Bethany Brewer

bethany8Like all Warrior Princesses, Bethany came from humble beginnings. Growing up, she had little supervision, which allowed her to roam free, picking up habits hardly recommended for a child. As a teenager, she delved into a world of drug and alcohol abuse. On the outside, she was a swaggering party girl. On the inside, her soul was dying.

***

bethany7By the time she was a freshman in high school, she was plagued by a sense that she didn’t fit into this life. She left home, lived with a revolving door of friends, and only went to school a couple of hours a day. In her sophomore year, she transferred to Mendocino, hoping to do better.

She continued to fail.

“Teachers tried, but nobody knew what to do with me. By my senior year, I was told I wasn’t going to graduate unless I hustled. I went to Noyo High from eight to noon, took a journalism class at Fort Bragg High in the afternoon, and went to the adult school at night. I was able to graduate with my age group in 1998.”

bethany9Bethany immediately moved to Medford, Oregon to care for her ailing father and grandparents. “My dad died in October, my grandpa three weeks later, and my grandma in February. They were the last of my family on that side.” Those losses were devastating. She dealt with her grief in the only way she knew—using her inheritance to douse her feelings with alcohol, drugs and cavort with people who mooched off her.

Broke by 21, she returned to Fort Bragg and worked at Laurel Deli. By 24, she was married and moved to Yuma, Arizona. “I was a bartender at an Indian Casino and loved it. I learned how to stand up for and defend myself.” The marriage was tumultuous and broke up after four years. “I lived alone for the first time in my life. I really liked being independent and having responsibilities.”

bethany6In 2010, she learned her maternal grandmother had dementia. Bethany moved back to Fort Bragg to help care for her, and worked again at Laurel Deli. “I continued to party and be irresponsible. I eventually left Grandma’s house and isolated myself from my family. At one point, I lived in my truck for three months. I felt like I had a big hole”—she makes a circle with the fingers of both hands and places it over her heart—“that I tried to fill up with drugs, alcohol, and violence.”

Bethany’s mother had moved to Willits and encouraged her to live with her. “On November 3, 2012, I started detoxing on her couch. I was really sick, but managed to go to a twelve-step meeting every day. Everything seemed less, less, less. Little did I know my life would change to more, more, more.”

bethany5Two weeks later, her friend Amie McGee encouraged her to apply for work at the Mendocino Sports Club. Bethany didn’t feel strong enough to hold a job, and was relieved when it took a month before she was invited for an interview. In January 2013, she moved back to Fort Bragg and started working at the club. A trainer approached her and said, “There’s an athlete inside you and if you want to see her, I’ll train you.”

She worked out with him six days a week for six months. The gym owner gave her a personal trainer’s manual and encouraged her to study for the certification exam. On November 2, 2013, she passed the test.

The Warrior Princess was born.bethany1

Two and a half years later, her business has grown from five clients to 140. She continues to study and receive certifications. “I love the process of learning.”

***

Bethany spends a few hours a week at Noyo High School “just chillin’” with the kids. “By the time kids get to Noyo, a lot of people have given up on them. I want them to know they can be there and be someone of worth.” She shares the story of her stormy teenage years, her recovery, and hands out gym passes. It was through this outreach that she met a teenager who would have a major impact on her life.

“She called one night [in February 2015] to say she’d been locked out of her house. I let her spend the night on my sofa. Before I knew it, I had bunkbeds with Ninja Turtle sheets in my spare bedroom. I became the mother of a 15-year old kid.” The girl had quietly struggled with her gender identity most of her life. “I know what’s it’s like to feel alone,” Bethany said. “When she told me she wanted to dress like a boy, I took her to a thrift shop and bought her clothes.”

kellenWith the support of Bethany, the staff at Noyo, and a tribe of fairy Godmothers, the girl continued her journey, embracing her male identity. Her grades improved and in the fall of 2015, she enrolled in Fort Bragg High. By this time, the girly clothes had been discarded and a masculine name chosen. Life was not without its challenges (imagine being a transgender teen in a small town) but he thrived academically and socially.

It was difficult for Bethany to be an instant mother and tough for the kid to refrain from being a mildly rebellious teen. In January 2016, he moved in with his girlfriend’s family. He and Bethany maintain a close, heartwarming bond.

