The Beta Fish Took Three Days to Die

My eldest daughter has adopted four successive beta fish in the last years when she was at college. They kept her company and she enjoyed seeing them as she worked at her desk.   (I remember that I started with gold fish my freshman year in college and worked up to a cat by graduate school.)  This last fish who resided on our kitchen counter did me in emotionally as Riley has been home since her graduation.  Towards the weekend,  he stopped eating and laid on the bottom and seemed to be actively dying. Even now my stomach tenses. 

Every death, even of a beta fish, is a microcosm of other grief and death. 

She named them after royalty of course - starting with Louis I.   We realized during Louis III, that traveling from Birmingham to Baton Rouge for school breaks in a venti Starbucks cup might not be good on their system so we made changes.  Due to my husband's efforts, one of them ended up with a heater for their tank and we stopped turning the light on because the tank turned green due to too much light.  We joked about the now grand summer house here in BR. 

Beautiful little blue Louis started looking peaked several days ago. And then he stopped swimming and lay on the bottom. One day rolled into two and he just kept breathing.  The other betas expired more quickly from what I remember and/or they were in Birmingham.  And a few short years ago I had my own Beta that lived for several years. 

The doctor, my husband, announced he was deceased on the first day.  But when I looked I still saw movement.  He didn't actually pass until three days later.  Doctors!

For three days, I had to stop and stare for a good amount of time and see that his little gills were still moving. Louis IV wasn't giving up without a fight. At several points in time, Riley and I talked to him and told him it was okay, he could let go. 

I then had a divine idea, and I pulled out the remains of our other pets.  Pookie (OG cat),  Princess and Morgan (sister cats) and Annie (our first dog)  I surrounded the aquarium with their little wooden boxes.  As Riley pointed out, these were his aunts and uncles.  I wanted Louis IV to know our past beloveds were welcoming him into the great unknown.

I don't know if it brought Louis IV comfort, but it really brought me comfort to surround him. Daughter #2 thought it was a little off,  I thought it was a beautiful gesture.  There was also talk of a Viking burial at sea...

Every time I checked on him, I had these small waves of grief.  They didn't last long but they brought tears to my eyes. I haven't been crying lately at all after a long period of lots of grief. As I said, all present grief brings up past grief.  Most of my grief is around abandonment. I didn't want to abandon Louis.  That is why surrounding him with our previous loved ones brought me such peace. I couldn't stay with him as his breathing slowed. I thought it was brutiful.  He was a tiny little living thing but he was alive. 

One really had to stare and not blink for a while because the movement was so faint as time went on but he was still alive. He moved twice during this time.  The last time, he was partially inside his castle which we thought was a sign, and on the third night, his gills finally stopped moving. 

It was time, he had passed. 

We waited until the next morning to say goodbye.  Riley caught him in a net and the four of us gathered around her bathroom toilet and she plopped him in. The three others said a quick word and then I started my message.  The really neat thing these last years, is learning how to express myself.  Ha ha.  Riley wasn't up for it (!)  and flushed the toilet before I finished.  

Oh well. 

The deed was done.  But I know Louis knew I cared for him and I wished peace on his little soul.  He knew. 

Namaste.

It's Quiet In The House

 We lost 2 beloved pets within two weeks.  A rescue kitty whom had graced us with her presence for fourteen years and whom my younger daughter had come to adore in the last two years.   Eleven days later, we had to put our rescue Beagle of ten years down. 

The ends of their lives were not pretty.  For months I wanted to write about aging pets but never did. The way they were slowing down bit by bit and the circle of life.  It is hard to make the decisions when the time come.  This was my third cat and first dog.  Making the decision on the second cat five years ago was brutal, it brought up past grief as all loss does. I can picture the scene exactly and how emotionally draining it was to have to choose to snuff this life out.  My veterinarian was fabulous and took time to go through the whole process and talk quality of life.  He was kind, gentle and informative.  I talked to a lifelong friend who also worked with animals.  And then I had to do the deed. 

This time with more experience, decisions came more easily but still wrought with emotion.  Princess had stopped eating as her kidneys were shutting down and she had lost nearly half of her body weight.  Annie's cough had increased in frequency and duration.  It was a death knell and excruciating to hear.

My younger daughter came with me to the vet's office both times for the euthanizations. My husband had Covid the second time for our beagle and couldn't come.  We stayed for the sedation shot in the same room both times and it was a peaceful process with Princess.  Annie, as she relaxed began the horrible loud breathing noise that had recently begun as her lungs were congested with fluid.  Annie helped me to know, this too was the right time for her.

In the vets room, we cried and we told them our goodbyes.  I verbalized how much they meant to me, and laughed about the funny stuff.  Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion via Dolly Parton through Truvy in Steel Magnolias. 

I did know that it was time to let them both go. 

This is the first loss that my youngest daughter remembers and she is grieving.  We Facetimed with our college daughter to keep her in the loop as we made decisions.  She was able to say goodbye through video.  The family cohesiveness was reassuring.

A new normal has begun.  The house is especially quiet.  No more coughing, loud breathing, throwing up or pooping in the wrong places. No more running to make sure Annie goes outside as soon as she gets out the bed and staying on top of when she needed to go out again. We are putting away the many sets of stairs we had for Annie to access our couches as well as the food bowl and leash.  We are all adjusting. Brinkley, the mixed breed dog is adjusting.  He is a very emotional dog and loves George and as he was home with Covid, I think it helped Brinkley adjust to being the solo dog for the first few days. 

