Lori R. Hodges's Blog

Question of the day: Do you believe that hope is good or do you believe it is evil?

Excerpt from Shaking in the Forest: Finding Light in the Darkness

Whenever I think about hope, I cannot help but remember the story of Pandora’s Box. For those who don’t know the story, Zeus had a daughter named Pandora, and she was sent to Earth as the first woman. After a Titan named Prometheus stole fire from heaven and gave it to humans, Zeus took revenge on humankind by giving Pandora a box with the warning not to open it, knowing full well she would. She was very curious, so one day, she stole the key from her husband and opened the box. Out flew ghostly forms, all the evils known to man, and they spread throughout the earth. As soon as Pandora realized what she had done, she quickly closed the box. The whole contents had escaped, except for one thing. At the very bottom of the box was the spirit of Hope.

The question that has plagued many is why hope was in a box full of evil. Is hope good, or is it bad? Some believe that hope is evil because it leads to disillusionment. Some believe that Zeus put hope into the box to keep humans going so that they would suffer longer and more terribly. With hope, people continue to go on through horrible circumstances. Therefore many believe that hope is the worst of all evils.

Others believe that hope being trapped at the bottom of the box expresses the belief that if you hold onto hope, all will never be lost. People believe that hope is good, and it allows people to overcome evil.

If you look at science, it shows that hope and optimism can mitigate torment. People who are optimistic tend to live happier and healthier lives. On the other hand, the effects of hope and optimism can depend on the specific contents of the hopeful belief. If you hope for things that cannot possibly happen, then you are dooming yourself to unanswered dreams and disillusionment.

When trying to determine my beliefs about whether hope is good or evil, I turn to two books as examples. The first is the book, Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, which is the true story of Louis Zamperini. The part of the story that hit me the most was when he and ten of his crew crashed their plane into the sea during WWII. Only three survived the crash and had to live on a lifeboat for over forty-seven days. Two of the crew, including Zamperini, continued to believe that they would be rescued and did whatever possible to survive. The third crew member was in despair from the beginning of their ordeal and continually talked about how they would never survive, and all hope was lost. Out of the three crew members, this man was the only one to die. Zamperini and his other crew member that held onto hope survived. This same moral has been seen again and again in true stories of survival and resilience.

The other book is Gone with the Wind, written by Margaret Mitchell. My old roommate, Julian, read this book and was just horrified at how awful Scarlett O’Hara was to everyone around her. She was selfish, materialistic, and egotistical. But what he didn’t see was that it was Scarlett who got everyone through the war and into recovery. If it weren’t for her strength, determination, and, yes, hope, the entire family would have perished. Margaret Mitchell was interviewed once and asked what made her write this novel. She said she wanted to tell the story of the differences between those who are survivors and those who are victims. Some just lie down and give up when faced with terrible events. But others, like Scarlett, continue to pick themselves up, brush themselves off, and move forward. Scarlett was a survivor, just like Louis Zamperini, and both had the one thing considered by some to be an evil in the world—they had hope.

Are you one of those who believes hope is among the world’s worst evils, or do you remain optimistic about the future and believe hope will get you through? For me, I tend to be a glass is half full kind of girl, so I must believe that when Pandora opened the box and only hope was left behind, it signaled that if we hold onto hope, we will make it through whatever may come our way.

It was Memorial Day weekend twelve years ago that my mom called me to pass along the news of my father's death. He was sixty-six years old.

For a long time, I did not really mourn my father's death. And even to this day, when I think about it, I do not mourn him. Over time, however, I have come to mourn the loss of a life he never really got to live. When my father was 16 years old, he lost both of his parents. First, his father died of a heart attack, and one year later his mother died from alcoholism. I cannot imagine how those events shaped my father's young life, and I often wonder how much different his life may have been if one or both of his parents had lived.

Instead, my father sought out excess - excess money, excess status, excess everything. And from that want or need, he also stumbled down the path that so many in our family before him have stumbled - he stumbled into alcoholism and drug addiction. Enough was never enough and as I grew, so did his addiction.

