Thursday, August 2, 2012

Thursday, August 2, 2012 

Looking back over my journals, it seems I haven't written much since 2007. I did have a blog from 2005 -- 2010, but it wasn't the same.

So, for whatever reason, it hit me today (August 2, 2012), to start journaling again. A lot has changed... Actually, everything has changed since I quit writing. 

Since February 2007 (the last journal entry I can find), my son has stopped speaking to me, I left my husband, and started a life coaching practice. There's a whole lot of crap in between all that, but those are the things that stand out. The one thing that I am most thankful for is my relationship with my daughter.

-- Sweet Pea, you are so precious to me! --

The day the divorce was final, I also signed the closing papers on my house. Confident Cottage. That was in March 2011. The first of this year, I became a certified life coach and started Confident Life Coaching.

Maybe I felt I should start journaling again because things are so much better now. I feel as though I finally have the life I want.

In October I'll be 50 -- I feel as though I have my whole life ahead of me. There's things I want to do and, of course, places I want to go. And I hope to reconcile with my son.

 Anyway, I hope to write about it all.

forget blue mondays

First, let me say this post is probably going to be all over the place. I'm having a particularly bad day. For instance, as I was just about to leave the house this morning I spilled coffee all over me, had to completely change clothes, and was almost late for an appointment with the surgeon. (Just a follow-up and, yes, everything is fine. Also, I'm still working on the post about all that.) So forgive me if I'm not my usual "jolly" self.

For the past month or so I've been trying to take note of when I feel the darkness creeping up on me. And I discovered Thursdays are bad days for me. What's up with that? And this week I thought I was doing very well. I've been in fairly good spirits all week and then this morning it sneaked up on me.

Ok, that's not completely true. I was aware there could be a possibility of a meltdown, because it's Jeremy's birthday and ... Well, I don't want to get into that right now. But, anyway, I thought I was going to be ok with it, but not so much.

It surprised me a little, though, because my "creative juices" have really been flowing. Over the past four days I've written a few poems and started working on some ideas for about three books I want to write. Really. Three. Books. One of which I'll be writing with Brandi. (We are extremely excited about that!!)

When I woke up this morning, I was caught a little off guard when I felt those creepy crawly fingers tapping me on the shoulder. I was expecting to have the strength to tell the thing to just shut the hell up and leave me alone. But I didn't. I don't.

At this moment there is only one gleaming bit of sunshine ... I will hold on ... It is enough.

inspiration

I'm inspired to write today. About what, I'm not sure. It may merely be a distraction from the essay I need to write about how the U.S. elects a president. It may be a caffeine high from too much coffee this morning and too little food. It may even be from a late night chat I had with a friend I reconnected with on Facebook. Regardless, I want to write.

Obviously, the last several posts may have seemed to be filler (phyller?), but I can assure you they were not. The past month I haven't been able to focus and the things that have filled my mind, screaming to be released, have not made their way out in the forms of my own words. The songs, the poems, the philosophies of others have come to my rescue as I've wandered around in my own brain searching for a complete thought.

Yesterday I analyzed all I've been feeling lately, all the emotions that I've experienced on the roller coaster ride that is my life at the moment. This is what I came up with (in no particular order): anxiety, fear, betrayal, confusion, dismay, hopelessness, anger, despair, disgust, loneliness, surprise, happiness, elation, patience, excitement, satisfaction, love.

Now, thinking about all of that, there's a lump in my throat. Does that ever happen to you? You know, that tight choking feeling you get in your throat because of some strong emotion. I've felt it at other times in my life, but it started happening more frequently after Mom died. Now it's back again with a vengeance! A daily occurrence -- a sorrow that wells up in my throat to the point that I'm not sure I can breathe. But I do. Breathe. Deep. And the lump begins to melt, though not completely.

If you've been reading my blog for any time at all, you must have already seen the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the manic and the depressed states that I live in at any given moment. I almost feel obligated to apologize for it, but I won't -- this is who I am. I'd like to hope that someday I will find that middle ground, that place of peace and contentment that rests between two palm trees in a hammock on a beach. But just remember, if you come here and read some silly idiotic little post I've written, know I'm having a good day. And when there is a post which seems to be quite cryptic, say a little prayer for me, because I'm probably lost somewhere in my mind trying to find a way out.

i believe

Over the past few months I've thought a lot about my life, what I've learned, and where I'm headed. I've wanted to write about it, but for some reason I just couldn't find the words to express all I have been feeling. Then I found the following post on a friends' page (Thanks Betsy!).

I Believe...
That just because two people argue
doesn't mean they don't love each other.
And just because they don't argue
doesn't mean they do love each other.

I Believe...
That we don't have to change friends
if we understand that friends change.

I Believe....
That no matter how good a friend is,
they're going to hurt you
every once in a while and
you must forgive them for that.

I Believe...
That true friendship continues to grow,
even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love.

