I say ‘unfortunately’ because my first thought was, “There is another person who, on the outside, looked like she didn’t need help, whose suffering was going on even when she posed with a smile on her face.”

‘Unfortunately,’ because I could relate to the despair and darkness that comes when you believe there is no way out. (I was on top of my pop star career when I sped up my car trying to crash it because I felt I would be better off dead…)

This past week I had several meetings in which I had to give a short summary of my story. As I talked about my own battle with (and victory over) depression and anxiety, I brought up how those who suffer from it usually don’t look sad, ragged and worn out. That’s especially true if you are trying to present a public image of a good wife, mother, church member, etc. It’s unlikely that you will let anyone know of the debilitating panic attacks, sleepless nights, doubts and fears that swarm at you despite the many prayers you pray while begging God to get you out of the chaos.

‘Unfortunately’ also because I’ve heard too many stories of people who had been suicidal, and of those who lost a loved one to suicide.

We need to do better in understanding depression and anxiety, and in taking the stigma off of mental illness…

Following are a few stories that give insight into mental illness:

Alex was 10 when he had suicidal thoughts (read the article here).

Patti lost her son to a suicide (watch her story here) She now has a ministry through which she helps teenagers talk about suicide and come to understand the need for healing before it’s too late.

Please share these links with someone you believe needs help.

I write/speak/coach* on depression and anxiety, so you can always send me a direct email with related questions. (* I’m a trained life coach but not a licensed therapist; I can only coach people, some of whom also need to see qualified medical professionals in order to receive proper medical treatment.) And if you or someone you know needs help, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), or text “help” to the Crisis Text Line at 741-74. You can also go online here. 

Remember this: love and compassion can change someone’s life… even save it.

UPDATE:

Only few days after I wrote this post, I drove my oldest son to pick up a painting he had framed to give it to his girlfriend. He would have driven himself, but he broke his foot. I was feeling a bit down – experiencing a wave of grief, loneliness, slight anxiety over how much was in front of me and how much I had to handle on my own as a single parent – triggered undoubtedly by the heaviness brought on by the loss for Kate Spade’s life and her family.

“What’s new in the world?” I asked my son. “Anthony Bourdain committed suicide,” he said.

“No. You’re kidding. It’s not ok to say that,” I protested. “It’s true, mama. I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”

Bourdain’s death affected me just as hard. Especially after I read an article on Yahoo Entertainment:

The television host also discussed thoughts of depression. In a 2016 episode of Parts Unknown, Bourdain traveled to Argentina for psychotherapy — something widely popular in the country…

Regarding his depression, Bourdain brushed off the public’s response. “I’m not going to get a lot of sympathy from people, frankly,” he said on the episode. “I mean, I have the best job in the world, let’s face it. I go anywhere I want, I do what I want. That guy over there loading sausages onto the grill, that’s work. This is not so bad. It’s alright. I’ll make it.”

As much as Bourdain loved his job — which had him traveling about 250 days a year — he often described life on the road as lonely. “I’m living the dream,” Bourdain told People in 2016. “I have the best job in the world and I’m very grateful for that. And I don’t plan on walking away from that any time soon, I can assure you — but it comes at a cost.”

His marriage to Ottavia Busia ended earlier that year with his schedule being partly to blame. “I now wake up alone in lot of faraway places looking at beautiful vistas and doing interesting things,” he said. “But the truth is I’m alone for most of that time.”

Loneliness and sense of disconnectedness seems to be a disease of our times… And that’s another reason why each of us needs to be “God in skin” – and help to heal deeper, love more and bring love and connectedness to each other.

]]> http://tajci.net/lets-talk-kate-spade-yes-its-uncomfortable/feed/ 0 http://tajci.net/new-book-and-a-very-unique-graduation-present/ http://tajci.net/new-book-and-a-very-unique-graduation-present/#respond Tue, 22 May 2018 19:33:27 +0000 http://tajci.net/?p=9575

Get your copy directly from Tajci (click here) or on Amazon.com

“George is a mother’s surprise gift to her first son upon his graduation from high school.

