Moving to a Higher Zip-Code: An Accidental Journey

By Deb Brown RsM

There is perhaps no greater gift one person can give another than to share his or her story. This book is one of those gifts. Moving to A Higher Zip-Code is a heartfelt and honest snapshot of one woman’s life. It is the no-holds-barred account of how Deb Brown, RsM, reached her “higher zip-code” — and how you can use what she learned along the way to reach your own.

Deb vulnerably shares details of a dysfunctional childhood, addictive relationships and behaviors, dark nights of the soul, family tragedy and betrayal, and more in a voice that is relatable and highly authentic.

Like all of us, she stumbles and falls — but she also picks herself up in a way that is both instructional and inspirational.

In Moving to A Higher Zip Code, we see Deb at sixty sharing the wisdom and experience that opened her to self-love and self-care, learning to believe and trust in synchronicity and the universe; finding her soul mate; and ultimately discovering inner peace.

Knowing that we are never too old to make changes in our life or in finding true love.

Accepting daily challenges made her life manageable again. And she chose to live in peace rather than in the turmoil created by her mind.

I invite you to tear back the cover of this precious gift and get lost in its pages. With each twist and turn of Deb’s “accidental journey,” and as you face your own shadow and light along the way, I hope you find your own place in the world and a higher zip code of our own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Sep 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781982253103

Deb Brown RsM

Deb Brown has a masters degree in Religious Studies and is an interfaith inspirational story teller and teacher. She is working on a doctorate and lives with her husband Brian dividing their time between Maine and Mississippi.

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 Deb Brown, RsM.

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

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views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use

of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical

problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The

intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you

in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any

of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right,

the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5309-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5310-3 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 09/18/2020

Contents

Foreword

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Part One

Chapter 1     I Planned ~ The Universe Laughed

Chapter 2     Out Goes the Old ~ In Comes the New

Chapter 3     Emotionally and Financially Bankrupt ~ and Almost Fifty

Chapter 4     My Left Foot and Other Blessings

Chapter 5     Wake Up and Smell the Awareness

Chapter 6     Just The Facts Ma’am

Chapter 7     I Believe I Can Fly

Chapter 8     Exploration, Discovery and Humble Pie

Chapter 9     Prison Release and Other Ambitious Vacation Goals

Part Two

Chapter 10   Dreams and Wishes Do Come True

Chapter 11   Decisions, Joplin, and The Blues

Chapter 12   Road-Trips and Other New Beginnings

Chapter 13   Getting To Know Him ~ Getting To Know All About Me

Chapter 14   Birthday Cakes, Foot Massages and Music

Chapter 15   There Are Ankle Biters ~ Then There’s Pete

Chapter 16   Summertime and The Livin’ Is Easy ~ At Least It Should Be

Chapter 17   My Covenant ~ Living As Love

Chapter 18   Moving To A Higher Zip-Code ~ Not Just A Physical Location

Chapter 19   Resistance Was Fu-Tile

Chapter 20   Dante’s Fifth Level Of Hell

Chapter 21   What Isn’t Fatal Isn’t Final

Chapter 22   Vacation Spots and Other Wish Lists

Chapter 23   Happy Are The Campers The Sun Shines On

Chapter 24   When FEAR Becomes My Friend, I Face Everything And Rise

Chapter 25   Cold Turkey ~ More Than Thanksgiving Leftovers

Chapter 26   Journey To C-Land ~ The Land Of The Dark Unknown

Chapter 27   Radiation, Chemo and Thundering Trains

Chapter 28   Brand New Days ~ Brand New Ways

Chapter 29   Synchronicity and A World Of Surprises

Part Three

Chapter 30   Disappointment, Heartache, and Pain

Chapter 31   Pain Is Love In The Darkness

Chapter 32   RSO ~ The Other Alternative Treatment

Chapter 33   Not The End ~ But A New Beginning

A Tribute To Rosa

Epilogue

About The Author

Foreword

There is perhaps no greater gift one person can give another than to share his or her story. This book is one of those gifts.

Moving To A Higher Zip-Code is a heartfelt and honest snapshot of one woman’s life. It is the no-holds-barred account of how Deb Brown, RsM, reached her higher zip-code — and how you can use what she learned along the way to reach your own.

Deb vulnerably shares details of a dysfunctional childhood, addictive relationships and behaviors, dark nights of the soul, family tragedy and betrayal, and more in a voice that is relatable and highly authentic. Like all of us, she stumbles and falls — but she also picks herself up in a way that is both instructional and inspirational.

Deb’s accidental journey is synchronistic at every turn, including our friendship. I first met her when I was a pre-teen. She worked with my mom. The two would come to our house for lunch. She was fun and funny. Our paths didn’t intersect for long. However, she was one of those people I always thought about with fond memories.

