, thereby, I coped with, by drinking and drugging. 

 This discovery, was life-changing for me, as I felt liberated and restored from years of held trauma, and I made a commitment to myself to keep up my own personal sessions.  Thank God I discovered, conscious connected breathing, along with cathartic movements, release work, journaling and disconnecting from the negative energies around me, as this work sustained me to cope effectively with a succession of deaths, starting with my own son, then my first husband now one of my best friends, his mom, my mother-in-law; his dad, my father-in-law; then the eviction from their house and eventual homelessness twice; the incarceration of my second son; and the death of my father – all within a 6 years span.   I would later have to breathe through the untimely deaths of both my brothers and the divorce from my 2nd husband.   By then, I was working and breathing with hundreds of thousands around the world on radio, t.v., in print and in private practice, using my own system of breath techniques that included conscious –connected breathing. 

I.ve been addiction free also for over 20 years and in this time, have weathered the ups and downs of my 3rd marriage, 4th serious relationship, with my husband John.  And I.ve had no more breast concerns and no major health issues.

I have also been able to forgive my Dad, who I don’t demonize, but had to be truthful to myself and to my community, that his emotional pain caused serious damage to me, and my family, as I since found out, that he also inappropriately touched and  made sexual advances to other members of our family and to some of my friends. 

In the last years of my Mom’s life, I shared that I had been verbally, mentally and sexually abused by my Dad, her husband, just so I could be truthful to her during a family gathering, as the issue of sexual and domestic violence was raised as the root concern of her breast cancer, my scares with breast cancer and could be affecting their health concerns.  As I shared this truth, my Mom’s eyes teared up, as she admitted that she often suspected that her husband had done “terrible things” to me, and to others and she often questioned had she done enough to protect us, as she realized that 4 of her 5 children had had difficulties with some sort of self-abuse, along with relationship dysfunctions. 

She apologized for not doing all that she could, and described that in those days, within African American communities, there were many “hidden secrets” of sexual abuse; emotional, physical and mental acts of domestic violence; as well as all levels of child molestation.    My Mom thanked me for going public with this issue and encouraged me to continue, even if it meant exposing our Dad’s reputation. 

In her name, I continue to share my story and hers, so that the truth may set us all free, not only during the October month of Breast Cancer and Domestic Violence Awareness month, but as often as I.m. able to speak up for survivors, the voiceless and those who are seeking remedies for the emotional link to their health concerns.   Thank you Mom, for giving me permission to share freely, as we are still saving lives. 
 This link I thought on this same subject of the emotional link to breast cancer, I found very helpful, and felt that it should be shared.

http://www.naturalhealthjourneys.org/2018/02/24/breast-cancer-emotional-health/

PART I:  WHEN JOHN MET AYO.

I.m. not sure when we met or where we met, but, seems like John and I were a natural fit.  John Davies 3 and me, Ayo Handy-Kendi, married in 2003 but we had been together since 1999.  John is my 4th husband and I am is 2nd wife.  We  had a lot in common - both native Washingtonians, only 4 months apart in age, who grew up in D.C. when it was truly "chocolate city".. John went to  the high school in N.W that was the rival to my high school in S.E., and our backgrounds were similar - we both grew up in 2 parent households, in which there was an entrepreneur parent present, and in both households, our parents really believed in spirituality, education and human rights for all, especially, Black people. 

We  both married quite early, right out of high school and at the time, I met John, we were  married to someone else.. I remember seeing John at the "Community Warehouse", the local, hang-out, where you could get wholesome soup; your bulk  organic vegetables, spices, herbs and other types of "herbs".  At the "Warehouse", a tight-knit community bonded around the anti-war, civil rights music and slogans of the times, and this would be the foundation of D.C.'s "cultural community".  

John was the tall, quiet, kinda "geeky" guy, who always looked stoned, rocking as he talked, with eyes filled with mischief like a "big boy" up to something.playful.  I remembered I liked that he laughed easily.  However, because he was so quiet and unassuming,  I really paid little attention to this "really  nice guy" and didn't connect..  But, I would continue to see him for the next several years, always in a position of helping me accomplish something, like a guardian Angel appearing just in time, when I needed him.  .Then one day, a good girl-friend suggested that the guy she was dating was too "spiritual" for her, but would be just right for me".  She described him, but I could think of no one who met her description.  She said that she would introduce us and that his name was "John".

At that time, I was going through a horrible, abusive, tormenting marriage to husband #3.  This brother's trauma was being played out in domestic violence and anger toward me, as we struggled for 6 years with his raging crack-cocaine addiction, and unwillingness to face his childhood abuse. After being dragged in the streets, and chocked,  I could take it no longer.  (This story is in my Black Love Book, too painful to repeat here).  I bought that man a one-way ticket back to his home-state in Florida and sent him back to "face his demons". 

Shortly after he left D.C., on a super bright day, I went to my local health food store, and there was this guy, that I seemed like I keep running into just when i needed support.  He asked me why was I "beaming" and I said, "because I just sent my mad husband away, and I.m. about to get a divorce".  John smiled at me and said, "great, I.ve been looking at you for years"........We went out on our first natural date that week.....to a movie..  That was in 1999 and we've been going to movies, and health food stores, ever since.  It turned out that this man, was the very man that my friend had mentioned to me.  John and I became one.
(To BE Continued).