On Friday, when George went back to work, I walked without Annie for the first time in ten years.   I used to dread the walks when we first got her but over time, I love getting out.  I interact with neighbors and strangers. On so many occasions, neighbors or passerbys would comment because my arms were always stretched in the opposite directions, Brinkley, the swift one in front, and Annie, the elder lagging behind. At first she lagged behind for the sniffing, but then it was about age and lung capacity.  People would comment about how white her fur was and how old Annie looked.  (I felt those comments)  In the last weeks, we had to walk Annie shorter and shorter distances.  But this time, Brinkley and I could walk briskly.  Now there is only one treat to give out. I had to use treats a lot with Annie.  I had to touch her with her diminished hearing and wake her up and coax her to go outside and relieve herself, otherwise it would end up on my carpet.  She would look at me blankly like I was a crazy, and then she began moving, oh so very slowly.  I understood her slowness.  

Last weekend, before Annie moved on the great mystery, we made an abrupt decision and adopted another cat, nine days after putting Princess down. Of course, it was too soon but my rationalizations could not hold up against the wistful faces and desires of the other two humans that day.   It was too soon for Mallory, because she still misses Princess dreadfully.  I beat myself up over going through with it, but am letting it go.  The new kitty is all over Mallory and staying in her part of the house.  This is for new cat to adjust as well as make friends with Brinkley, who is very eager to make her acquaintance. She is beautiful, skittish, and slowly adventuring out.  New sightings are are so much fun. 

I am waiting patiently as Elizabeth lets me in to bond which Mallory very much wants to occur.  And yes, we are naming her Elizabeth... after Bennett of Pride and Prejudice and of course, the late Queenie, with many nicknames available. 

Mallory had told me that Elizabeth likes to visit her when she sits on the toilet (and when she is sleeping and studying).  So when Mallory is not here,  I use that toilet.  And bam, out comes Lizzie rubbing up against my legs. I am generally able to get a nice visit in by gentling swooping her up and petting her very generously. 

It was too soon to adopt her but I can see that this sweet blip of a presence is giving me life.  I am attuning to a flash of white and griege in my eyeline.   She is different from Princess and I am embracing that.  I am letting her be.  I cannot force myself on her.  I have to let her be who she is. 

I am affirming that for myself as well. 

I am letting go of some old ideas and embracing the new.  There are thought patterns I have to let go of that only cause me pain and the only way through is to feel them. Last night, I simply adored crying and petting Elizabeth all at the same time.  I was grieving the old and embracing the new and she didn't seem to mind at all. 

Pets are incredible. 

RIP Princess & Annie. We loved most every minute we had with you, minus the excrement in the wrong places.  You brought us joy, laughter and companionship for so many years. ❤️❤️

Namaste.  

Dad And Trees and Speaking Up

Dad died three years ago today.  I wrote a piece right after dad died about how I wished I could have connected more with him.  I longed for personal interaction.  I don't remember any conversations or activities that we did together just the two of us.  It felt like a huge void in my life.  I was boy crazy from an early age.  I was that girl that had to have a boyfriend and as I look back, I wish I would have had more respect for myself.  I cringe but am learning to laugh when I watch a sitcom that makes fun of a young woman with "daddy issues." That was me. It is a thing.  I am aware of it now.

I am also aware that I tend to freeze in place and not act even when I know what to do. I don't speak up. I didn't have the confidence. I'm learning.

Months ago at a teenage values seminar at our church that broached sexuality, one of our youth pastors advised dads of girls: pay attention to your girls and hug them.  They need it and it reduces sexual promiscuity.

When George and I were dating, and we talked about having a family,  I remember telling him that if we had girls he had to pay attention to them, talk to them and do things with them.  I said it once and he has obliged my request since they were born.  I now can see (after George pointed it out!) that it came out as a forceful demand on my part.  I don't regret it.  I spoke up.  I am thrilled that the girls connect with him.  It is necessary and needed.

Yet it also brings up sadness as I type.  There will always be the little girl in me that needs her daddy's attention. It took me many years to accept Dad as he was and it wasn't an easy process. I was angry for a long while and then I grieved.  I grieved him before he died and eventually came to a place of acceptance.  I then could appreciate what he did give me.  I know that he loved me but he could not say it out loud.  I admit I have trouble with this myself.  It was much easier to express love with my children when they were younger than it is with grown people.  I have work to do, to practice vulnerability, to speak up.  It's new territory. Dad's form of love was to provide a roof over my head, clothe, feed and educate me.  Education was really important. And I'm grateful for that.  I really see that now.

Dad loved the outdoors.  I remember his very tanned arms.  On the other hand, I'm an A/C girl who likes to write and talk about thoughts and feelings and spirituality and go to yoga.  He was a gardener, hunter and fisher.   Years before he died, he built a cabin on family property that goes back several generations.  He built it for his family to use. He didn't talk about it or tell me, he just did it. Thanks to him, I'm a tree farmer and I enjoy walking with my brother and surveying the land. My kids love to ride the four-wheelers and get their feet wet in the creek and the girls love to kid me about my country roots, but I know they like it too.

My connection to him now is in land and trees.

And as I walk the dogs in my neighborhood on my street,  I found the most ironic display as a reminder.

Do you see it?

The tree is speaking to me.

Namaste.

She Was Enchanted

I have been trying to finish the 2009 Disney Scrapbook album for many years.

Yes, eight years to be exact.  We are leaving in a few short days to visit Disney World again.  Something spurred me on to make it a mission to finish this album.

In 2013, I made an earnest effort to finish and by that I mean, I pulled out all the materials and posted about it on Facebook.  My daughter came across this pic on FB two days ago and made fun of me.

That was four years ago.

But that attempt did get me as far as being completely organized and knowing exactly what pages were left.

I swore off ever doing another scrapbook years before that, but I had to finish this one.  I now make Shutterfly albums using digital photos and I have several of those under my belt and already on the shelf.