The mom is Tatiana “Tajci” Cameron, a renowned music artist, author, and life coach—and former pop superstar in her home country of Croatia (formerly Yugoslavia). The son is Dante X. Cameron, a 2018 graduate of Franklin High School in Tennessee. He’s about to leave home and take his award-winning creative talents to Savannah College of Art and Design in Savannah, Georgia.

This book isn’t just a recently widowed mother’s present to her son (the oldest of three brothers)—it is a collaboration between Tajci and Dante. When Dante was 5 years old, Tajci composed this musical story about a boy named George who devotedly plays with and sings about his cherished toys—a fish, a train, and a dinosaur.

Tajci’s inspiration for the book is the colorful art depicting George, his toys, and his bedroom, all of which was drawn by Dante as a little boy years ago (and carefully saved all this time by his mom). Now, these authentic illustrations bring George and his treasured toys to life in this heartwarming tale that depicts not only a little boy’s limitless world of imagination but a mother’s unbounded love for her son.” – Mike Towle, Editor/ Writer WinWin Words

We are glad to surrender to it and offer no resistance. Our soul remembers that this Love, this force, is where we came from, and it’s where we belong and where we want to be.

These moments can be experienced in spiritual awakenings (some people also call them ‘encounters with God’) or life-changing events such as holding a newborn in our hands for the first time.

But there is one place where we experience this Love, in the fullest way possible: relationships –  friendships, parenthood and especially marriage. Here is where moments turn into a life-long practice of Love. (1 John 4:16 “God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”)

The challenging part, however, is that while connecting with Love (the force of Life that comes from our Creator) is mostly an individual thing, relationships happen between two people who are willing to surrender to the same Love – and recognize the sacred power (and sacred responsibility) behind it.

For most people, it’s not easy to trust another person and let our guard down.

As we go through life, most of us accumulate ‘bad’ and hurtful experiences – when our trust is broken, or we feel abandoned, betrayed and rejected. Some people experience sexual or emotional abuse. Each failed relationship – and each violation – makes us afraid to try to connect on a deeper level. We build protective walls and shields around our heart and end up missing out on ever experiencing the Love in which we were meant to live.

But, when we know that the Love we feel for each other is our human experience of the Divine Love that loves us all the time, we can always access it and allow it to restore us. … We find courage to work through the pain and trust love again.

—

“My wife left me,” a coaching client writes in an email. “All she offered as a reason for wanting a divorce was that she always felt lonely in our marriage.”

They were married for decades. They seemed happy – they both had successful careers and healthy kids who went to great schools; they belonged to a church community and volunteered together. They took vacations each year and sent out Christmas cards, looking happy and blessed.

He was shocked that she could be lonely. He was always there – faithful, responsible, and didn’t drink or travel extensively.

“I thought we were happy. But I recognize now that there were many times when she refused me and I didn’t try to understand why. I’d just get angry or resigned, and looked for distractions instead of solutions,” he concludes with regret and a sense of deep loss.

—

I have heard this story dozens, if not hundreds of times, from friends and people I coached to those who have shared with me after my concerts and talks.

We get hurt. When we don’t treat our hurts properly, they heal with big scars. Abusive situations hold so much shame that many victims end up keeping their ‘secrets’ inside without a chance to heal. They hope that, like in the Disney fairy tales, their lover will someday come to rescue and magically wipe it all away.

Instead, the story goes like this: after the first falling-in-love magic fades away – or gets lost between kids, work and home chores – the wife’s unprocessed grief or anger grows into depression and anxiety. Her doctor prescribes medications that numb the feelings of loneliness and put the smile back on her face, but that doesn’t correct the cause of it. It disconnects her even more from her husband, who is somehow still oblivious to the fact that something is going on.

The husband doesn’t know how to connect with her, either. Perhaps he never knew in the first place, because he was told that as a man he has to be in control and not listen to his heart. She withdraws from him; he feels hurt and resentful. Without connection, lovers eventually drift so far apart that they aren’t able to find their way back to each other. They blame each other for their unhappiness. (Men get depressed and suffer from anxiety, too … this example happens with roles reversed.) They distract with work, substance abuse, porn, or superficial internet relationships. The only thing that could bring them back, Love, is the last thing they want to really open up to. It feels too vulnerable and scary. Or futile. It’s easier to simply leave.

