Not for the Feint of Heart

By Gwendellin Bradshaw

Not for the Feint of Heart is an autobiography written by Gwendellin Bradshaw. It is accompanied by an album titled Not for the Faint of Heart under her artist name Gwendellin Bee and is available at various online stores and streaming services. This book is also narrated with original compositions and can be found anywhere you find her music. <

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gwendellin Bradshaw
• Release date: Dec 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781088010464

Book preview

1

A Little Music

Music has always been there for me. I get warmth when I think about music. I started playing the violin when I was 10 years old with a borrowed instrument from elementary school. I could have started at five or sooner, the fire was in my belly. The violin is an instrument that opens my heart, eyes, and mind. When I play, my intense scar pain deafens, there is more focus, and my body moves more freely. During the surgeries, I pushed my body through the recovery and pain with music. Here is a little information about the discipline and training I received including a little about the challenges I face. I revisit the subject of music periodically throughout my memoir because music is a major part of my life.

2010-2017

One hour of straight playing, the scars on my back locked up and my head throbbed. My right hand turned white, then light blue. My hour could be lengthened if I switch to another instrument like piano or guitar after 15 minutes where my arms are below my heart, then I can go back to violin. I can play like this for four consecutive hours a day, 6 sometimes 7 days a week. I’ve been doing this practice regimen for 2.5 years. I'm taking a little break for seven weeks, between May and September this summer of 2017 to rejuvenate my body, reflect on my failures and successes, write this memoir, recover and purify after two and a half years of evasive surgeries, quit the prescription painkillers and antidepressants, manage the pain at a tolerable level with coffee and tea. I look forward to stopping THC and CBD when my body is ready.

In April 2016, my sound had what I've been shooting for. I was comfortable on all four strings, shifting, posture, and vibrato. My memory work paid off. Last Sunday, June 25th, 2017 I drove down the Seward Highway just past Beluga Point, Alaska, sat on the rocks with my violin and played three pieces by Bach with total comfort. I'm proud of my accomplishments so far. I hope new challenging opportunities will randomly enter my life, incentives keep me driven. I am happy with my students, studio, and my sound. It took a lot of will power to feel safe where I am at in my life so I can put my whole soul into my playing. Something always stopped me before. Even all the times I fearlessly came close to death, I still couldn't be open like I wanted to, I ran from vulnerability.

I think its because I had a lot of fear stored up inside of me and its a combination of factors. Dealing with my own traumas and the fears associated with them. Also, a dread for shaming, public humiliation, stalking, and bullying. I’ve been bullied by a small group of musicians in Anchorage since I graduated high school when I was 17. Music is my passion and I can’t imagine life without it. So I do not understand the hostility I receive from this group which is growing in numbers everyday. Associates will reassure me and say things like, It’s not about you, its all about them.. This was hard to believe since they have been stalking me since I was 17. I highly doubt they stalk people like this on a regular basis. I know its all about them and me. Guess I should be flattered, but I have seen musicians and artists steal my ideas and works without credit due. I recorded with bands and they always seemed to break up when we were on their verge of making it big. A band mate got someone pregnant. Blah, blah, blah. Another band mate is chasing the dragon and we cant find him. Blah, Blah, blah. It is all about ego in the moment and not about planning for the future and growth. That’s why I left the band scene and went on my own.

I am witnessing musicians get recognition and suddenly disappear when they find a girlfriend. I did this a lot too with boyfriends. I somehow get shame, jealousy, and guilt from my boyfriends if I played on stage or received positive attention. They became jealous and sabotaged my job as a musician, I wanted an ally. We would eventually break up, my creative gift can not be snuffed out by smothering love and affection or codependency. People focus too much on what others are doing in the moment instead of seeing the big picture and focusing on themselves. They are trapped in a prison of fear. I am not. I am however trapped in bad relationships, that I hope will fade. This is why I am single now. Tabloids, rumours, dirt talk shows, and internet can give us up to date information on people we obsess about in any moment, but this is feeding an addiction to drama. I choose to separate myself from media outlets that put individuals’ failures on display because they open their subjects to stalking, bullying, and harassment from their obsessors. I am socially off the grid, its a waste of my time to obsess about people and what they are doing every second of the day. I’ve been called an introvert for a long time by people, I know there is more to it than that. It’s about protection from abuse.