We had no way of knowing how many parallels our lives would contain during the next forty-plus years. We developed our passion for writing and sharing our stories. We each faced cancer in our own way. We questioned the existence of God and our reason for being here. We both kept fighting for and believing in something greater. When each of us had reached perhaps the lowest points in our lives, we both found a Unity church in the right place — Deb in Mississippi and me in South Florida — at the right time. It was during an online Unity class from across many miles that we realized who the other was and rekindled our friendship without missing a beat. Life is like that when you are open to it.

In Moving To A Higher Zip Code, Deb shares the wisdom and experience that opened her to self-love and self-care, learning to believe and trust in synchronicity and the universe; finding her soul mate; and ultimately discovering inner peace.

I invite you to tear back the cover of this precious gift and get lost in its pages. With each twist and turn of Deb’s accidental journey, and as you face your own shadow and light along the way, I hope you find your own place in the world. We all deserve a higher zip code of our own.

Rev. Garrett A. Foster

Delray Beach, Florida, and Merida, Mexico

August 2020

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my maternal Grandmother Agnes, who is always with me in spirit and to each of my friends and family members who transitioned and moved to their higher zip-code during the years I worked on this book.

Dave, Mom & Dad, Sam, Davida, Ralph, Rosa, Sam and Pete, may you all be blessed and find peace wherever your journey takes you.

Each of you has a forever home in my heart. I love you all, to the moon and back.

Acknowledgments

Thank you, my beloved husband, Brian, you are the most agreeable and supportive person I’ve ever known. This book is only possible because of you. Your love encouraged me to become the best version of me I could create. I am so glad we took this journey together. I’ve loved you forever.

Thank you, Reverend Alison Benjamin, for the beautiful artwork you created for the cover of this book.

My dear friend and fellow truth student, Reverend Garrett Foster. Thank you for your friendship, encouragement, and for agreeing to write the forward for this book. Your input has been invaluable, and our prayer group remains one of the few constants in my life. I am eternally grateful for your continued dedication to both your friends and your calling. You’ve blessed and continue to bless many lives every day, including mine.

Thank you, Chad Hill, for your meticulous efforts in editing this book, and your continued support throughout the entire writing process.

To Ralph Zuleeg, my first friend on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Thank you for such a warm southern welcome and our exercise-bike journeys. Your zest for life was both intoxicating and contagious, giving new meaning to living life on purpose — with purpose. I know you are continuing your amazing adventures wherever you are. Adiós Amigo!

To Rosa Perry, my first friend at Unity Church in Gulfport. May you find the peace you longed for. Namaste, dear friend.

To Carl G. Jung for coining the term synchronicity, during the 1935 Tavistock Lectures. The being and coming together of completely separate events at the precise moment. Jung went on to say, events that happen together to the body and mind are two aspects of the living being, and they happen together in a miraculous and unexplainable way.

And to my dear readers, may you all be blessed in extraordinary ways. I send Blessings, Love, and Light to each of you.

Deb Brown, RsM

Introduction

At the beginning of Brian’s challenge with cancer, something touched my soul, and I awoke, viewing my life from a more positive perspective. My story is about synchronicity and faith, finding Unity Church in Mississippi, and examining and redefining my life by shifting my thoughts, ideas, and beliefs in a higher power that, over time, I’ve come to call God. By raising my spiritual consciousness, practicing new principles and self-care, I experienced physical, emotional, and spiritual growth that promised a calmer and more balanced future for my husband Brian and me.

A synchronistic thread of events runs throughout this story and has played a significant role in us finding a cancer center that physically moved us from an 04957 zip-code in New England to a 39501 zip-code in Mississippi.

Moving To A Higher Zip-Code is about the freedom I found to explore and discover my spiritual principles. Concepts that lovingly led me out from a place of darkness, opening my heart to the healing light of love and compassion. When I embraced life, I transformed into the person I was created to be. By seeing each day through a newer and finely focused lens, I recognized my toxic thoughts, words, and deeds. Banning them from my life liberated me. I felt comforted and loved by offering comfort and love while I companioned Brian through his diagnosis of terminal fourth stage lung cancer.

There were times when life challenged us or appeared to turn on us without warning. In an instant, my role shifted from being a wife to a caregiver. During that period, without knowing what the duration would be, short or long term, there was a need for me to find a balance between being a compassionate and loving companion while at the same time taking care of my own physical and emotional needs.

Practicing spiritual principles and self-care helped me manage my stress. I learned to balance the roller coaster of emotions I felt by getting the proper amount of rest, eating nutritional foods, exercising, and learning to ask for assistance when I needed it. One of the best self-care tools I found was practicing affirmative prayer and meditation.

This story is about finding my faith and believing in a higher power, something more substantial than me, and knowing it was real, even though I couldn’t see it. My story is about new beginnings and old endings. Learning to be the best I could be by setting my attention and my intentions toward building a solid spiritual foundation.