But the 2009 Disney Scrapbook remains.

This was a trip we took with my mother in law.  She is no longer with us.  When you first look at pictures of people who have departed, it's like a sucker punch.  Now, it's just a soft push.

GaGa loved "It's A Small World." She was enchanted by it.  When we went in 2012 a few months after she died,  I felt her on that ride and I teared up.  I was enchanted and enjoyed it and was grateful.

I was in the moment in that ride.

Do I not want to finish this album because it permanently finishes the trip?  Who knows?! I only had a few pages left.  Last night, I finished those pages. So it's done.  But yet, I keep tweaking and printing captions.  I need to put all of the remaining materials away and yet I procrastinate.

 I can feel some emotion stirring as I type this so I may be on to something.  I just know it's time to finish.  There will always be residual sadness.  GaGa died five years ago last month.  She loved my girls up close and personally.  She was at our house all the time.  She was with us.   

Letting go of a person who loved my children and I, whole-heartedly, well, it's hard to lose a person like that in your life.  

Sigh.

But it's time to finish.  She is still with me.  Her sense of fun.  She had much gratitude about simple things.  That stood out to me.  I carry that with me. 

She and Charlie (her husband) would always remark after we went somewhere for a meal or an event how nice it was.  Those remarks always stood out to me.  Now I can see it as a gratitude and living in the moment.  Gratitude is good.

I'm looking forward to Disney World.  There will be good moments and bad moments.  But I'm thrilled that the girls are looking forward to it. We have a countdown dry erase board for it. We are so excited to see our family spirit animal, Eeyore in person! An aside is that Riley is starting high school in a few months. How long will family vacations go on? Time is passing.  How DID that happen? 

I still see them this way.

 

Namaste. 

Learning to Live with The Energy: Donald Trump, Susan Boyle and Christmas

Over the last 7-8 years, I have taught myself how to feel my feelings again.   The years during infertility and especially postpartum depression really affected me.  I cried so much during that period of time, it was exhausting and I recall the despair very easily. I did not want to go down that rabbit hole of darkness and despondency ever again.

When I showed up in therapy (to lose weight) (smile),  I didn't know that I had made an unconscious decision not to cry anymore.  I learned over the next few months and years, that wasn't a good move.  It was protective, but not healthy for my soul at all.  Most of our society runs from it's feelings and compulsively avoids them at all costs.  It runs the gamut:  alcohol, shopping, religion, sports, legal and illegal drugs, food, cleaning, hoarding, perfectionism of anything, and the latest one, electronic devices which are all used to avoid the energy that is part of life.

How many times have you heard that it is a bad thing to cry?  "I'm sorry I made you cry." "Please don't cry."

I am learning to make friends with that energy that comes my way naturally every day.  And make friends with all of it including the so called negative emotions of anxiety, grief, fear and sadness.  As well as the "positive" ones: joy, laughter, and fun.  It was most surprising to me that when you block feelings and stay numb, you block all of them even the "good" ones.

I have had to learn how to have fun, be playful again because having fun made me extremely uncomfortable too.

Seriously.

Life is full of despair.  It will come again.  That is guaranteed.  As does the joy.

In therapy, I lost my religion, gained a loving relationship with God and most importantly learned to let go of fear (what I was running from avoiding the feelings) and embrace LOVE.  Hence, the title of my blog.

It takes so much practice though.  And it's very uncomfortable in the beginning and at times, I still freeze up.

But life will give you practice.

Death, Sickness, Terrorism, Donald Trump for President.  (grin)

In decorating for Christmas, thoughts turn to my mother in law.  She loved Christmas especially knick knacks.  We went through more of her belongings this past weekend and let go of more Christmas knick knacks.  As we played holiday tunes on the way to school this morning, I had a thought that I should have held on to some of those knick knacks.

Yet, I hate knick knacks.

So as I was cleaning up, I felt myself in that most uncomfortable place of sadness sitting on my chest.  How do I let it flow?  Hmmm.  I had pulled out Christmas CD's the night before. What music will make me cry?

I put on Susan Boyle and listened to "Perfect Day" which did the trick.

"Oh, it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you"

The tears fell.  I felt like Ga Ga was with me.  And she was.

And the energy has passed for now.

Some more will come again.  That is life.

Namaste.

For Good

Mallory and I started watching Broadway at the White House, did I tape this?  How did it get on the DVR?  But it was there.  I must watch it.  I was just there at the White House.

I love theater.

And then this happened.

I love this song.

Compassion, Love and Forgiveness.

I always think of my mother in law when I listen to this song.  I went into the ugly cry.  Mallory patted me and said it was okay.

It's okay to cry and it's okay to miss someone and remember how they changed your life.

Yoga Class, My Dad and Intuition

I went to yoga yesterday which is always, always a good decision.  There was no background music during the class as the teacher's phone wasn't working.  There was just silence and the soothing voice of Carmen, the instructor.  The class was not as physically intense giving more time to let the mind and thoughts go...

Going through the motions and poses of class, I was aware that there was an older man next to me, During one particular exercise, we were laying on our backs and had to stretch out our arms and I had to look to make sure I would not hit him.  I also noticed he wasn't paying any attention to this.   Our hands were within an inch and a half of each other.  I had to hold my fingers up to avoid touching.

When I glanced at his hand, I saw his gold wedding band.  All of a sudden, the image of my dad's hands popped up in my head.  Emotion flooded me in an instant.  My dad's hands were thicker than mine and tanned from all of his time and work outside.  And I wished that I could look at them one more time.

Grief just seems to pop out of nowhere.

We were so close, yet able to finish that yoga sequence to completion without ever touching.  

