The Mission
To create a future of hope for children and families worldwide by eradicating pediatric AIDS, providing care and treatment to people with HIV/AIDS, and accelerating the discovery of new treatments for other serious and life-threatening pediatric illnesses.
The Foundation
The Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation is the leading worldwide nonprofit organization dedicated to identifying, funding and conducting pediatric HIV/AIDS research, preventing mother-to-child transmission of HIV, and promoting global education, awareness and compassion about HIV/AIDS in children.
Building upon the successful model it created with HIV/AIDS, the Foundation is addressing other serious and life-threatening diseases facing children through the Glaser Pediatric Research Network. The Network brings together five of the nation’s pre-eminent academic medical centers in an unprecedented collaboration that will accelerate better treatments for seriously ill children, help train the next generation of pediatric clinical investigators, and serve as a united voice to advocate policies that improve children’s health worldwide.
The Donations
Over the past eight years, particpants of the Nautica Malibu Triathlon, and Triathlon sponsonrs, have raised $1.3 million for The Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. With your help, we can continue to keep that tradition alive. Sponsor me as an athlete and make a donation online at the Nautica Malibu Tri Page. Click the "sponsor an athlete" link at the left and type in my first name - Taralyn.
I lost my Mother to AIDS in 1995. I could not imagine losing a child to this disease. Let's use bloggerland for the greatest good and help create "a future of hope for children and families worldwide by eradicating pediatric AIDS."
Pass it along.
-TL
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Blog the Sixteenth Act I
I recommend spreading her ashes. And I recommend doing it in a way that is most meaningful to you and your family - no matter how wild it may seem.
For 11 years, my Mother's ashes have been resting in the closet of my Aunt's house in North Carolina. That's it. Just sitting there.
I did find it odd that none of us, no one from my Mother's immediate family, had wanted to do anything special with the ashes. But as it turned out, we didn't feel particularly connected to them one way or the other, so it wasn't such a bad thing letting them collect dust where they were.
Over the years, we threw out a lot of random ideas anytime we broached the subject, but nothing ever gave us that "Aha!" feeling that we wanted. Nothing seemed particularly right. For instance, one family member suggested spreading my Mother's ashes in the mountains, which quickly elicited a response from me of, "The Mountains!? When the heck did you ever know my Mother to hike or even exercise?! If we spread her in the mountains, she's gonna slap me in the head the next time she sees me!" And while we spoke quite a bit about spreading her somewhere with lots of flowers, it still didn't seem like enough. For a robust woman like my Mother, who led a very loud life sometimes, leaving her in a colorful yet quite bed of roses didn't seem like it was going to cut it...
Nearly 8 weeks ago, (PS: This will ALL tie in I promise) and coincidentally around the same time I kept having those recurring day dreams, something scary and magnificent happened.
I was sitting at my desk when my co-worker tossed out a random challenge. "Why don't you sign up for the triathlon?" he asked. "You can do it, you've got the balls dog." Initially I laughed, until he mentioned that the money raised benefited some foundation to help sick kids. With some savvy intranet surfing, I found that the triathlon benefits the Elizabeth Glasser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. A Pediatric AIDS foundation. Take that in for a minute... Go ahead and cry if you need to...
In that moment, I felt very warm inside, very peaceful. I wish every time I needed to make a decision I felt like that - that's when my insides know exactly what needs to get done, and how I need to do it, no questions asked.
I found all the info, and within minutes I was looking around to form a team. Thank goodness that this race lets participants form Relay Teams - as I would not have had the wherewithal to complete a triathlon all by myself the first time I participated in one.
I decided that I would do the swim. I didn't realize just then, that I had also apparently decided to face a few more of my life's most challenging fears.
To be continued...
-TL
For 11 years, my Mother's ashes have been resting in the closet of my Aunt's house in North Carolina. That's it. Just sitting there.
I did find it odd that none of us, no one from my Mother's immediate family, had wanted to do anything special with the ashes. But as it turned out, we didn't feel particularly connected to them one way or the other, so it wasn't such a bad thing letting them collect dust where they were.