I hadn't spoken to my father for over three years by the time he died, and I had expected the call about his death many times over the years. After the call from my mom, I didn't weep or mourn the loss of my father. In my mind, he had left me many years earlier. I believe that addiction follows you life after life until you are able to resolve the problems that cause the addiction in the first place. So, when my father died, what I was most sad about was the thought that he would have to go into his next life and face addiction once more. Perhaps he will have more tools in his arsenal to fight the addiction next time, and perhaps he will finally free himself from the chains that bind him. I hope that is the case and that he will find whatever it is he seeks.

This Memorial Day, I remember my father. I remember the good, the bad, and the ugly. He wasn't a perfect man by any means and we definitely had our moments. But I hope he finds peace and maybe we will meet again in another life under better circumstances.

Shaking in the Forest: Finding Light in the DarknessPre-Orders of my new book, Shaking in the Forest, are now available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. The book will be available at more stores throughout the next week.

I am excited that it is finally out there to the world. I've worked on this book for years and I am just so happy to have the final product complete. I hope that you all enjoy it.

I am delighted to let you know that the new cover for my book has been chosen. The publisher I am working with provided four design options for the cover. I was able to narrow it down to two options and those went online at the Koehler Publishing website for voting.

Thank you to the 372 people who took some time to vote on the two options.

You can find the new cover here:
https://lorihodges.com/blog/f/cover-d...

Overwhelmingly, this cover had the most votes and will be the new cover to Shaking in the Forest: Finding Light in the Darkness. Out of the four options I was given, this cover design was my favorite from the beginning so I am beyond happy to finally be able to share it with the world.

My dog, Crash, had surgery this week. He had a total hip replacement for severe hip dysplasia. The recovery from this surgery is extensive. He is only allowed outside of his crate 3-4 times a day for about five minutes at a time to relieve himself outside. He is not allowed to go up stairs and he has to wear a cone so that he doesn't lick his incision site. I feel that my dog was listening at the vet's office when I received these instructions and he decided to make it a personal challenge to do everything he is not supposed to do.
He had surgery on Tuesday, stayed overnight, and I brought him home Wednesday. I was told he'd be pretty drugged up for the first few weeks and would sleep most of the time.

LIARS!

Wednesday went pretty well, lots to do to get ready for our routine. I set Crash up in a puppy playpen which is like a tent crate. I thought this would work for the first week or so while Crash's energy is lower. He seemed to settle nicely.

On Thursday, I started off optimistic - ready to face the day. I left Crash in his dog playpen and went to walk my other dog, Storm. We were gone maybe 45 minutes. When I returned, Crash had broken out of his dog playpen, knocked it over onto its side, and he had pooped all over the house - upstairs, downstairs, all around. And he stepped in it along the way so there were puppy poopy dog prints leaving a trail of his mass frenzy throughout the house. Yes, he went up and down the stairs. Yes, he jumped up on the couch. Yes, he walked more than five minutes. Check, check, check.

On Friday, I started over. I cleaned up the mess the night before and pulled out the more durable Kong dog crate. If he is able to escape that thing then I might as well give up. I also purchased some sausage, cooked it up, and put his many pills inside - solving another stubborn problem of him not taking his medicine. Friday and Saturday went well comparatively. He wants to chase rabbits when we go outside and will not go to the bathroom causing me great frustration. But overall, it was better. I'll take the win.

Now I know he was just gearing up for today, when he would harness all of his energy to push me straight over the edge.