While living at my highest and best potential, I faced life challenges with both ease and grace.

I am grateful for the day and for the privilege that Brian and I have — living life for another day, enjoying every moment.

Knowing we are the creators and the authors of our stories, and that we have a responsibility to write and rewrite it until we get it right. This story is my rewrite, my second chance — my third, and I share it here with you.

For reasons I’m not clear on, one night after Brian’s first week of chemotherapy and radiation, I sat in my overstuffed reading chair thinking about my dysfunctional past. Sitting there, I thought about my life before Brian, the synchronistic events leading up to my leaving the mid-west, my moving back to New England, and my meeting Brian. The past weighed heavily on my mind.

It was difficult to believe how so many unrelated events, over so many years, had come together, connecting seamlessly, like a Charles Wysocki 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle leading me to that exact moment — synchronicity had been working overtime.

I invite you, my dear gentle reader, to grab a hot or cold beverage, sit back, get comfortable, and relax as I take you along for a ride on my accidental journey. One that started a long time ago — way back in the past before Brian and I were even born.

Part One

God is in the details. ~ Lugwig Mies Van der Rohe, 1969

Chapter One

I Planned ~ The Universe Laughed

June 2003

I was living in the mid-west, and I had an excellent career working as a contractor for a company in their IT department, making more money than I’d ever made in my life. The company even paid my tuition to attend a local university, where I graduated cum laude with a bachelor’s degree in Business Management and Information Technology. Since my career was going so well, I bought a house with a duck pond, on a dead-end road appropriately named Wildflower Ridge.

I loved sitting outside. It was serene and quiet, gazing at the moonless, pitch-black sky. Without any reflection from the inner-city lights, pinhole-sized stars peppered the cosmos. There was no sound other than the universe whispering to me in a calm voice, All is right with the world.

Everything in my life was perfect, right down to my well-hydrated garden, thriving in an ideal balance of sunshine and rain. Confident, my job was secure, I bought a brand new 2003, Chrysler Sebring — a midnight black convertible, fully loaded with heated leather seats. She was sleek and sassy, and I fantasized I was twenty-five again. With no financial worries concerning my future, I planned to travel to Egypt, where I would ride camels and then go to Greece, where I would explore ancient ruins, just as soon as I had vacation time. I loved my relaxed, extraordinary, carefree lifestyle.

Chapter Two

Out Goes the Old ~ In Comes the New

2004 ~ Happy New Year!

Monday morning, January 5, I arrived at work, eager to start my day. A memo sat on my desk, announcing an unexpected staff meeting beginning within the next ten minutes.

Walking into the conference room, I saw five of my co-workers drinking coffee, eating warm fresh bagels, speculating about the topic of the meeting. I know without a doubt none of us saw this coming. Before the staff-meeting had a chance to begin and without warning, apologies, or alternative options, the plant manager announced the company was eliminating all contracting positions effective immediately as part of their efforts to restructure.

You all have about thirty minutes to gather up your personal belongings and report back here, he said in a monotone emotionless voice and left the room. We looked at each other, shell shocked, and then headed to our cubicles to clear out our desks.

Heavy laden with boxes, we gathered once again in the conference room. Security guards stood by to escort our group like juveniles from the premises.

I was stunned, had someone just shot me with a tranquilizing gun? What concerned me most was how soon it would be before I would find a job making the amount of money I needed to maintain my current lifestyle, and worse, I was in debt up to my wah-zoo and couldn’t afford to be out of work for long.

I spent the next few weeks looking for a job, and my prospects of finding something grew bleaker and less promising with every passing day. If I didn’t secure something soon, life as I knew it would end up in the toilet, along with my car, my house, my credit, and my self-respect.

Steve, my love addiction during this time, was unable for whatever reason to make a long-term commitment to me. We’d been dating for over three years, and as far as I knew, the relationship was neither growing nor moving forward. I wasn’t looking for marriage, but he couldn’t even say I love you, something I wanted and needed to hear.

My heart pounded, and my breathing grew shallow whenever he called, or I saw him. Had I realized sooner that I was responding to addiction, I might have been able to kick it to the curb and move on. But no, I thought it was love and held on to it with clenched fists, unable to let go.

In a perfect world, wouldn’t it be grand to meet and partner with the ideal person right from the beginning? Live out our lives growing old together, secure, happy, and in peace. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case with me and most of my past relationships, romantic or otherwise. But, with each ended relationship, I learned something new about myself, and that was just how dysfunctional all my relationships had been. So why did I continue to pick the same experiences expecting different results?

That’s why when I met Brian in 2007, I wanted something different. I wanted a perfect comfortable world with him. It wasn’t fair to find real love only to have cancer steal it from me. Sitting back in my chair, I inhaled quietly, crying softly, alone in the night, not wanting to wake him.