I Believe...
That you can do something in an instant
that will give you heartache for life.

I Believe....
That it's taken me a long time
to become the person I want to be.

I Believe...
That you should always leave loved ones with loving words.
It may be the last time you see them.

I Believe....
That you can keep going long after you think you can't.

I Believe....
That we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I Believe...
That either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I Believe...
That heroes are the people who do what has to be done,
when it needs to be done,
regardless of the consequences.

I Believe....
That money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I Believe....
That my best friend and I can do anything
or nothing and have the best time.

I Believe....
That sometimes the people you expect
to kick you when you're down
will be the ones to help you get back up.

I Believe...
That sometimes when I'm angry, I have the right to be angry,
But that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I Believe....
That maturity has more to do with
what types of experiences you've had,
and what you've learned from them,
and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

I Believe....
That it isn't always enough, to be forgiven by others.
Sometimes, you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I Believe...
That no matter how bad your heart is broken
the world doesn't stop for your grief.

I Believe.....
That our background and circumstances
may have influenced who we are,
but we are responsible for who we become.

I Believe...
That you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret.
It could change your life forever.

I Believe....
Two people can look at the exact same thing
and see something totally different.

I Believe...
That your life can be changed in a matter of hours
by people who don't even know you.

I Believe...
That even when you think you have no more to give,
when a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.

I Believe...
That credentials on the wall
do not make you a decent human being.

I Believe...
That the people you care about most in life
are taken from you too soon.

I Believe...
The happiest of people don't necessarily
have the best of everything --
they just make the most of everything they have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you can't be content with what you have received,
be thankful for what you have escaped.
-- Author Unknown

chapter closed, part two

On the third day of her hospital stay, we finally insisted my Mom have an MRI. She had gotten some of her memory back, but she was far from her normal self. The MRI showed a mass on her brain. A few weeks later she had surgery to remove a tumor.

Over the next few months, Mom underwent chemo and radiation treatments. She gained weight, lost her hair, and all energy. She got sick with some kind of bug that was going around and never seemed to get over it. I tried to encourage her to get up and walk around, that she couldn't get the congestion out of her chest if she just laid around all day. But because of the treatments she just didn't have the energy. By March she was barely able to get off the couch.

She was back in the hospital again, this time here in town. It was a Monday. I went up to see her that day and she was having lunch. She was so weak she couldn't bring the fork to her mouth, so I fed her.

Mom looked exhausted, worn out, but mostly she was worried. She commented on what her husband was going to do if she died. She was concerned about his health and didn't know if he could take care of himself. I said, "Mom, you've trusted God for everything in your life! You have to trust Him in this too." That was the last real conversation I had with my Mom.

By Wednesday night she was unable to speak at all. All her children and some of her family came to see her and we were having a prayer meeting right there around her hospital bed. There was about 15 of us crammed in that little room. We prayed and sang hymns.

I was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her hand and singing to her, when suddenly Mom raised up, looked me in the eye, and very sternly said, "I have to go!!" I tried to calm her down and told her she needed to lie down. She fought to remove the oxygen mask, but I made her keep it on. She was so mad, "I have to go now!!" They said it was just the morphine, but I wasn't so sure. I felt her spirit was struggling with her physical body.

The next morning, my step-dad allowed them to take her off the oxygen. He decided that the next time she tried to remove the mask, he wouldn't stop her. When she woke up the next time, she immediately reached for the mask. Noticing no one was going to prevent her from doing so, she took off the mask and threw it across the room.

RL and I were going to meet at the hospital at lunch time. But around 11:00 he called me to tell me they had taken her off the oxygen and I'd better get over there. At some point, she woke up, sat up in bed, and looked towards the end of the bed at no one. My Aunt said she had a look on her face as though someone was there that she suddenly recognized.

I arrived about 11:30. When I walked into her room at the hospital, RL was standing on the other side of her bed, next to my step-dad and my Mom's younger sister. On the left side of the bed sat my two older brothers. I went over to her and took her hand. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. We all just watched as she would inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Within about 20 minutes she stopped breathing. I leaned over, kissed her cheek. "Good-bye, Momma."

That was six years ago today. I think this is the first time I've been able to think through the whole ordeal without completely breaking down. My Mom and I were close, though we had our problems too. But in those last months of her life, when she lost her memory and much of the side of her personality that always clashed with mine, I was able to see her in a completely different light. I was able to let go of all the things I had held against her for so many years. I was able to forgive her and to love her and then she was gone.

chapter closed, part one

I wrote a while back about how my Mom lost her memory. Today I've decided to share with you all the closing chapter.

One day, in October of 2001, my Mom was fine (for her, anyway) and then the next, my step-dad was taking her to the ER. She suddenly didn't know who he was. Actually, she knew she was married to him, but had no idea what his name was. For that matter, she couldn't even think of her own name.

