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Inspiration comes disguised in a variety of ways.  News stories. Flash floods. A crying child in a grocery store.  A person sitting along the highway holding a ‘will work for food’ sign.  Sometimes it hits you squarely in your heart, and you know you have to change something.

A murdered woman changed my life. She was my inspiration, not so much in life, but at moment of death.  I had known her all my life. She had been outspoken, self-assured, completely her authentic self since she was six-years-old, an age other girls often begin hiding themselves. I admit, I was one of them.

Nineteen sixty’s society gave me a subliminal message I received loudly and clearly. Go to church. Let men be in charge. Do not be smart, hide your worth, good girls are doormats. You are here to be adorable.  

Let us be clear here.  I received the message but I did not buy into it at first.  I was dragged into its confines, kicking and screaming, trying to hold onto my feelings and my real self with abject desperation at the age of twelve.  In the 60’s, in middle earth, a Bible belt, being your female self did not work well.

I probably gave up trying around age eighteen, when I pretended to be civilized, so a college would let me in.  By age 21 I was married, had two small children, and lived in constant fear because we had relocated to a large scary town – Des Moines, Iowa – where murders happened every day. 

When Marlee Bee, who had always spoken her truth, a woman who had never squelched or hidden herself in any way shape or form, was the person who actually did get murdered, my entire perspective changed.  I realized something suddenly and with feeling. ANYONE COULD BE MURDERED.

If they could get Marlee Bee, they could get anybody, because I knew she did not go quietly.  She was a fighter.  I tried not to picture it, knowing it had to be a mob of at least twenty, because I knew Marlee Bee.

If I got murdered tomorrow, I would really be angry with myself for not living MY life at all.  I had been buying into and living a life in deference to my entire personality. I was quiet, shy, and barely spoke, for fear of being ridiculed, worse, of being wrong.  I had selected a completely uninspiring, unhappy life for myself, living not as me, but as what I thought others wanted me to be.

The real me came out hard and fast after Marlee Bee’s funeral – in a fury even I could barely contain. My children were amazed, having never seen the real me.  This threw my husband almost completely off guard, but not totally as we had started off as best friends in seventh grade.  So saying, he knew me before societal norms had completely smacked me down.

Yes, inspiration came to me in the form of a murder. Be yourself, live every day as if it might be your last, because if it is your last, at least you had a great day!  Thank you Marlee Bee for your sacrifice and your need to always and emphatically be you.

You are my angel guide, and guess what? No one has got me yet.
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