***

Bethany2The hole that once scarred Bethany’s soul has healed. “I’m so lucky to wake up every morning and spend the day doing what I love. My goal is to help people realize their strength. It’s payback for all that’s been given to me.”

Bethany’s most recent project is training people to participate in Spartan Races. Some, like me, start out believing we aren’t capable of such physical demands. Over time, the Warrior Princess shakes that doubt out, turning it around until, before we know it, we’re crossing the finish line and accepting medals.

Thank you, Warrior Princess for your willingness to grab hold of life, seek challenges and share your experiences. The lives you touch are forever changed for the better.bethany4bethany11

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No Complaints

bethany

Bethany the Fierce

As my trainer Bethany puts me through exercise paces at the gym, we chat about one of my favorite hobbies—complaining. For the past several months, she has made a conscious effort to avoid the activity. “Do you know how hard it is to not complain?” she asks. I can’t imagine. Like parasailing, hang gliding, and scrapbooking, I’ve never tried it.

I take this as a challenge and declare that if I can go the rest of the afternoon without complaining, I’ll reward myself with nachos from Los Gallitos (with extra guacamole). It’s two-thirty. If I eat dinner early, I’ll only have a few hours to endure.

When I get home and click the garage door opener, the door stays closed. For several months, the door has mocked me in this way—just haphazard enough to keep me from calling someone to repair it. “Son of a—“ I suddenly remember my vow. I force a smile, make a conscious effort to not grumble, and park the car outside.

I enter the house to find my husband Gary, who’s been presenting flu-like symptoms all morning, in his recliner. He asks if I’ll go to The Purity to get him Lipton’s Chicken Noodle Soup and some juice.

A whine starts in my brain and threatens to erupt into foot stomping. (Just so you don’t think I’m heartless, this would be my second trip to the store for him today.) My tantrum is quickly squelched by the memory of my pledge. I like going to The Purity. And I won’t have to mess with the garage door opener because the car is parked outside. I happily go to the store.

cat(7)The afternoon progresses swimmingly until the cat Little Mister appears, screeching at my office door.

Oh no. I’d forgotten about the demanding cat.

I think of Jesus and how He maintained serenity despite His many trials and tribulations. (Note to self: ask a theologian if there’s mention of a fat gray cat in the New Testament.)

During the past several weeks of our dog Lucy’s recovery from knee surgery, Little Mister has been sorely neglected. Instead of my usual annoyance (I have work to do!), I muster compassion and pet him as he rumples the paperwork on my desk. When he tries to climb onto the computer keyboard, instead of yelling, I gently pick him up and spend a solid five minutes settling him on the rug.

By this time, it’s three-thirty and I’m feeling quite pure of heart. I wonder if four o’clock is too early to eat dinner, but remember that’s the time for Lucy’s second rehab walk of the day.

CGCAfter countless obedience classes, Lucy and I are pretty adept at our walks. However, her limited outside time during her weeks of recovery makes each walk a challenge. The resident blue jay taunts her, the kitten who has taken over the field in the back needs to be chased, the cat poop buried under bushes must sniffed out and eaten.

She’s very strong and singularly focused when she wants her way. Given the fragility of her knee, I have to be careful not to pull on her. I must be ever vigilant to avoid distractions and coax her with treats. A twenty-minute walk is exhausting. (Or I should say was exhausting until I stopped the habit of complaining.)

I take deep breaths and determine this will be the best walk ever. I evade the bird, kitten, and cat poop pitfalls while carrying on a stream of light chatter—telling her she’s the best girl, so smart and wonderful. We pass a guy sitting in his truck. I say hello and he offers the kind of wary smile one gives a crazy person.

At four-thirty, I receive a text from the house sitter that she’s not available over Mother’s Day weekend. It will be the first Mother’s Day in three years I won’t spend with my kids in San Francisco. Part of me wants to cry and thrash about, but the new well-honed saintly part suggests I’ll find another way to celebrate Mother’s Day.

By five o’clock, I’m on the phone with Los Gallitos. At five-thirty, I’m sitting in front of Judge Judy scarfing down nachos. By six I’m stuffed with a feeling of wellbeing—a combination of yummy food and a successful three and a half hours of avoiding the traps of self-pity and martyrdom.

I must admit this was an enjoyable afternoon. I’m thankful to Bethany for bringing enlightenment. I might even try this non-complaining thing—and definitely those nachos—again soon.angel