Oh! What a pity party I had sitting there beating myself up as I continued thinking about all the failed relationships that had come before Brian. And for whatever reason, I couldn’t shake off my memories of Steve. Why was it when I was already deep in pain, I was thinking about another emotionally distressing time?

Challenges are life lessons we learn from when we pay attention. I needed to start paying attention. Sitting there in the dark, I wondered what lessons I had learned over the years. And then I asked myself how was it possible I eventually got it right with Brian? How had I stopped the repetitious pattern of meeting, dating, and falling for the wrong guy for all the wrong reasons? I could write a book on all the love addictions, food addictions, drug and alcohol addictions I’d had over my lifetime that had left me feeling empty and alone but still craving more of the same. If I were to author a book about it, I’d call it Bitten by Addiction.

May 2004

My job had ended in January, and I’d been looking for another one ever since. It was already May, and I needed to find something soon to keep my house from going into foreclosure so that I could stay in the mid-west. I hoped Steve would come to my rescue, ask me to sell my house and move in with him until I found work. At the very least, I wished he would tell me he loved me, and assure me he would be there for me when I needed emotional support from him.

I was running out of money, with no promise of work, and my parents were urging me to move back home, which was the last thing I wanted to do. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my parents, but I knew moving back would defeat my entire purpose for having moved away in the first place. I needed total freedom from their dysfunctional control over me. Going back to New England would be a sign I failed yet again, and I was tired of feeling like a failure. I wanted and needed something in my life that confirmed I was a productive contributing member of society. Something that fueled my passion for life, and right then, I had no clue what that was or where I would find it.

One afternoon in May, Steve and I were at our friend Dave’s house checking out his kid’s new trampoline — as usual Dave was showing off. He was proving how high he could jump and then wanted us to watch him as he did a backflip. You’re a damn forty-year-old fool, Dave. Stop acting like a drunken ass and get off that thing. Steve yelled at him.

As we turned to go back into the house, we heard a loud thump. Dave let out a sound unlike any I’d ever heard before — and hope I never hear again. Steve ran over to a limp body lying on the ground while I ran into the house and dialed 911.

Without offering any details, the EMTs loaded Dave’s unresponsive body into the ambulance and sped away with lights flashing and sirens blasting. I jumped into my car. I had to catch up with Dave’s wife, Jayne before she left work. I arrived just as she was exiting the building. Jayne, get into the car. Dave’s had an accident, and we need to get to the hospital. I’ll drive you.

Trembling, she asked, Is he okay?

I don’t know. The doctor will let us know when we get there. I replied, trying to calm my breathing as we drove in silence for the next twenty minutes.

What began as a beautiful sunny summer day turned into a nightmare. One I’ve been challenged to release from my mind these past few years. No one should ever be alone when they hear those gut-wrenching words, Your husband is dead. Having an opportunity to be with Jayne through her grief was not only a gift I gave to her, but it was also a gift I received from her. I learned so much about compassion during that time, and I surprised myself that I held my emotions together so well.

I stayed with her in the private hospital room until she stopped crying. Then I encouraged her to let the medical staff care for Dave and to let me take her home. She was reluctant at first, but when the funeral home attendants arrived, she agreed and left with me.

I spent the next week at her house with her, planning for out-of-state guests and her husband’s funeral. My heart shredded into a thousand pieces watching her move through her day traumatized and confused, required to wade through a quagmire of outdated rituals and social protocols dictated to us by a society failing to recognize death as part of our normal life cycle.

As quickly as the funeral arrived, it was gone, along with all the well-wishers, leaving Jayne alone to pick up her shattered life and remold it into something new. For the next several weeks, we talked on the phone a few times, but within a year, we fell out of touch, and I haven’t heard from her since.

Summer 2004

During the summer of 2004, after I lost my job, I lived in a slow-motion movie, practically standing still, going nowhere. With no promise of either employment or a committed relationship with Steve, I decided to concede, count my losses, and move back to New England. Four college guys from the local university agreed to rent my house until it sold. And much to my chagrin, I decided that when I returned to New England, I’d accept my dad’s offer and work as his office manager and accountant until I found a job somewhere else more to my liking.

Maybe I’d live in New England just long enough to fix up a house I had owned there since 1987, sell it, take the money and head down to New Orleans. Sit in the French Quarter and draft the great American novel. I somehow instinctively knew that when I closed one door in my life, another would soon open. And like in the song the The Changeling, by the Doors, I had money, then I had none but I never was so broke I couldn’t leave town, at least not just yet anyway.

Still, I wasn’t thrilled to concede defeat; move back to New England; live with my parents until I moved back into my house; and toil for my father, who, on a good day, was overbearing at best. I could only imagine