In 2014, I taught and played violin after a four year break. I needed the break to focus on my mental health issues stemming from bullying, PTSD, and drug and alcohol abuse. 2012, I entered rehab and graduated. Before rehab in 2010, I did not feel good from playing music, stressed about my father’s cancer and his hospital visits, so I stopped playing and fell into a bottle. What tipped me over? I lacked appropriate boundaries, healthy friendships, and allyship. Most allies in Alaska come with baggage I am not willing to burden, which cancels out the true definition of being an ally. I have found an ally. One. This was not enough to help me thrive in Alaska. I am grateful though that she wants to see me happy and thrive. I never received jealousy or sabotage from her. Only love and support.

I made it through college and performed my senior recital for a bachelor degree in Music Education in 2010. There were many people in attendance. Even my dad, who was diagnosed with 4th stage colon cancer in 2009. An associate, Vahla arranged an elegant spread of food, decorations, and love in the atrium with the help of her mother. Delicate silver trays in a tower with cookies and brownies, tables with white linens draped over them. Balloons and decorations showed my associates were there to celebrate my achievements. A college associate Terrance was there, my childhood role model Mandy, an adulthood role model Mark, a few people I didn't know, but I recognized them from my other recitals in the past at University of Alaska Anchorage. It was great to see familiar strangers there. This was a showing of support that felt kind and loving. They never needed a Hello., nothing. They just wanted to simply hear me play and be a part of the moment.

My private teacher, Mr. Parks wasn't there. A man I aspired and looked up to for improvement on my playing for 10 years. He was shorter than me by 12 inches, feathery black hair, handsome, and truly unique in character. I thought he would be there to give me a hug, congratulations, something, unfortunately it did not turn out that way. Probably because he didn't approve of me doing a senior recital. To complete the bachelor program in music education at UAA one needs to perform an approved 30 minute senior recital open to the public. To get to this final stage, it is required to perform recital repertoire to a group of three professors. I remember my stress level during this time. It probably showed through my behavior and shaky nerves, but I played through it. When it was done, I knew two of three professors approved my senior recital. The looks on their faces and my intuition said it all. The third, my private instructor sat stiff, elbow rested on a desk, hand over his mouth, with a cold stare. My intuition felt his disapproval. Since I needed two approvals out of the three, I knew I was good to go and thought to myself, Ha, so there..

Months leading up to the recital was surreal. a major catastrophic earthquake hit Chile where my private instructor’s family lived. He told all his private students, classroom students, and faculty he needed to go see them. He was gone for two months before my recital. While he was tending to his family in Chile, I practiced my repertoire for hours daily to make up for his absence. I recorded my playing and critiqued it like he would. I played in front of a full length mirror to check my facial expressions and posture. I felt capable and confident that I could teach myself the repertoire and have it ready to perform by my senior recital. When my private instructor came back from Chile, he changed inside. He seemed more reflective and tender, a welcome change. Strange to me he did not approve of my recital, but not.

He did not approve any senior recitals for 14 years at UAA! No violinist graduated between 1998 and 2012 at UAA except me. If you wanted to graduate as a violin major between 1998 and 2012, you had to be good at a few things. First and most important, know how to play your instrument. Second, practice in the practice rooms so others can hear you. This will come in handy when jealousy and slander starts up with someone. Rumors will get told, spread around, and shut down because it sounds like they are jealous, yes, people are actually jealous of me. Third, start memorizing your music right away. Don't wait until you have the hang of it. This will help you look and feel confident when you play. Fourth, know your professors personally. Create a bond with them. It's easy for me to do this since I'm used to people coming in and out of my life on a regular basis. If your professors like you, obviously it has its benefits.

Even though my private instructor did not approve of my recital, the other two professors on the panel supported me full heartedly. After my recital, I went out to a bar to celebrate with my associates that same evening. As I was at the bar and ordered my drink, a man approached and talked with me. He asked, You graduated, with a Masters? I said, No, a Bachelors degree.. His response, Oh, well I have a Masters. In a condescending tone. I was speechless and knew he was a jealous person. I bid him well and walked away. His comment was meant to be hurtful. He tried to reduce my achievements to nothing, no surprise from an alcoholic. I let myself be angry all that evening, appalled that someone would say such a mean thing to me after I worked my ass off for that degree. I avoided performing music in Anchorage, uninterested in micro aggression, slander, bullying, and jealousy for extremely little pay, instead I focused on furthering my education.