Throughout the morning, Crash would sit, stare, and whine at me - all the time. When we go out, he wants to run and chase the rabbits. What he does not want to do is go to the bathroom. I left him alone again for about an hour to walk Storm and in that time he found a way around his dog cone on his head and pulled out a bunch of his stitches. The wound isn't open but the stitches are gone. SO I had to load him in my car (couldn't leave him alone again) and drive to Petsmart to get a new cone. When we got home, I lifted him out of the car and he bolted through the dog door, down a flight of steps, and into the backyard. I caught him and walked him into the house only for him to squirm out of my grasp and run upstairs to my bedroom. Meanwhile Storm is super excited to have his friend back so I have to fight to get ahold of Crash, keep him from injuring himself further, and muscle him back into the crate.

Stubborn Ass.

Did I mention that I need to continue doing this for another six weeks?

When I was a young child, my mother and I were driving home late at night on dirt country roads. I remember the night being especially dark. While traveling on a back road, my mother suddenly slammed on the brakes. Looking out the front window, I couldn't see anything that was in our way, anything that could harm us, but as I turned my head to the right to ask my mom what was wrong, I saw out the driver's side window the underside of a vehicle not two feet from my mom/s window. This was the first time I had come upon an accident in my short life and it terrified me.
My mom quickly took off her seatbelt, looked at me and said, "I'll be right back. Stay in the car."

I remember grabbing her arm and asking her not to go. For some reason, the sight of the undercarriage of the vehicle next to us made me incredibly scared. I thought my mom wouldn't come back.

She looked at me and said, "There are people in that vehicle who may need help," and then left the car to see what happened.

I am not certain if this is the only reason I chose a career as a helper, but I do think that this particular night stuck with me for a reason. I could go out there and help others or I could stay quite and afraid.

Later, when I was an EMT working at Keystone Ski Resort, I decided to go to paramedic school. This had been my goal since attending my first EMT class and I was so excited to begin. Rick, my boss at the time, couldn't understand why I wanted to take that next step from EMT to paramedic. One day, he asked me why I wanted to go to paramedic school. He said, "You are going to have so much more responsibility, doesn't that stress you out?" In his mind, being an EMT was easier because you didn't have all the extra pressure of being the one in charge on a scene.
My fear, was actually the opposite. As an EMT, I had some knowledge, but what if I was in a position where someone needed my help and I couldn't help them because I never learned how? What if I allowed my fear to hold me back? I told him that I would much rather have the skills to help when needed than not be in a position to help when needed.

The stress of knowing someone is in harm's way without the ability to assist was more stressful to me than anything else. And every time I felt a bit of pressure or fear, I would recall my mom running out to help a total stranger on a dark back road without hesitation. I didn't want to be the child hiding in fear in the car, wondering what bad thing is going to happen. I wanted to be the person running to help just in case someone needs a hand.

Ever since the age of twelve, I have kept a journal. At the time it was mostly filled with boy crazy nonsense but over time it became a way for me to express all the things I either couldn't or wouldn't express to friends and family. I have lived alone for the majority of my adult life, I've been single, and I have few close friends, so instead of coming home at the end of the day and discussing life with a significant other, I wrote in a journal as if speaking to a friend. And unlike many who journal, I have always written as if someone else will one day read the entries. No psychotic ranting about a co-worker, or elicit details about a date that I would be embarrassed for others to read. Mainly, I have written to contemplate, philosophize, ruminate, and try to solve problems. I have also written about big events in the world and the reactions of those events. As I said, I have always written as if the journals would one day be found, hundreds of years from now, and the information would let the reader know about the world right now and about my specific life.

Now, I am well aware that there is the very real possibility that nothing I write will be read by anyone. I mean this blog has seven followers (hello! Thank you for being here!), but that has never been a deterrent to writing - anything and everything. I once picked up an old notebook I kept in my nightstand, flipped to a random page, and read, "I was a stone cold killer. I killed my brother." This was the first time I thought that maybe it would be a good idea to let the reader know that I was describing a dream. I was not, in fact, a killer (not that my big brother hasn't tested my last nerve on many occasions).