I continue to be amazed at what emotion comes up in yoga and how it comes up so quickly and without any warning.  I am reminded that we store feelings in the body (and heart)  and that when we are quiet, or writing, or practicing yoga, "stuff" comes up.  And is it fun to feel this stuff??  Nooooo. (But it is healing and necessary to be whole hearted)

I don't want to go through the motions of life anymore, I want to have an open heart even if it is uncomfortable.  I'm learning to be curious and kind to all feelings that come up.  It is becoming crystal clear that mindfulness is the only way though compulsions.  And when one blocks or numbs feeling, you don't just block the so called "negative" emotions, you block joy and excitement and happiness too.

That afternoon, I head to Riley's softball game, I look up and there was Dad's cardiologist and my chest felt heavy again.  Really, today?!  This is not a coincidence.  (Holy Spirit!) We attend the same church but I don't see him very often but when I do,  I immediately think of dad.  I don't know him very well, essentially just through my parents and they really liked, admired and trusted him.  I felt called to go and speak to him.  We chatted for a while. He said what a nice man my dad was and when he took on Dad's case and looked through his thick chart and poor heart condition, how impressive it was that he lived as long as he did on peritoneal dialysis.  In essence, Dad stands as the poster child for living as long as he did under his complicated health conditions.

The most meaningful thing was that I was compelled to tell this doctor about the yoga class and the feelings about my dad that came up.  I took a risk yet he totally understood what had occurred as he himself had practiced yoga years back.  He knew what I was talking about.

I don't know why I decided to tell him what had been transpiring that day but I did.  I have learned my lesson so many times and experienced the blank stares from people who have not earned the right to hear my story and yet I tried to tell them anyway... I'm learning not to do that.

But today was meant to be. It worked out.  I listen to my intuition and I shared and was understood and comforted. It was a very precious moment.

(Listening to intuition is such a skillful practice and a God thing. This was a higher power moment. )

And the tears are still falling and the chest still gets heavy at times.  And it's not a bad thing.  It's a healing thing.  Who knew my dad would visit me in yoga?  I would never have put that together at all.  {smile}  After all, he had a good sense of humor.

Namaste.

Grieving The Only Way I Know How

Saturday was the year anniversary of my dad's passing.  I didn't even remember until the afternoon the significance of the day.  I had stayed busy all morning with kids' activities and dog sitting but evidently it wasn't on my mind.

And I think what is wrong with me?  (I feel everything now! I cry at any tender moment)

Later in the day I noticed that some relatives had posted their tributes on Facebook.  Yet, I felt... nada, nothing.  And then shame entered in the picture because he was my father after all, I should feel something.

And then a friend pointed out an Anne Lamott quote: "You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” 

And it's not that dad behaved badly, he was who he was.  I went back and read what I wrote in this blog shortly after he died, about our relationship.  The gist is that I always wanted more from him.   I did not feel connected to him interpersonally.  We never chatted one on one. He never called me.  He was a physical presence.  He was not able to give any more than that and I grieved and I was angry and I grieved some more and over time I learned to accept him for who he was.  I did this especially knowing he had multiple medical issues and our time was most likely limited.  And in the very end I came to the conclusion that his lesson to me was authenticity.  In one of the only heart to hearts we had, he had told me, he wasn't going to change, he was who he was.  And so my positive spin was...I've got to be who I am. 

I'm so glad I re-read what I wrote because I needed that reminder to be authentic again.  We can only be who we are and if we don't do that, it's a miserable life following other people's cues.   Owning who I am and stepping out to do the things that interest me is the opportunity to connect to others who are my tribe and that is an amazing occurrence. That is where wholeness and healing begins to occur.

So on Sunday, I went to church. And it was still on my mind that I hadn't felt much of anything upon the anniversary.  And then...the song in the Call to Prayer was this:

And a few tears rolled down my cheek.  

I am connected to my father.  

It may not have been the way I wanted but I am.   A lot of my connection is through family heritage with land and trees and ancestors that I love to delve into.  I'm also connected by a history of growing up in the Methodist Church and through hymns and music.  I have very specific memories of standing in the tiny Ethel United Methodist Church on the back left row (!) and listening to him sing.  That is my connection. 

So, there we are, or rather there I am!  Not everyone grieves in the same way or in the same time frame. And sometimes, the people whom you want to connect with in the worst way, are not the ones whom it will be.   I can't make something out of nothing.  I can just be me. 

Why Does Crying Get Such A Bad Rap?

I had a big ugly cry yesterday morning, actually several of them, and it is uncomfortable for me to let that much emotion flow through. It's getting easier as I am learning to not stuff my emotions. The catalyst was bringing Mallory, my beloved nine year old muse, to the chartered bus to ride 7 hours away to her first overnight camp for 6 nights. I have never doubted she will have a blast when she decided she wanted to go and I put it out my mind.  BUT IT CAME BACK.

I was a little taken aback when the uncomfortableness popped up two days before we were to bring her to catch the bus on Sunday morning.  The night before I had an intuition that I might need to stay at home from church and let George and Riley go on their own.  But I got dressed to go and read the chapter I needed to read for my class and off we went.  But after hugging that precious girl (who had told me she was nervouscited herself) and watching her walk off and get on the big chartered bus, I lost it.

I had big sunglasses on but the tears were rolling down my cheeks. I tired to wipe them away so no one would see them.

In hindsight, I really, really needed that release.  We drove off to church in silence except that I explained that I would come back and pick them up.

The funky thing is trying to hide the emotion from those other parents in the parking lot or in my own car.   I did tell George and Riley that I needed to grieve her and some other things.   I NEEDED to let this out.  I really, really needed this release.