—

I learned from my marriage that the hardest thing to do is to dig in deep and work through the pain. There were times when it was incredibly hard to pull out all the ugly hurts I kept inside and allow them to heal slowly and achingly. Yes, we both thought of giving up many times. But we were both stubborn – and we trusted God’s love to help us make it through. We found our way back to each other, surrendered to Love, and when he got sick and passed away, it was pain all over again.

It’s easy to shut yourself off and say: “I’m never going to let myself hurt this much.” But with shutting off, we also shut off the experience of God’s Love for us. And without that Divine Love, how can we love our neighbor, the stranger, the poor? How can we love all creation?

Here are some things that helped me:
Working with a therapist and a coach. A therapist will help uncover and heal the hidden fears and unprocessed hurts. A coach will help you move forward from the past and give you tools to manage new hurts and anxieties (because new hurts and anxieties will always be a part of our lives.)

Learning about yourself involves not just learning about your hurts and fears, but also about your needs and wants.

Communicating openly and honestly. Express how you feel without putting the blame on the other person. Say: “I feel lonely when I am unable to connect with you” instead of “You make me feel lonely.” Learn to listen to the other person as well. Knowing that each of us have our own struggles and battles we are fighting helps us to communicate with a lot more compassion and understanding.

Making it a point to connect with the source of Love; do this by meditating, praying, going out into nature, or sitting still and silent. Be reminded that Love is a force that created everything you see; a force that supports you and surrounds you no matter what needs healing.

It’s like dying a little bit each time and growing into a new life – letting go of what’s safe and comfortable, and accepting the uncertainty and the challenge of the road ahead.

We give our all, we bare our soul, willing to feel and express what we feel through our music, so that others can tap into their own feelings and let them go too…

And on Monday mornings when most people are getting ready for work, we come home tired but satisfied. We quietly unpack our travel bags and process our experiences. Unglamorous and unfiltered, we slip into our roles as parents, spouses, neighbors and friends…

Earlier this year, I went in to do a presentation for the Music Honors Society Club.

I spoke to the teenagers about the importance of music education (and music theory!), and why it’s crucial that they know WHY they want to pursue a music career (because the sense of purpose will get them through tough times and help them persevere.)

These were all Honors Students, smart and serious and responsible. Almost a bit too mature for their age. I could tell they were all a bit tired from the stresses of all that’s been going on…

At the end of my talk, one student asked me to sing a song. She said, ‘one you like to sing the most.’

I looked at them and their teachers and thought to myself ‘why not!’

I sang “Those Were the Days” – just like I sing it at our family parties and in my less formal concerts and gigs. Several of them started to tap their foot during the fun “na na na na na na” part, and at the end, when I invited them to sing with me, they all let their voices out. Their faces stretched into smiles, their eyes widened with that inner (still child-like) joy and they sang… for a moment, at least a little bit of the emotional turmoil they are going through, was released…

It was such an incredible moment.

Several kids thanked me and said how wonderful that felt. “It’s so good to express our feelings through music,” said one girl to me…

What is your favorite song that you can sing – and express your feelings through?

Put it on, turn the volume up and sing along (or play it yourself if you are an instrumentalist.) Let tears come. Or laughter. Or all of it. Let go of your comfortable, safe place, and let some of your ‘holding it together’ self die a little. And then let the music bring you the grace and love you need to be renewed.

I’ll be singing with you

I wasn’t prepared for what was ahead of us … I realized in that moment that I had no idea what life would look like now that we were no longer a family of five. And perhaps the empty space Matthew left behind was something I hadn’t wanted to face since his passing … until now.

The pain I was still in the middle of was similar to being in this spot six miles above the ocean … I couldn’t just walk up to the pilot and politely ask him to land the plane because I was done flying … And, yeah, sometimes we can quit and get off before we reach our destination rather than endure the entire journey … but sometimes we have no control over it. That’s where I was at, still grieving my husband’s recent death and finding a home awaiting us all that much emptier without my mom there, too.