Over the years, we threw out a lot of random ideas anytime we broached the subject, but nothing ever gave us that "Aha!" feeling that we wanted. Nothing seemed particularly right. For instance, one family member suggested spreading my Mother's ashes in the mountains, which quickly elicited a response from me of, "The Mountains!? When the heck did you ever know my Mother to hike or even exercise?! If we spread her in the mountains, she's gonna slap me in the head the next time she sees me!" And while we spoke quite a bit about spreading her somewhere with lots of flowers, it still didn't seem like enough. For a robust woman like my Mother, who led a very loud life sometimes, leaving her in a colorful yet quite bed of roses didn't seem like it was going to cut it...
Nearly 8 weeks ago, (PS: This will ALL tie in I promise) and coincidentally around the same time I kept having those recurring day dreams, something scary and magnificent happened.
I was sitting at my desk when my co-worker tossed out a random challenge. "Why don't you sign up for the triathlon?" he asked. "You can do it, you've got the balls dog." Initially I laughed, until he mentioned that the money raised benefited some foundation to help sick kids. With some savvy intranet surfing, I found that the triathlon benefits the Elizabeth Glasser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. A Pediatric AIDS foundation. Take that in for a minute... Go ahead and cry if you need to...
In that moment, I felt very warm inside, very peaceful. I wish every time I needed to make a decision I felt like that - that's when my insides know exactly what needs to get done, and how I need to do it, no questions asked.
I found all the info, and within minutes I was looking around to form a team. Thank goodness that this race lets participants form Relay Teams - as I would not have had the wherewithal to complete a triathlon all by myself the first time I participated in one.
I decided that I would do the swim. I didn't realize just then, that I had also apparently decided to face a few more of my life's most challenging fears.
To be continued...
-TL
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Blog the Fifteenth
Clearly by now you will have noticed, Dear Reader, that I am not the most consistent blogger. I wish I could say this lack of consistency was something that only occurred in BloggerLand, but alas, I would be so lucky.
No, my lack of consistency, my lack of routine, my lack of follow through, spreads into nearly every facet of my life. I literally am the Queen of Procrastination - it is a bad thing. And there are a few reasons why.
What does it matter any more? Really. What does it matter?
Clean the house for whom? Mom's not coming over. Wash the dishes for what? Friends and family don't visit. Tidy the living room why? It's only me here in the dark little hole and I don't care enough to make it any better.
What happened to me? I used to have a reason. Even after Mom passed, I used to get up and attack life. An early bird who bounded out of bed, happy to see the sun and eat a great breakfast. I had plenty of exciting jobs, though barely just enough money, but for all intents and purposes, I was okay. I was plugging along. Keeping my head down and hustling, hustling, hustling.
Then one day I looked up - and I asked what is it all for? And then, I stopped moving.
Lately, and at least the last three years, the lack of reason just seems to get worse and worse. I am a single, Motherless Daughter, with no children. What am I fighting for in life? Apparently nothing, if I can't even get my ass in gear enough to take care of the dishes.
I've been asking myself lately - aren't I enough to fight for? Aren't I enough to do the dishes for, to clean for, to workout for? Aren't I enough of a reason to live life, and not merely exist in a space?
As an unprofessionaly trained, but trial by fire caretaker, I want to literally take care of everything, fix everything, make everything great... just for you. I'm getting the feeling, that when a caretaker has no one to take care of outside of themselves, they stop functioning, like a machine that no longer has a purpose, and they don't know what to do with themselves.
This is the worst it's ever been, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it is because it's been a year since I've had a boyfriend (a great reincarnated Sick Mother), I am getting older, Mom's anniversary is getting farther and farther away, and my life is actually great. My life is actually great but it has nothing to do with taking care of anyone else and I am freaking out.
I feel like I am pulling away. I feel like I am pulling away from an old way of life that I am scared to let go of. I feel like I am pulling away from an old way of life that is scared to let go of me.