I focused on my next goal, to get my Masters in Teaching for Music Education K-12. I wanted to be a public school orchestra teacher. My full graduate level class load was a big eye opener to the world of petty jealousy and bullying. Decided to take a break from public school, college, and professors to get rid of dogmas, toxic memories, and brainwashing. I needed to deprogram myself. College was too noxious for me to continue past the second year of the masters program. Self discovery became my focus since 2012. I visit the idea of finishing my masters now and then to become a public school teacher, but the stove is too hot to touch. When the conditions are fertile to continue, I will. Otherwise there are greener pastures to discover, embrace, and experience. The more I learn and research, the less likely I will return. I have tried cutting myself off from reading books and watching all forms of media an attempt to dumb myself down. Yet, the experiences of life make me wiser. Unknowing is impossible.

I started playing violin in 5th grade at Denali Elementary School in Anchorage, Alaska. Denali Elementary had a diverse enrollment. Upper, middle, lower class and different shapes, colors, and sizes this made for a compassionate school that didn't focus on my handicaps by the third grade. I honestly forgot I had disabilities because all the children and teachers included me like I was normal in the third year. It took some adjustments not by me, but by the system. In kindergarten, the teachers separated me from the general classroom and put me in a class with other children with physical and cognitive handicaps. When my father found out he advocated for me to be taught in the general classroom. The first two years, I was monitored heavily by teachers and parents. If I messed up, I would have been removed so I did my best to hide in plain sight and never speak up. Even when the bullies came around, I fended for myself. The teachers took notice and did their best to protect me without making it look like protection so the other children and parents wouldn’t get jealous and bully me further.

When I started fifth grade, I was supremely excited to have a violin in my hands. I waited patiently my entire 4th grade year to play the violin. I tried to get my dad to rent me one from a shop down the street from us, but the rental price was too expensive for his meager income. Five of my classmates and I signed up for orchestra in the beginning of the 5th grade year. Tuesdays and Thursdays at 1:30 p. m., we picked up our violin and viola cases and walked down a long hallway to the music room. It didn't feel like the same music room I came to for general music class twice a week.

The piano was turned away from the window at a slant. Four stands and six chairs surrounded the piano. Off to the side of the room, six black violin and viola cases laid on the floor. A tall man with peppery hair and a beard told us to sit down. We were all girls, I wonder if it shocked him no boys wanted to play a stringed instrument that year. Two of us were chewing gum. Our orchestra teacher said, Spit out your gum. while holding a trash can in front of them. The two girls looked at each other puzzled by his assertive tone. His tone demanded respect and compliance. It earned mine for sure, the two girls not so much. They asked, What? Why?. I watched his face turn red and I knew something was going to happen. He said in a louder voice, not quite yelling Spit out your gum, now.. The girls did as they were told and spit their gum into the trash can. He walked away, put the trash can on the floor next to the upright piano and I saw the blood in his face slowly fade away. I knew he meant business.

There were hundreds of meaningful experiences I had in music playing. These memories jumped out and grab my attention. More will resurface as I continue. Some experiences require the proper stage to not alarm or shock, I must be tactful and gentle. Some happy, sad, infuriating, and down right disgusting. I am in no rush to dive into the muck. Bite size chunks of memory will do and hopefully for you too.

2

Faith

2017

There’s a patch of forest outside my apartment. It looked like it had landscaping many years ago and nature blanketed it over time with fallen debris, leaves, and pine needles making the ground highly acidic, too harsh for plants to grow unhindered. For a week before the solar eclipse, everyday I raked, cut old dead branches, and added rocks while it rained, with brief breaks in the clouds sharing golden warmth of the sun with birds and squirrels. I made a compost pile, added a bird feeder, and spray painted a tree stump gold. After I raked out the leaves and pine needles, I smelled pungent, sweet earth underneath and found patches of emerald green moss. Everyday I went to this patch of forest to groom the ground and trees, I saw it slowly come alive.