There was no captain in charge of my grief … or the life path I was on … I simply had to keep my engines running and fly through whatever was, and is, ahead.

I sat straight up in the uncomfortable seat and closed my eyes. I took several deep breaths. “Breathe in love, exhale grief” … “Inhale love, exhale grief” … I repeated to myself. My breath brought me back into the present moment – in which, yes there was pain, but there were also my boys … and gratitude … We were flying home from an amazing trip to the Austrian Alps!

And just like the thought of what lies ahead created a whirl of anxiety, sadness, and even fear inside of me, the thoughts of the past week eventually moved my emotions into a warm, happy place. I had a wonderful time with my old friends; my boys enjoyed every moment of it; and, as an unexpected bonus, I had experienced a huge transformation …

My long-time friend Ivana invited us to come to the ski camp her husband runs in Hinterstoder, a quaint village in the Austrian Alps. I went there making sure everyone understood I was not a skier or interested in learning. I would either stay in our hotel in the village, take walks, drink tea and read books, or I’d ride a gondola up to the top and sit in one of the cute Austrian restaurants, sipping cappuccino and enjoying watching the good people in their ski gear having fun. Because that’s what I have always done. That was me. I am an artist; I don’t like cold, and I have never been athletic. I had made these nice labels for myself a long time ago, and I displayed them now with pride and without a morsel of insecurity or the interest to change.

On the first day of our arrival, however, Ivana had laid out all the beautiful skiing apparel for me – the sleek black snow pants, fitted blue jacket (that I inspected closely trying to understand what in the world made it so warm and impermeable to wind and water) and a hat with a pom-pom, which I thought made me look younger (which, let’s be honest, is a huge incentive to hit the ski slopes). I jumped at the opportunity to model the clothes and snap a few pictures. When Ivana began to fit me for ski boots, I laughed and joked but played along … I was surprised by the excitement I suddenly felt about actually getting on skis.

We had wanted to take this trip for many winters. Matthew was a fearless man who would do anything for a thrill. He loved Ivana and Goran. And he loved to take our sons out of their comfort zones while passing on his sense of freedom to them. Life just got busy and complicated, and we were waiting for that magical ‘right time’ to do this.

Maybe I wanted to try to fill his role and be there for our boys – even just a little bit. And maybe because I knew now that there is no promise of tomorrow. … Whatever the reasons, the next day, I boarded the gondola carrying a pair of skis instead of a backpack with a book and a journal inside.

Goran, our ski instructor was patient and thorough. My kids picked it up faster than me, and they soon took off. I was surprised how excited and unself-conscious I felt despite being left behind on a baby slope with five- and six-year-olds. I couldn’t decide whether the lack of judgment was coming from my friends, from other skiers who didn’t care one bit, or from myself. I felt completely present, and I quickly emerged into the excitement of conquering a new skill.

The Alps were grand and gorgeous, welcoming and safe. The sky was clear, the air was crisp, and the sun was warm enough for me not to feel any cold.  

I worked on my turns and stops diligently, not even bothering to check out the restaurant – I had more important things to do.

On the third day, Ivana decided I was ready for the training hill. I trusted her, and so we headed for the ‘shulift.’

I have trusted Ivana my whole life. She has been there for me in many of my life-changing experiences – from arranging a meeting with God when I was a teenager, to helping me make the decision to leave Croatia many years ago, to supporting me through Matthew’s illness, and to coaching me to overcome some of my biggest fears. She was a master skier, and I knew she wouldn’t let me do something I couldn’t handle.

At the top of the hill, I realized in horror the hill was much steeper and bigger than it looked from the bottom. “This is still a training hill,” she said, sensing what I was feeling. “We’ll go really slow.”

It took us a long time to get down that hill. I accidentally fell once and purposely threw myself down several times so I wouldn’t fall. In the middle of all this, I felt like I wanted to quit. It was still a long way down, and I was getting tired … I didn’t think I could do this… My legs began to shake, and thoughts like “You are such a fool for thinking you can do this” began to swarm in my brain.