Imagine this if you will. It's a waking dream that has started to recur recently. I have been doing some very different things as of late (like driving to Vegas by myself to visit family or swimming a race in the ocean...) If I could draw this waking dream, it'd be exactly what my fears would look like ---
I have nearly broken through an entire corridor of cob-webs. I am pushing through at the end. I am reaching out, so desperately and with all my strength, because I can feel the fresh air, because I can feel my hands and my arms not surrounded by cob-webs. I can feel the free. My head is through and I can breathe the air! I can see that past the cob-webs, things are clear, not fantastically great because I'm still in a cave, but at least clear. These goddamn webs are like thick strings of glue. They are taut and relentless. Awful. They will not let me be. Every time I bound forward, I am dragged back. That does not stop me reaching, agonizingly reaching forward, stretching out with every inch of my fingertips. They cannot have me, I am thinking with my teeth gritted. They cannot have me. I don't want to be in there anymore. I want to be out here. Let me take care of me.
-TL
No, my lack of consistency, my lack of routine, my lack of follow through, spreads into nearly every facet of my life. I literally am the Queen of Procrastination - it is a bad thing. And there are a few reasons why.
What does it matter any more? Really. What does it matter?
Clean the house for whom? Mom's not coming over. Wash the dishes for what? Friends and family don't visit. Tidy the living room why? It's only me here in the dark little hole and I don't care enough to make it any better.
What happened to me? I used to have a reason. Even after Mom passed, I used to get up and attack life. An early bird who bounded out of bed, happy to see the sun and eat a great breakfast. I had plenty of exciting jobs, though barely just enough money, but for all intents and purposes, I was okay. I was plugging along. Keeping my head down and hustling, hustling, hustling.
Then one day I looked up - and I asked what is it all for? And then, I stopped moving.
Lately, and at least the last three years, the lack of reason just seems to get worse and worse. I am a single, Motherless Daughter, with no children. What am I fighting for in life? Apparently nothing, if I can't even get my ass in gear enough to take care of the dishes.
I've been asking myself lately - aren't I enough to fight for? Aren't I enough to do the dishes for, to clean for, to workout for? Aren't I enough of a reason to live life, and not merely exist in a space?
As an unprofessionaly trained, but trial by fire caretaker, I want to literally take care of everything, fix everything, make everything great... just for you. I'm getting the feeling, that when a caretaker has no one to take care of outside of themselves, they stop functioning, like a machine that no longer has a purpose, and they don't know what to do with themselves.
This is the worst it's ever been, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it is because it's been a year since I've had a boyfriend (a great reincarnated Sick Mother), I am getting older, Mom's anniversary is getting farther and farther away, and my life is actually great. My life is actually great but it has nothing to do with taking care of anyone else and I am freaking out.
I feel like I am pulling away. I feel like I am pulling away from an old way of life that I am scared to let go of. I feel like I am pulling away from an old way of life that is scared to let go of me.
Imagine this if you will. It's a waking dream that has started to recur recently. I have been doing some very different things as of late (like driving to Vegas by myself to visit family or swimming a race in the ocean...) If I could draw this waking dream, it'd be exactly what my fears would look like ---
I have nearly broken through an entire corridor of cob-webs. I am pushing through at the end. I am reaching out, so desperately and with all my strength, because I can feel the fresh air, because I can feel my hands and my arms not surrounded by cob-webs. I can feel the free. My head is through and I can breathe the air! I can see that past the cob-webs, things are clear, not fantastically great because I'm still in a cave, but at least clear. These goddamn webs are like thick strings of glue. They are taut and relentless. Awful. They will not let me be. Every time I bound forward, I am dragged back. That does not stop me reaching, agonizingly reaching forward, stretching out with every inch of my fingertips. They cannot have me, I am thinking with my teeth gritted. They cannot have me. I don't want to be in there anymore. I want to be out here. Let me take care of me.
-TL
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Blog the Fourteenth
While waiting in my neighborhood post office Tuesday morning, I pulled out my May 2006 copy of "Women's Health" magazine and flipped to the back. Generally I read magazines from back to front, especially if I started at the front once and didn't get all the way through. Switching it up for my brain keeps me frosty, I think. Sort of like running backwards - but I digress.
The last page of the magazine (p. 124) called "The Average Woman" lists statistics I presume are about the average, everyday American Woman (YAY Lenny Kravitz!). In this case the statistics revolved around Mothers, how fitting. So I thought I'd share a few interesting ones here.