Little birds flew into this sanctuary, talking in their cute languages. At times, I would catch bigger birds bullying littler birds for space on a branch close to me. I only had to say it once, Don’t bully each other., and they complied. No more fighting. I checked the seeds in the bird feeder and saw a pile of seeds on the ground, they made a mess and I broomed it up. I told the birds, Don't waste this food.. I only had to say it once and they have kept the area clean ever since. I manicured this land till I felt it was complete. By the last day of grooming I saw patches of moss turn a brighter green, rose bushes standing taller, birds playing and foraging. People who saw it while walking or biking smiled and greeted me. Neighbors I thought were okay people turned jealous or tried very hard to distract me from my work. The negative Nancies had something in common, women. People who looked healthy, were nice to me, people who were not healthy, were not nice. I do not want to avoid those women, but if they are determined to bring my spirit down, I will need to some how. I’m tired of coddling a person’s pride or ego. I broke the chains from this burden by completing my sanctuary. I did this out of love for nature and to keep my body moving throughout my recovery and pain.

On the eve of the eclipse, the little birds thanked me by crashing into my window at high speeds. I felt bad for them. So I cut a red rag, soaked in hot water, and added lavender, rose, and tea tree oils. Calming and cleansing. Put the rag on an old branch cutting in the middle of the sanctuary. After a few minutes, the birds were at peace. They were calm and quiet. So I made one for me. It took my headache, throat pain, scar pain and mind away. I am blessed with the spirit of understanding. Crossing borders, species, and fears. I am loved by my Higher Power.

3

Community

2017

Just got home from helping my friend, Pete at a marajuana shop tonight by hanging his merchandise on clothes racks. T-shirts, sweatshirts, tank tops in all colors and sizes with creative tie dye patterns and his logo on them for consignment with the owner of the marajuana shop. My friend has a printmaking shop that advocates for legal marajuana use. While there, he sold a shirt to another man who was displaying his consignment merchandise - black and white cups that showed an image when hot liquid is poured in them. This man was so friendly, non competitive, embracing what this universe has to offer. His demeanor was of royalty in heart and spirit. Smiling and gentle he shook my hand and introduced himself as Abidan. He told me he moved to Alaska from Israel recently, thanked me for the love he felt from my presence. He put his blue tie dye shirt on with pride, without judgement and fear. Abidan smiled and wrapped his arms around his torso and said, I feel love in this shirt. I responded, They are homemade with love.

Pete had surgery for his back three weeks ago and I saw him while I stopped in the store for a spice grinder. I called him an hour before I went to the store to see if I could buy one from him personally. I've been getting panic attacks when I go in public places. I often wonder if I'm paranoid and hyper vigilant and is this an appropriate reaction to my environment. Since 2016, I've been getting bullied, harassed, and stalked. Is it a coincidence or a combination of societal elements in play? I feel an Evil Eye following me around everywhere I go. Even in my home, I feel it's presence. I can't tell if it's an infection of my spirit or a cancer that's spreading among us. It is an uncomfortable feeling and it concerns me. I am writing about this to try to process this thing.

The Roma Gypsies call this evil entity, Jakhalo. In Mexico they call it Mal Ojo. In America, Evil Eye. It's a malificent stare of another’s property or body. I've been getting the Evil Eye everywhere I go - a church, a neighborhood grocery store, the building where I have my studio, coffee shops, all public places outside the confines of my home and studio, I don't feel safe anymore. If it's not a stare, people accidentally walk into me or step backwards right when I'm walking by, not saying sorry and pretending I'm not there. I've been yelled at from people and blocked from entering the building’s parking lot where I have my studio with their cars. I wait till they are done with their temper tantrums and they move their cars so I can find a parking spot. It's behaviors like this that gave me panic attacks when I left my home or studio. I was targeted by groups here which fall into a certain way of thinking. At first, I gave it a blanket label as evil. My ex boyfriend and best friend gave me some insight a couple of months ago. As one of my Christian confidants, he reminded me of compassion by saying, people aren't evil, they do evil things.. After he said this, it started yet another transformation of my thought process. Lots of transformations happened in 2017, especially after almost a year off of alcohol and three years since I handed all my sins, shame and guilt to my Higher Power. Higher Power, music, therapy, surgeries, and my own physical therapy played a big part in my transformation this year.