Ivana stood there with me, patient, steady, encouraging me, looking for the flatter sections of the slope where I could easily stop and catch my breath, clear my thoughts, and regain focus and confidence. She found the right words, and showed me just the right body movements to get me to take the next, small baby step. Just like she had done a hundred times before. With love of a friend who loves you across the ocean and through a million years …

When we were almost at the bottom, she said gently to me, “You can let go now … Just slide down … toward the restaurant …”

I giggled nervously and let go.

My 12-year-old son swooshed beside me with a speed and confidence of a veteran skier … “He is a natural,” Ivana said. “He has no fear,” I said. “He hasn’t been down the hills and roads on which we fall and hurt ourselves. He is too young for his mind to bring up the memories of past failures, scary life-slopes and that after-the-fact horror that sinks in when we realize what we had just gone through. After the adrenaline rush is over, the mind takes over the surrender and creates ‘information’ to keep us safe from harm (and similar experiences) for next time.”

I went right past the restaurant and back to my baby hill. I was not going to quit. Or get discouraged. Or talk myself into slapping my old labels back on and forgetting this whole idea – it’s just not me to give up. Like with so many things in my life, I was open to change and transformation that so beautifully help us shed the learned fears, and I would be courageous to live fully. And conquer slopes no matter what they look like. Know that we are never left alone – sometimes there will be friends to support us, be that “God in skin” for us; and sometimes, we will rely on the inner strength and connection to the life force within us.

Back on the plane, I decided to stop thinking about what I had no control over … life will be what it will be. I’ll take the big scary hill ahead one step at a time.  Perhaps I’ll fall; perhaps I’ll have to throw myself down a few times in order not to pick up too much speed and crash. Eventually, however, I’ll get to a place where I’ll be safe to let go and slide down the no-longer-scary hill, giggling with joy.

“Mama, there’s the movie you wanted to see: ‘Murder on the Orient Express,’” my 12-year-old son said to me, smiling.

I enjoyed it …especially the theme song at the end that helped me release the pain I had been holding in.

At home, after my kids had returned to school (this had been their spring break) and the house became too quiet, I sat down to my piano and sang the song from the movie …  There’s no use distracting from pain that comes because we love deeply – or numbing, or labeling ourselves ‘strong’ and ‘put together’ and ‘in control.’ Life is a beautiful, ever-changing journey …

I arrived in Cincinnati late afternoon. Before heading to Linda’s, I stopped by our family’s old house and cried a river of tears over a life that was behind me.

Every single memory of my boys playing there, laughing and climbing on trees and pantry shelves; of my husband Matthew and me working on the house, booking concerts; of sharing meals and drinks with our musicians and friends before departing on tours; of arguments and frustrations, of tears and kisses – every single memory flashed by in my head at the speed of thought (which must be faster than the speed of light because I stood there for only a few seconds). Then it all crashed into my heart, awakening grief. I broke down and cried for a while. . . . Then I took a few breaths and stopped my thoughts from dragging me down into a place of despair.

I knew I had to move through this grief. I had gone to Cincinnati to see Linda, to give her a hug and to hold her hand for a short while.

So, I paused and intentionally silenced the thoughts that were feeding my grief.

Instead of thinking thoughts of how Matthew was not there with me to share these memories, I said, “Thank you, Matthew, for living them with me.” Instead of thinking how I missed having little toddlers around, I said, “I’m so grateful for who my boys are today.” Instead of thinking about how much suffering Matthew had endured, and instead of reliving my own anxiety and feeling of helplessness, I whispered: “You are free of all pain and fear.”

—

I sang for Linda and held her hand. She smiled peacefully and gave me a thumbs-up when I said I’d stop by again in a few weeks.

I drove back to Nashville that same evening and collapsed into bed.

Although I was exhausted, I lay awake for a long time.

I couldn’t change the fact that Matthew would never be sleeping next to me again. I couldn’t make Linda’s path any easier. . . . I couldn’t know what lies ahead…

My only choice was to either let pain and fear crush me like a 30-foot tidal wave and drown in my own tears, or I could let them pass through me like a storm.

And the next day? Well, after going through a storm, one must recover. So, I stayed in bed. (Thank God for my mom being around and my job being flexible!)