Sometimes the catalyst that tips you over really isn't the entire reason why the tears come.  And I don't need to analyze why, I just need to let it flow.  Be kind to myself and embrace the tears or whatever emotion it is.  No judging that I'm a wussy, or that I'm crazy, or that I feel too much.

 How many times have I heard someone say in real life or on tv, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry?")

Why does crying get such a bad rap?

I cried off and on all morning.  And I still have to tell myself it's okay to do so when I don't see others doing the same thing.  In the back of my mind,  I still judge myself a little for not keeping it together.  My husband is not going to feel the same as I do.  The other moms are not going to feel exactly as I do.  {codependency no more!} Learning to own my own story and allowing that story to be just as it is, has been a big hurdle.

While the tears were flowing, I know I was also grieving other things.  My engagement ring is missing (appears to be stolen) and my Dad's estate is being settled and I've been involved with the legal paperwork.   Dad is reaching from beyond his death to love in his own way.

I did have headaches in the afternoon and evening and this morning but that is O-K too.  It feels like such a relief to let all of that blocked energy flow.  I have low energy this morning and I need to nurture myself.  There is always something that needs to be done and I will do what I absolutely have to and then rest or wait to see what happens, I may be surprised.

I'm learning to roll with the flow whatever that is and be kind to myself while this is happening.

Namaste.

Letting Go Of What's Broken, Part 1

I have read this sentiment before, probably several times over the last few years.  I'm learning that growth is learning the same lessons again and again over time and each time it seeps in just a little deeper into my soul.  I look at it as a spiral and going deeper into the spiral.

When it first happens that a truth of life (an aha) that I had previously experienced comes my way again, I think to myself, "Seriously, this point again?!  I've been here, done this!"  But now it's a little easier, the second, third, fourth, fifth time around…

There are important people in my life that I just need to let go. Let go of who I want them to be.




I have been trying very hard to push for something that doesn't exist in reality.  It's my idea of what a relationship should look like.  It does exist for others that I see around me but that is why there should be no comparing my life with another's life.   There's a saying about doing the same thing over and over and getting the same result.  Yes, that's where I am.  And it can be very painful.

Some people are hard to let go.

Or rather it's the idea of some people.

So what keeps me from letting go.  Is it FEAR?   It's not that I haven't had these same thoughts about certain people multiple times over the years.  When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. (Maya Angelou) It's taken years to embrace the fear of letting it be.  Fear of the unknown.  If I let go of this person or situation, what will my life look like?  Will it be empty and have a void?

(And I've been concentrating so much on that void off and on for years anyway, what would happen if I put that energy towards someone who was open and responsive?)

The path I see clearly now, is that I have to continue grieving and let it go.  But who wants to grieve?   Who wants to volunteer for pain?  Our western culture has so many ways, and compulsions to avoid the uncomfortable emotions.   I just don't believe in that anymore and I don't want to do that anymore.  And I'm learning to feel everything that comes my way.  The joy, the despair, the anxiety, the peace, the calm, the fear, anger, etc. etc.  I'm learning to think differently about those feelings when they come up and allow them to flow through.

Yet the amazing thing in my experience is that letting go, then gets me to the very thing I wanted and needed in the first place but from unexpected sources.  I wake up and think, this person is providing me with exactly what I needed.  It was here all along. Wow!

Dorothy, you had it in you all along.

I had to let go of the old (thoughts) and embrace the new.

And it's so magical. Love abounds where you had no idea it's possible.  It's shows up in unexpected faces and places.  It is rich and sweet.

Letting go of what's broken, is making me whole.

NAMASTE.

What A Pan of Cornbread Dressing Really Means

This was the first ever Thanksgiving meal I prepared on our own after George and I got married and were living in Buffalo.  This was the late 90's.   George came home and helped at some point probably on Thanksgiving day as he was working round the clock in residency.  We enjoyed this meal at our home with several of his fellow residents (all bachelors might I add), and they didn't offer to help clean the dishes.  Not that it stuck in my craw at all...

Well, I had no idea how to cook the big dishes of that meal.   I called home several times and my dad talked me through how to do so.  I did not connect with my dad on a multitude of levels but this time I needed help and he was the man for the job.  This included "the dressing."  My dad's dressing was one that he had perfected over many years from what he remembered his grandmother had made.

On this first holiday without him, I went back and forth about whether to cook the dressing.  I haven't made it myself in years and it's an ordeal, containing cornbread, rice and turkey meat. And this year,  I was cooking everything else for the entire meal as well, which is quite the undertaking and sometimes simpler is better.

But it won't seem like the holiday without having it.  So...

Yesterday, I pulled out the sixteen year old piece of paper I had written down the instructions on all those years ago and began the process.  Two trips to the supermarket later and twisting of my children's arms to help with some other sides and voila.  I also broke the rules and used chicken we already had frozen in broth which was a fantastic time saver for me.

Here is the dressing, ready to be put in a dish and baked - except for the green onion that I still need to add.  I will admit that I ate a small bowl just to see if it tasted right. {smile}

YUM.

This year, I'm sad that my dad is not here but I feel his presence around this dressing.  I feel connected. I felt it cutting and chopping and the blending of all of the ingredients. It brings a warm feeling even with all of the effort.  My children will tell you I don't always cook mostly because when I try something new the kids don't eat it.  Aarrggghh.

The jury is out to see if the girls will ever like it as much as I do.  Sometimes it takes time for appreciation to kick in. And then there is George who grew up in the North with the bird stuffed and different food traditions and he wants to make his own stuffing with sausage in it.  The poor man has had to eat our Southern cuisine for all these years. {grin}

Leftovers, anyone?  We will have them. And I look forward to making some turkey and sausage gumbo after as well.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!  May the tradition that warms your heart be yours on this special day.
Namaste.