Did you know:
1. Nearly 1 in 2: Number of women who say Mom is their best friend
(Before my Mother got very sick, she and I used to be great partners in crime. We were most definitely the best of teams.)
2. Secrets the Average Woman is most likely to keep from Mom: when she lost her virginity and that she dabbled in drugs
(I never dabbled in drugs, but Mom was already gone by the time I lost my virginity. I think she would have laughed at me since it took me so long. She was very much a party type of gal.)
3. Number of women who see or talk with Mom every day: Nearly 1 in 2
(During the week when Mom was around we talked all the time. During the weekends, when it was "her" time, I'd not hear from her for a day or so. Is she were alive today, I think we'd be on the phone all the time.)
4. Percentage of women who address Mom by her first name: 1
(I didn't know my Mom's first name till I was 10!)
5. Best thing Mom ever taught the AW: unconditional love
(Awwwww....)
6. Worst thing: to be a control freak
(Actually that's more of my Grandmother, which may explain why my Mom was a bit of a wild child.)
7. Percentage of women who say becoming a mom improved their relationship with their own: 56
(Way to go ladies! I guess sometimes it is all about walking a mile in their shoes.)
8. Number of women who wish they felt closer to Mom: 1 in 2
(This I didn't and still don't have to worry about. My Mom and I were awfully close when she was alive. I didn't get to experience closeness with her as an adult, so I wasn't privvy to her deep, dark secrets. But I think we might have gotten there if we had more time. And, though she is gone these many years, I do feel close to her even now. I feel our connection is still there.)
9. The AW's favorite dish prepared by Mom: Cookies
(The worst: My Mom's omletes. They tasted like sponges! I used to tell her they could soak up the East River! She'd hiss at me, "Then you can starve!" She was a bit of a drama queen sometimes.)
10. If your mom has heart disease depression: chances you'll get it are 40%, with a lifetime risk of 20% - 25%
(Take care of yourselves ladies.)
-TL
The last page of the magazine (p. 124) called "The Average Woman" lists statistics I presume are about the average, everyday American Woman (YAY Lenny Kravitz!). In this case the statistics revolved around Mothers, how fitting. So I thought I'd share a few interesting ones here.
Did you know:
1. Nearly 1 in 2: Number of women who say Mom is their best friend
(Before my Mother got very sick, she and I used to be great partners in crime. We were most definitely the best of teams.)
2. Secrets the Average Woman is most likely to keep from Mom: when she lost her virginity and that she dabbled in drugs
(I never dabbled in drugs, but Mom was already gone by the time I lost my virginity. I think she would have laughed at me since it took me so long. She was very much a party type of gal.)
3. Number of women who see or talk with Mom every day: Nearly 1 in 2
(During the week when Mom was around we talked all the time. During the weekends, when it was "her" time, I'd not hear from her for a day or so. Is she were alive today, I think we'd be on the phone all the time.)
4. Percentage of women who address Mom by her first name: 1
(I didn't know my Mom's first name till I was 10!)
5. Best thing Mom ever taught the AW: unconditional love
(Awwwww....)
6. Worst thing: to be a control freak
(Actually that's more of my Grandmother, which may explain why my Mom was a bit of a wild child.)
7. Percentage of women who say becoming a mom improved their relationship with their own: 56
(Way to go ladies! I guess sometimes it is all about walking a mile in their shoes.)
8. Number of women who wish they felt closer to Mom: 1 in 2
(This I didn't and still don't have to worry about. My Mom and I were awfully close when she was alive. I didn't get to experience closeness with her as an adult, so I wasn't privvy to her deep, dark secrets. But I think we might have gotten there if we had more time. And, though she is gone these many years, I do feel close to her even now. I feel our connection is still there.)
9. The AW's favorite dish prepared by Mom: Cookies
(The worst: My Mom's omletes. They tasted like sponges! I used to tell her they could soak up the East River! She'd hiss at me, "Then you can starve!" She was a bit of a drama queen sometimes.)
10. If your mom has heart disease depression: chances you'll get it are 40%, with a lifetime risk of 20% - 25%
(Take care of yourselves ladies.)
-TL
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