—

No matter what is going on in your life right now, breathe through it. . . .

Stop the thoughts that drag you deeper into despair and darkness and, instead, think ones that give you strength. (It’s really just a different way of saying, “Look for a silver lining,” or “Keep your eyes on God.”)

And allow yourself to heal after a storm…

With love and gratitude,

Tatiana ‘Tajci’ Cameron

When I was a kid, New Year’s Eve was a big deal. It still is a huge night of celebration in Croatia, an important one. Or maybe it’s just a great excuse to have friends over, play music, dance, get all excited, and laugh and cry all at once. And the next day, start anew. (Although in Croatia, we first have a New Year’s Eve Reprise – complete with the countdown, the champagne, and a band . . . )

Blais sat next to me, ready to count down and watch the Ball Drop in New York City’s Times Square. We had been spending a few days at a friend’s condo in Florida . . . near the ocean. It felt good to be just us at the end of a very difficult year . . .

“10, 9, 8 . . . ” I jumped on my feet, as excited as a child. “7, 6, 5 . . . ” I glanced at my boys, who were much calmer than me. . . . “4, 3, 2, 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” I yelled. I hugged Blais and kissed his cheek, making my way to Evan, Dante and my mom – while Frank Sinatra sang “New York, New York.”

And then it hit me like a tidal wave . . . this deep sadness . . . a triggered memory of endings, of not wanting to say goodbye and let go. And a realization, that without endings, there could never be new beginnings. Without the night, there could never be a new dawn. “I’ll always love you, Matthew!” I thought, believing he could hear me.

I didn’t want to make the kids sad, seeing me cry. “It’s OK to cry, Mama.” Blais said, before I could turn my face away and let my tears flow out like a river after months of rain. In my heart, I saw the remnants of 2017 float away…

As we got really quiet, the voice of Andra Day filled the room: “I’ll rise up . . . Rise like the day . . . I’ll rise up . . . In spite of the ache,” and I let her song comfort me . . . (If you pay attention, there is ALWAYS the perfect song playing for you – whether it’s on the radio, your playlist, or through a bird outside your window.) “I’ll rise up . . . And I’ll do it a thousand times again . . . ”

The next morning, I woke up before the sun. I grabbed my journal and a blanket and sat on the balcony, ready to watch the First Sunrise of 2018. It was calm, beautiful and so pink – just like the morning when Matthew passed. And I felt tremendous peace and lightness of being. I felt energized and renewed.

I felt like one feels after they put down a heavy suitcase and decide that they don’t need its contents for the journey ahead.

And the storm that rolled in the next day (yes, even Florida got a taste of it) couldn’t bring me down.

Because I knew there could be no sunrise without a night, and no spring without a winter.

Have a blessed and happy New Year!

Of course, each day, each moment, gives us this “new beginning,” but somehow, it’s easier to make a new commitment to transform our lives when everyone around us is trying to do the same. So, why not take advantage of the energy and momentum of these next few days and commit to a new life – one which would bring you the change you desire?

Whether you hope to have more financial freedom, a better relationship with your spouse or a family member, or more joy in your life, you can make it happen!

Ten years ago, I was wrapped in a deep depression. I prayed to God to help me, and I expected a miracle that, ultimately, wasn’t coming. I sat in sacred chapels, cried in silence, got down on my knees and begged, and stayed in the same place asking why my prayers weren’t being answered.

My marriage began to fall apart. After an emotional breakdown, I started seeing a therapist. She helped me heal. Several years of therapy got me to a point where I felt better and could deal with the past, but I was still unable to move forward.

I then found a coach who helped me identify where I wanted to be, and she guided me on my quest to get there. During that journey, I learned many amazing tools and “secrets,” which weren’t really secrets at all – I just never saw them as powerful and useful. (Much like Dorothy’s ruby red slippers.)

This past year WAS a huge turning point in my life. During the nine months of my husband’s battle with cancer, I practiced all the tools I had learned, developed and rediscovered. I lived what I believed. It was a combination of discipline, intentional choices and surrender to God (the source of Life.)

Mindful breathing was one of the tools.