In my 20s, I created my first ever bucket list and on it I listed that I wanted to publish a novel. So I just started writing random stories. At the time I was doing a lot of work on our family genealogy so I decided to use my ancestors timeline and create a fictional story of their lives. It was never a goal to have the book read by anyone - just that I would finish the story and I would publish it. I worked on it for years while working as a paramedic but it wasn't until over 15 years later that I finally decided to get the book published and mark that item off my bucket list. Sweet Twisted Pine was my first book and it was also an award finalist for western fiction so I surpassed my original goal. But the greatest joy I got from that book was when I saw it one day on the shelves of our local library while browsing the aisles.

In the time between writing that book and getting it published, I realized how much I enjoy writing. Now, I have all kinds of ideas in my head of possible stories, novels, memoirs, emergency management books, etc.

People sometimes ask how you start as a writer and I tell them that you just start writing - random notes, ideas, dreams, hopes for the future, frustrations. And once you begin you just let your mind take you away. Amazing stories emerge from just letting go and not worrying about whether your work is good or if it makes any sense on paper, or if anyone will ever read it. First drafts are always messy. It is in the process that the story becomes clear and I truly believe that everyone has a story to tell.

So get writing people (or in my case my seven followers)! Who knows what will emerge once you get started.

You have two people.

Both grew up with childhood trauma that caused them to have trauma responses that are similar. Both tend to self-isolate as a means of safety, maybe even hiding from what the world may offer. Both constantly think that the bottom will fall out of any situation. They think the worst automatically and must respond to it. Finally, both are in a situation where they do not have many support systems – no family to depend upon and no external resources. They each must make it on their own. Interestingly, although these two people have all of this in common, they end up dealing with the trauma in completely different ways.

For several years, I have been taking in youth who do not have the resources or a place to stay. It is a temporary arrangement, often for six months to a year, allowing them to get a job, save some money, and get out on their own. The youth currently staying with me is one of the people I am talking about in this post. She has obviously had a difficult childhood and has developed some trauma responses that are pretty debilitating. She automatically thinks the worst in every conversation. I cannot even send her a text with a question or ask her a question face-to-face without her thinking there is some nefarious reason I am asking. I asked her once how school was going and she took the question to mean I wanted her to leave my home. What? She also hides away here at the house afraid to venture out into the world. I told her that a condition for staying here was to get a job – any job. So she got a job, told me about it, then promptly quit. How do I know this? Because she never leaves the house. She never leaves her room in the house. I know it is fear that keeps her from working, I know it is fear that caused her to start school only to quit less than a month later. I know that it is fear that keeps her in her room 24 hours a day. The most frustrating thing, however, is that she won't do anything to improve her situation. She won't go to therapy, she won't talk to anyone, and she won't seek out help in any other way. She lacks motivation to improve her situation so she remains stuck in time not moving forward or backward.

The other person in this scenario is me. I also ended up with fears from childhood trauma. I also tend to think the bottom will fall out. I also self-isolate when I am stressed and would rather spend time alone. But where we differ is in our response to these things. I chose a different path. I became hyper-independent and did everything possible to ensure I would never have to depend upon anyone to help me through. In order to be successful, I got out on my own as soon as possible. I worked three jobs to support myself while I went to school. This was all in an effort to ensure I could make it on my own and never need anyone’s assistance. I became a master planner, always planning for the bottom to drop out but also planning for how I would get through it once that happened. These things led me directly into my chosen field where I literally plan for bad things every day. I also was motivated to improve so I didn't need any assistance. I became a good researcher and sought out answers to my questions.

Both are responses to trauma and both seek the same end goal. But the reactions are drastically different. You would think someone like me would be able to help this youth since we have the same trauma responses, but our methods are so vastly different that I feel ill-prepared to help. And worse, she wouldn’t accept my help if I offered.

Is it possible to help someone so debilitated with fear if they won't take the steps to help themselves?