I was at work when I received the call (I think it was my aunt) that Mom was in the hospital and that she had lost her memory, that they suspected she had a stroke. At the time they lived about an hour away, so I immediately called RL and told him what had happened, that I was on my way to see my Mom, and I didn't know when I'd be back.

When I got to the hospital, the nurses braced me for what might happen when I went in to see my Mom. They told me she had lost her memory and probably wouldn't know who I was. They told me to not let her get upset and just visit a little with her. I walked in the room and Mom sat up in the bed excited to see me; she knew me instantly and I wondered what all the fuss had been about. But soon I realized it was just as bad as they had said.

As we talked, Mom tried to explain what had happened, but couldn't think of words or names and soon shrugged and said, "I don't know how to say that." Then she decided it might be better to talk about what she did know. She knew her name was, "J . . . J . . . " she traced the letter J in the palm of her hand, " . . . J . . . Jesus. No, that's not it . . ." More tracing, then, "Judy!" She finally got it.

"And you're Phyllis," she said and I nodded. "And I have other children too . . ." She began to trace letters in the palm of her hand, again, and went through the names of my brothers. But she skipped one. I held back the tears, because she completely skipped naming my brother who had died when he was 16. But I didn't say anything, because I didn't want to upset her.

She looked up at me, with eyes that were so sincere, searching, and said, "But I have another child, too, don't I?" I nodded, the tears streaming freely now. "But he's not with us anymore." I told her he wasn't, but didn't say anything else. It seemed that she didn't really understand what that exactly meant, but didn't ask for explanation and I didn't offer.

Then she had to go to the bathroom. Afterwards, she came out to the sink in the room and began to wash her hands. She asked, "And what is this called?" I said,"You mean the sink?" She said, "No, what I'm doing. What is this called?" It amazed me that she knew to wash her hands after using the restroom, but she had know idea what the task was called.

She settled back into the hospital bed and we began to talk again about things she could remember. A lot of those things, though, took a little time to shake loose from her brain to her mouth. Then she said, "And I know how to . . . how to . . . how to . . ." Then she began to pray in a heavenly language that I had heard from her lips many, many times. There was no stuttering or stammering, she was fluent in her spiritual language. "I know how to do that!"

I said, "It's 'praying in the Spirit.'" She looked at me as though I had said something she had never heard of before. She tried, but couldn't even repeat the word prayer. Finally, she just shrugged it off. "Oh well! I don't know." Very calmly, almost laughing at herself. This was so unlike her. She had always been so critical of herself, so impatient, so easily frustrated. But now she was completely the opposite. My heart felt so much compassion for her, for probably the first time in my entire life.

As we talked, she suddenly forgot what she was saying. I tried to refresh her memory by reminding her of her last words, but she had no clue of what she had even been talking about. She threw up her hands, laughing, "I don't know. But I know Jesus. Jesus knows me. That's all that matters!"

Continued

desserts*

Here's a little post to let everyone know I've snapped out of it. It amazes me how I manage to get through the bouts I have with grief and depression. This week's episode was conquered (to a certain extent) by learning how to use a new software program my husband bought me for Christmas. It seems the more challenging, tedious, and time-consuming a task is, the more it releases just the right amount of chemicals in my brain to bring relief.

The software? Oh, it is Adobe Photoshop Elements 6 and I have been having a blast going through and editing our vacation pictures. Here are a couple of samples:

Ok, so before I start sounding too geeky and going on and on about how much fun I've been having, spending hours on the computer editing photos and creating hundreds (not an exaggeration) of layouts, I have to go pick up my prints.

*The mirror image of stressed.

grieving christmas

It doesn't feel like Christmas. There isn't the joy and the anticipation. No warm fuzzies. Just a cloud overshadowing the whole thing, threatening to burst a cold and icy rain. Maybe I want it too much, maybe I'm trying too hard, but the more I want to feel Christmas, the more it slips away.

There are a number of reasons for this, but mostly a sense of loss. Grief is a sneeky thing. It comes on strong, quietly slips away, and then pounces when you least expect it. And I know that it does not like to be ignored. It is persistent. It hovers, stands over your shoulder, pulls at your sleeve until it is acknowledged and given the attention it needs.

So while everyone is opening their gifts and greeting all with a 'Merry Christmas,' I will smile and play along, but in my mind I will be tending a broken heart.

comforting others

People keep coming into my life or I'm drawn to people who are experiencing grief. And I found myself, again, asking why. Immediately this verse popped into my head and I remembered this is my purpose; at least one of them anyway.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)

I'd like to write more on this subject, but at the moment my thoughts are a jumble. So I will just leave this here as something to ponder.

the saddest thing

This morning I drove past a goose that had been hit by a car. If that wasn't bad enough its mate was standing on the sidewalk, looking out into the street at its deceased. He looked as though he was waiting for her to come back. About thirty minutes later, though, I drove by again, and he had given up waiting.