It was like an anchor that would quickly bring me to a place (state of mind) still and calm, from where I could make those intentional choices as well as surrender.

You see, with each breath, our bodies expel CO 2 (carbon dioxide) that is toxic to us. We exhale what we don’t need and inhale what renews our cells and keeps us alive. (This became more than a biology lesson during my husband Matthew’s last months of battling non-smoker’s lung cancer … when his body couldn’t get rid of the toxic CO 2 fast enough, he would quickly get confused, lethargic and comatose.)

This exchange of the carbon dioxide that our body doesn’t need for the life-giving oxygen it does need is a strong metaphor for the point I’m making about purposeful breathing.

What if, with each breath, we could also get rid of thoughts that are no longer serving us: thoughts that can grow into a mindset or belief and truly become toxic; or thoughts that can turn our memories into a source of regret and sadness; or thoughts that trigger behaviors we want to change but have been unable to do so.

What if, with each exhale, we made room in our hearts, minds and spirit for Love, grace and healing?

What if your transformation, the change you desire could begin with that one purposeful breath?

It happened for me.

In 2016, I put together an online course based on Five Elements of Transformation. I included everything I had learned and everything that eventually helped me through my challenges.

In 2017, I used the course for myself – to get me through Matthew’s illness and, especially, his passing.

A few of my team members helped me put my course on a very user-friendly platform, and I’m excited to announce that we will be launching it in January.

If you have a moment, check it out at Quest.WakingUpRevolution.com/

For now, exhale all the toxic junk that your body, mind and soul don’t need, and in its place inhale grace, love and new life. It will carry you through the New Year and beyond!

Happy New Year!

Tatiana ‘Tajci’ Cameron

It was late afternoon and I was returning home from running an errand, my youngest son Blais in the car with me. “I don’t like that it gets dark so early in the day,” he said at one point, gazing out the window. “But we have so many more hours to enjoy all the Christmas lights!” I replied, trying to put a happy spin on things.

My husband Matthew Shane Cameron was a kind of guy who “left easy” – without burdening those he was leaving with too much attachment. But even though you might think he had moved on, he never forgot the people whom he met. He had an amazing ability to remember people’s names and details from their lives.

At his final farewell, many of his old college friends showed up. They travelled hundreds of miles to say their goodbyes. He was known to them as ‘Tumbleweed” – and most knew him for his adventurous and always-on-the-go nature. He too loved his college circle of friends. He often spoke about so many of them – to me, to our kids and to the strangers we met around the country as we toured for 15 years.

But as I spoke to them at the funeral, I realized that they might not know the Matthew I knew. He was always interested in other people, and he spoke about himself very little.

I wondered how many of all those people who loved him really knew what he was doing out there – how amazing he was at producing tours after tours, managing many people and different personalities, building a venture that not only supported his family and a crew of musicians, but changed lives of thousands and thousands of people.

Apart from being a great producer, Matthew supported and encouraged me to write, to create, to sing, and to be courageous. (He’s done that for many people whom he worked with – from Christopher to our musicians, to his Stormlight Pictures partners Logen and Corey)

His diagnosis put him center stage. No one else became more important or needing support than him. He had to, maybe for the first time in his life, put himself first – focus on his healing, ways to stay strong, ways to deal with pain, ways to love himself and accept God’s love for him.

His close friends, college buddies and hundreds of strangers who poured out their love when he first got diagnosed – helped him with that. And my sons and I are eternally grateful for that.

In the end, Matthew, whose life’s joy was to serve others, who was the happiest when he could DO something for people and God (produce films, concerts, build houses, throw parties, lead trips, never miss Mass, pray Rosary, etc…) – knew so well that simply BEING Matthew Shane Cameron was enough to be loved.

And that’s the part he got to share with people – and he was so grateful to hear feedback from those who were moved by his transparency, his openness, his brokenness and his strength – founded in that Love.

Every time someone wrote to him how something he said inspired them to dig deeper, love more, be true to themselves, be free, he was truly happy…

That was the ‘why’ behind his work of helping people figure out their own ‘why’s’ – because it’s who we are (souls loved and created to love) that is important – and then from that place, we can do all things…