Excerpt from my upcoming book: Shaking in the Forest

First Do No Harm

On a cold winter night, while still a rookie EMT, my partner and I were called to an automobile accident in the river near Breckenridge. My adrenaline skyrocketed, amped at the thought of saving someone from the frigid river. When my paramedic partner and I arrived on scene, we were told that the driver and passengers had been taken to a nearby home for warmth. We quickly drove to the house and parked in the driveway. My partner, a senior paramedic, told me to grab the medical bag and other equipment and meet him inside. I hurried to the back of the ambulance and grabbed all I could think we would need. I slung the medical bag over my shoulder and sprinted from the ambulance to the house. Like I said, I was excited! This had the potential to be a great call! Adrenaline swam in my system, just waiting to make me do something stupid.
My partner had gone through a sliding glass door into the living room of the home, so I quickly headed in that direction, not wanting to miss anything. Unbeknownst to me, the door had a bit of a lip at the bottom, so instead of being the hero that saved the day, I ended up tripping on that lip and sailing into the room headfirst, conducting an Olympic-medal-worthy plunge into the room. The firefighters, my partner, and even the patients ducked as my stethoscope, IV supplies, and the medical bag flew into the room at high speed. I, on the other hand, skidded into the room on my face, sprawled out on the floor.

The patients were fighting hypothermia, so after the abrupt entry, they immediately disregarded my presence. I obviously was not the one in control here. The firefighters tried to hide their laughter as they continued assisting with patient care. My partner’s head was down as he was getting vitals. His eyes traveled up to my face on the floor, and he slowly shook his head with contempt before disregarding my presence, much like the patients in the room.
Humiliated, I tried to pull myself together. I jumped up and began collecting all the equipment from throughout the room. I asked if I could help with anything, but my partner ignored me. So instead of getting to be a part of a great call, I ended up being the butt of everyone’s jokes for weeks following. I hadn’t yet learned the three primary rules of EMS. First, Do No Harm. The second and third rules are No Running and No Yelling. No matter how bad the call, there is never a reason to run into a scene. If you allow adrenaline to guide your actions, mistakes will be made, and people will suffer.

My guides have an extremely sick sense of humor and take their teaching responsibilities seriously. Becoming the laughingstock of the ambulance service was an excellent motivator to do better. Point taken. Lesson learned.

Picture this.

You are surrounded by family this holiday season. Big dinner, lots of people. Can you picture it? Now, I assume you are seeing an idyllic family sitting there laughing and showing each other how much they care.

Now smack yourself in the face and wake up. That is not real.

This is what I want you to picture instead. You are surrounded by family this holiday season. Big dinner, lots of people. Can you picture it? Your mother sits next to you and keeps asking you about your love life. Are you ever going to settle down? When will you have children? Blah, blah, blah… Your cousin is nearby nodding in agreement, chiming in about the wonders of parenthood as her child smears gravy all over her blonde hair while screaming bloody murder. Your successful brother sits nearby talking about his great job and great home and great life. Your other brother keeps poking you in your side or giving you wet willies. Your sister is going through a phase and HATES EVERYONE! There is your uncle who can’t keep his hands to himself and gropes every girl he sees, while his wife drowns herself in sherry. Your father also drinks too much but you don’t like it when he drinks because it makes him angry. On more than one occasion you have witnessed the turkey being hurled through the picture window or a table full of food being destroyed because someone dared to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. So you wait until you start to see the switch flip and then you quietly find your exit.

Family. Tis the season, right?

This time of the year can be difficult. Some people feel more alone over the holidays. When that happens, picture the family holiday I described above and I guarantee you will feel a bit lighter, happier, more joyful about your holiday spent alone. When the holidays come around, I want nothing more than to be alone. My dogs are okay, but otherwise, just leave me alone. I am utterly content to make some soups or stews, watch the snow fall, and talk to absolutely no one. Very few people have the idyllic family holiday shown in movies. More often than not, we have complex families that are just exhausting. So glasses up people. Cheers to a quiet, hassle-free holiday without the family drama and stressful travel. Make no plans. Wake up each day and do what makes you most happy.

Happy holidays!

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