It's Just Not Meant To Be

I am needing to grieve a relationship in my life.  It is just not meant to be the way I want it to be.  Again and again, this has been brought to my attention.  Did I say how many times over and over again?   It's so over and as the Maya Angelou saying goes: "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time."  It's whipping me in the head for what feels like the thousandth time and I remain a punching bag.  I so deeply want a connection that I keep putting my heart on the line and it keeps getting battered.  It's enough.  It's time to let it go.

I need to have a shift in thinking, big time.

Why do I keep going back for more pain?   It must be my ego.  My ego thinks "What's wrong with me?"    Perhaps my ego thinks, if only they could see me for who I am they would love me.  I've tried really hard to do things the "right" way.  But it will never be right enough, I can see that a little more clearly now.

And there is no "right" way, there is only who I authentically am.  I can only be me.   I am coming to own who I am and I know that deep within me (that God place that I have found) it's about love.  If this person can't see the love, then that's their own stuff in the way.   It's taken so much work to get where I am, I can't go back.  I have to let my light shine and find others who see it.

Okay, so how do I shift my thinking?  Each time this person comes to mind - I have to detach.  I have to detach from the self defeating thoughts.  And in the end, I need to grieve my idea of this relationship.  I came across the following paragraph from a friend.  This is how I need to grieve it.  It is exactly what I need to move on, to do repeatedly over and over.  I can't identify myself with the stories I'm telling that I'm not good enough.


4. SUFFER CONSCIOUSLY. (From Eckhart Tolle)
Observe your emotional pain, your anguish and frustrations. Observe the constant stream of negative thoughts that run through your mind. The dreadful stories that keep feeding your pain, but choose not to identify yourself with them. See yourself as the one who’s observing all that emotional pain and all that discomfort. But don’t make the pain part of who you are. Don’t make it your person life story. Don’t claim it as your own.

And here is the crux of all of it:

“Suffering consciously is when you feel, sense and accept the suffering. It is not suffering anymore it is just pain. To be suffering you must have an unhappy me with a story and the world that is doing it to me.” ~ Eckhart Tolle

I don't want to live in fear anymore.  I don't want to live in victimhood.  This person is not doing this to me. (although it feels real personal.)  I need to lovingly pay attention to the faulty thoughts that I think about myself, that there is something wrong with me.   This really isn't about me.  I have chosen suffering instead of allowing the pain.  I have to accept it's not meant to be.  It's simply not meant to be.  Maybe that can be my mantra.
Allow the pain. It's not meant to be. Let the pain flow.  It's only suffering if I tell myself there's something inherently wrong with me.  There's nothing wrong with me.  It's Just Not Meant to Be.

Middle School Honors, Home Depot, Dogs and Grief

My daughter's Middle School Honors Program was two days ago.  Ten minutes before I am due to leave to attend, I break down in an ugly cry.  The feelings came swiftly and seemingly out of nowhere and these powerful emotions surprise me, but they were so cathartic.  The thoughts came in my head that I missed my mother in law and wished she was here and how proud she would have been of Riley and bam, the waterworks spewed.

Today would have been GaGa's birthday.  We lost her to nasty, ugly cancer two years ago.  

I miss my mother in law's unconditional love and enthusiasm for my children.  She loved them as if she had given birth to them herself.  As a mother, I wanted to keep that person on my team. 

This relationship with my mother in law didn't start out glorious.  It took the nineteen years I knew her to work through excitement, dread, commonality, and then unconditional love.  I learned how to have boundaries with her, especially while she was dying, and that was the greatest gift of all for this recovering people pleaser.  

Over the weekend, we found cushions that fit in the patio chairs that had come from her apartment.   I had a verklempt moment in the middle of Home Depot when I realized that they would work and they were pretty and we could keep this little part of her around.  

But she IS around.  My inconvenient crying prior to school events is her letting me know she is with us.  I'm sad she never met Annie or Brinkley.  She would have loved those dogs.  For this reformed cat lover, dogs are more active expressions of unconditional love. (and work and love…)  I know she must have been the one to help wear me down to Mallory's pleas  to agree to get the first one.  

And the second one.  

But GaGa, we are done with adding dogs for now!  And as Mallory has given up on begging for a puppy, I will not get a bunny either.   Two dogs, two cats, two kids.  We are brimming with four legged love. 

I know you are with us.  You are still a part of the team.  Happy 82nd Birthday!  Love you and miss you here walking beside us, but I still feel your presence.  

Namaste.

P.S. Riley would like to make mention that she won a merit medal for Science, is on Principal's List for All A's and was recognized by the Duke Tip program which she made me sign her up online which resulted in another trip to the stage to receive a certificate!

Because I Knew You

I first heard the song, "For Good" on the Oprah Series Finale as sung by Kristen Chenoweth.  I got chills, as it was so powerful to watch the men that Oprah had educated walk by with candles.  It was an amazing energy coming through the tv screen that I could not deny and I teared up as Oprah received gratitude from the Morehouse men, her viewers and friends.

I had never heard the song but it blew me away.  I eventually downloaded it and listened.  It was from the musical, "Wicked."  As GaGa was losing her cancer battle, I listened.  The reputation of a mother in law is not always a positive one.  And the relationship with mine, evolved greatly over the years.  In the early ones, all was well as she lived far away in Massachusetts.   The closest in proximity we were was 7 hours away during our Buffalo stint.  A few years later, she was a widow and ready to move to Baton Rouge where we were.  I was frightened.  She didn't drive and hinted at wanting to live WITH us.  {gulp} When she would come for her two week visits which were ten days too long for me, she acknowledged my lack of perfectionism in home related matters. 