I started to see humans again, not zombies. It destroyed my peace every night thinking of ways to make them happy. How can I make everyone happy? I tried wearing pretty dresses to my studio, to grocery stores, and church. That didn't work, so I tried dying my hair blonde for two months, so I could look more pale skinned. The evil eye grew meaner, so I decided to dye my hair blue green. Give them something worth staring at, right? It made my anxiety worse. It gave them an excuse to stare at me more. A month of these social experiments, I went back to my natural hair color and bohemian look. I had a surgery in April 2017 and wanted low maintenance self care and to be my genuine self. Back to my roots, letting my hair decide it's look for the day, picking out clothes that don't necessarily match, bohemian scarves and jewelry. My fashion choice makes me feel beautiful and genuine. After I got back from surgery, the stares became more angry and hostile. Just the opposite of what I needed, but exactly what I was prepared for. I'm not giving in to the manipulation, intimidation, and scare tactics. It's ridiculous and poor role modeling of love and the human spirit. It's the choice they’ve made and it is not my burden to change their thinking. It's my Higher Power’s burden, not mine.

7/2/17

I stopped off at a drive up coffee hut for an americano before I headed to the studio to rehearse with Shriva, a woman from church. Donna, a colleague and voice instructor at the studio, asked Shriva and I to substitute for her as leaders of music for her church. Donna needed a break to give birth to her third son and be with him. I always thought births came unexpectedly, not with Donna. She had given birth to two boys prior and knew time was near. I pulled up to the window and bought my regular drink, an americano. The barista was a young and slender woman, my favorite person I barely knew to be completely open with. If she asked how my day was, I felt like I could be honest with her and she did not judge what I said. Today, she asked how my surgery went. I told her about my recovery and how I had only one more surgery left. My body was anxious and shook as I saw another teacher from the building drive by who has triggered my ptsd intentionally and by accident on numerous occasions outside my studio and in public. As I explained the process of recovery to the barista, my frustration built and I came clean about being bullied in the building where I rented the studio space which is right across the street from the coffee hut. After I told her what happened, she seemed to know exactly what I was going through. Her compassionate response brought tears to my eyes. She gave me my drink and told me, Meet me out back so I can give you a hug.. I said, I need one. and drove around to the back. As she came out of her door, I got out of my car, our arms extended towards each other for a warm embrace. We held each other tightly, she said meaningful words and ideas on how to win over the hate.

4

Associates

6/30/17

Ollie invited me over for a cookout at his place tonight. We met on a dating website in 2014 and he is from Russia. A handsome adventurous man who likes to travel, meet new people from different walks of life, partake in his vodka, and enjoys the company of artists and musicians. The summer of 2017 he travelled to Homer to work on a boat as a fisherman. Did I mention he was handsome? It's not just his good looks, it's his strong and colorful personality that made him a beautiful man.

I drove to his house and saw a fire burning in his yard with lawn chairs set up. The overcast made for a darker evening, the sun casted colorful hues of rose, orange, and violet . Ollie welcomed me with open arms and we embraced. It was nice to be normal. Ollie invited his other friends to the cookout. There was English, Russian, and Spanish languages spoken, sometimes three languages were spoken at the same time. Ollie’s friend brought his accordion, I brought my violin and we played old Russian folk songs together. It was nice because no other females were there. No cattiness, possessiveness, or jealousy. Uggggg, finally. Haha! Just the guys and I talking about meaningful shit. I didn't drink. They had vodka and wine. I brought three joints to share and we smoked through two of them. These guys were spiritual, handsome, and free. My dream guys all in one place?! So many handsome men, and yet I'm still hooked on Ollie. It was nice to be around men who knew how to treat a woman with respect and equality. I didn't feel shut down or put down. I felt loved and appreciated.

7/01/17

At 2 p. m. this afternoon, my studio neighbor Donna came over to my apartment with her husband Matt and their two boys for a BBQ. This was my first party in 5 years. I’ve avoided parties for years. Since I was the host and I don't drink or abuse drugs, this small gathering was about quality friendships, grilled burgers, and good vibes. Donna was Alaska born and we met in college while perusing music degrees. She was a voice teacher where I rented a studio space and a music director for a church which embraces diversity of every culture. Donna was only two weeks from giving birth to a baby boy. I prepared for the event of a pregnancy by texting my best friend Vahla questions on what I should expect. It wasn't a fear, it was more like an awareness that I had no clue. Vahla got me