I had not learned yet that these comments said more about her than me.  If I had been okay with who I was, then the comments shouldn't matter, but they stung at the time.

Yet, she ended up in a fantastic retirement community ten minutes away and made friends and had experiences she was unable to do previously.  We worked things out.  She spent a lot of time with us at our house on weekends, and even travelled  together.  She loved my kids almost as much as I do.  As her health declined we actively discussed that "we were good."  There was nothing we needed to hash out.  She had taught me household tricks even as I wasn't really paying attention, but evidently I had listened.  In one of our last heart to hearts, she told me that I softened her.

Wow, what do you say to that?

Yet, she taught me one of the best lessons ever.  We would discuss issues at hand and then agree to disagree.  It wasn't so outright at first but over time, I realized what was occurring.  I had different opinions than her and after the conversation, we carried on as usual, with no repercussions.  Wow.  That was life changing for me.  

GaGa's birthday was May 15th.  We had chocolate cake with candles and sung Happy Birthday.  She would have been 81.  

This afternoon, I'm very excited to see "Wicked the Musical" for the first time.  The last song of the show is....

The I Love Grandma Cup

Well, some things just rip you up.

We are very slowing going through GaGa's remaining possessions.  The boxes are lined up against the entire back wall of the garage.

There are many items I have no trouble letting go of, especially because they are going to Connections for Life, my favorite charity.  And then, I pull another item out the box, unwrap the tissue and bam, my heartstrings are yanked and I immediately need to cry.

This is Riley from our Christmas card picture for 2003.  GaGa told me how much it made her smile to see this face when she drank her coffee every morning.

You just can't replace that unique enthusiasm that a grandmother has for their grandchild.  It's love, and you know that someone loves your child almost as much as you do.

Do I keep it or do I let it go?  I can't donate it.  It makes me sad to see it, so I want to let it go.  I may have to hold on to it for a few days just like the plastic Disney princesses. I eventually let them go, it just took me a few weeks.

It is so true that grief comes in waves, and when you least expect it over things that you had no idea would bring up emotion.  How we connect to the people in our lives is a mystery and how it bubbles up after they pass away is as well.

I miss Grandma.

I need to tell Riley how much Grandma enjoyed looking at her picture from this mug and there is one for Mallory too.  I told GaGa I would keep her memory alive as she lay sick in the bed.  In the moment I pulled the cup out, it was too painful for me to bring it up then, but that sad feeling passes and another opportunity will arise.  I do want them to know how much she loved them and still does from the great mystery.

This is just a cup.  It is not Grandma.  I use to have a hard time of letting items go, but now I know, a cup isn't going to keep Grandma around.  My telling Riley and Mallory how much she loved them will.

Letting Go and Holding On

Two weeks ago, Mallory was home sick with a fever and a sore throat.  She loves to languish in our new tub and watch the Disney Channel for as long as she can.  While she was in there, we went through her "tub toys" to declutter.  Sometimes there are items that I am secretly relieved that she doesn't want to get rid of but this time she was ready for these Disney Princess figurines to go.

I'm not ready to let them go.

GaGa bought these for her on our first family trip to Disney in 2009.  Mallory was feeling sick the first day and she played with these for hours at the hotel room.

I am not especially fond of the message of the Disney princess story lines with the exception of the last two movies.

So why I am attached to this plastic figurines?  For the moment, they represent what GaGa did with us and for us.  She was an active part of our family, and knew how to entertain a three year old.  She got on the floor and played.  She was up for most anything.

I miss her.  I had a really good cry last week because it was the first Grandparent's chapel at the girls' school without her being alive.  It hit me after I dropped them off that day and there was so much excitement and bustling going on.  I wept and then it passed.

I use to believe that the passing of someone was insurmountable.  I am beginning to understand they are still with you and show up to make their presence known and I believe if you pay attention you can be comforted by that.  My sister in law is pregnant and due soon with their first and most long awaited for child.

I feel GaGa all over that.

Mother's Day, Milkweed and Memories

Mallory gave me my Mother's Day gift yesterday, which was a shoe box filled with 2 homemade cards, some of her makeup and my trophy from participating in a Farm Bureau Queen's contest in 1986.  Priceless!

Riley applied my makeup and gave me a foot and hand massage.  It wasn't so long ago that I was struggling to become a mother and I will never forget that journey. The girls are growing up quickly and these moments are precious including the ones when I want to pull my hair out in exasperation.  All of these moments, priceless and aggravating are the precious ones.  I am learning to appreciate them all.

It was our first Mother's Day without GaGa.  I know George had some sadness and I did too.  Earlier in the week as I spontaneously decided to grab my mother's day card, I was overwhelmed and could have had the ugly cry in the middle of the CVS aisle because I only needed one card this year.

Grief hits in different ways and waves I have heard, but maybe this next experience wasn't grief.  On Friday night,  Mallory and I attended a Disney Princess on Ice show.  GaGa happily attended these types of events with us and marveled at how good they were.   At times, she really lived in the moment and that is what I aspire to.   I was compulsed to buy too many souvenirs, but I went with it for some reason this time.  As my tears flowed toward the end of the Rapunzel and Flynn Rider portion, it hit me that GaGa must be with us. I have been watching "Long Island Medium" and her advice that when you feel your departed love one in some shape or form, know that they are with you.  I believe her.

I have known we needed to honor Mary in some way for us and for the girls.  It hit me yesterday how to do so. Our next door neighbor has shown us how the Monarch butterflies lay their eggs and then the caterpillars eat every single leaf of the milk weed plant and form the chrysalis with an elegant gold edge.  The appointed time passes and the Monarch butterfly emerges.  Mary loved butterflies and has one on her headstone.  So yesterday afternoon, we planted four milkweed plants and I look forward to watching the life cycle progress next Spring.

We will be making a trek to Disney soon, and I look forward to riding "It's a Small World" because that was GaGa's favorite.  And if I have the ugly cry that's okay, it's dark and loud in there!  GaGa, we miss you but I feel you around us!

Contemplating the Larger Issues

The ancients are right: the dear old human experience is a singular, difficult, shadowed, brilliant experience that does not resolve into being comfortable in the world.  The valley of the shadow is part of that, and you are depriving yourself if you do not experience what humankind has experienced, including doubt and sorrow.  We experience pain and difficulty as failure instead of saying, I will pass through this, everyone I have ever admired has passed through this, music has come out of it, literature has come out of it.  We should think of our humanity as a privilege. ~ Novelist Marilynne Robinson to a reporter who inquired about Ms. Robinson observing that Americans tend to avoid contemplating larger issues

I am reading another book about grief.  This one is called "The Long Goodbye" by Meghan O'Rourke and is about her journey after her 55 year old mother succumbs to cancer.  I have been reading books on loan digitally from the library on my iPad.  I love that they are free and I can read in the middle of the night and not turn a light on and wake George (although I think he had learned to sleep through the light, it makes me feel better).  I avoided this one for a while even though it was available because it was about grief.  I'm not grieving anymore because I did that all before she died.  LOL  Yet not surprisingly I am relishing it.  It reminds me a lot of Joan Didion's two books about her loved ones dying, very raw and very honest, which are two attributes I really admire.

Here's the conflict, grieving is not something anyone brings up around 2-4 weeks after the person dies.  All mention of the person who died is gone, like it never happened.  And most everyone who loses someone thinks about the person who died every day and depending on the intensity of the relationship every hour.  Death is not dealt with well in this country and the author reminds me of mourning rituals which are completely gone.  Feelings are not accepted as normal.  As a society it seems whenever someone cries, they have to apologize for doing so and that is so unhealthy.

There are a few things that stand out to me from Ms. Robinson's quote and first is that we do not resolve into being comfortable into the world.  I would really really like to reach a place of comfort but that is not what this journey of life is about if you want to live it fully.  My journey to figure out how to lose weight three years ago turned into the journey of healing my inner self.  I have been peeling back the layers to  allow my authentic self to come forth.  As I'm evolving, one of the many lessons is that THIS IS LIFE and you must hold on for the ride!  There are magnificent highs, unbearable lows, and everything in between including utter sweetness that you wish you could hold on to forever and aggravations that you wish you could snap out of in an instant.  The roller coaster metaphor is real.  And my authentic self is one that wants to embrace it all, the highs, and reluctantly the lows.  I am learning to examine the feelings that come, even the ones that make me want to hide with a kind embrace and not run and hide.  I have to be open, and vulnerable in order for this to occur and this takes practice.

I am still learning that pain and difficulty are not failure but merely something that I will pass through.  And during and after that pain, I have found many exquisite moments of creativity that I cherish.  I either can write myself, appreciate someone else's writing, hear a song, or read some lyrics and be awed that someone out there felt the exact same way I did once.  That is humanity and I love to contemplate the larger issues!

If I Feel That Way Again...

After hitting a wall two weeks ago, and really digging deep, giving myself permission to feel the pain of loss (GaGa), and lack of control (skin cancer), my outlook brightened.  I went to therapy and commented how my mood was better after going through the deep ugly cry, and getting it out the week before.  My therapist said allowing those feelings out was the precursor to being in the more pleasant place I was in currently.  I said something about maybe feeling those low feelings again in the future.

My therapist responded, WHEN you feel that way again.

I just chuckled.  The desperate desire to not feel those deep dark painful feelings remains! but now I can laugh at myself because I forget.  There is no place to go to escape the highs and lows.  I cannot wake up and feel "good" each day.  I have to ride the roller coaster of emotions which make up life.  It is getting a little easier bit by bit to accept those low feelings WHEN they come around.

I also had been thinking about my eldest daughter.  She has a multitude of feelings about being left out with her friends at school.  I hear about this frequently.  It hit me that she has to learn to process these uncomfortable feelings of hers, just like I do.   There is something in me as a mother, who wants her to not feel any pain BUT, and this is the biggest BUT of all, we all have to live with the ups and downs of life.   Wouldn't it be a fantastic lesson for her and my youngest to learn it now?!  I can't take away her pain but I can guide her in acceptance at a nine year old level.  And probably the best way is by example.  When I'm tired, I rest.  When I need to cry, I don't hide it.  When I'm excited, I show it.  When I'm frustrated, explain why.  When I'm joyful, dance.  My daughters are watching every move I make.  And pretty much every day I learn something new.

I'm so glad we can afford for me to go to therapy. {big smile}

Going With The Flow

I have been feeling very blah lately. My therapist says that I like to figure out why because that is who I am. Yet maybe I need to try something else? Is this a way of trying to control "negative" feelings, or to judge myself whether I should be feeling bad about anything, instead of meeting the feelings with kindness and wonder and letting them flow through? I have always felt the need to rationalize my feelings and it impedes them flowing through.

The facts: My mother in law, my ally, died one month ago after a long harrowing bout with cancer.

In December, I found out I had Melanoma In Situ on my lower leg which is clear now.

Summer is approaching and I will lose my sacred alone time which rejuvenates my soul so much.

My friend Karen C L Anderson who has written a book and a blog, "Before and After: A Real Life Story" recently posted Michael J. Fox's quote from this past Sunday's Parade section. “I don’t look at life as a battle or as a fight. I don’t think I’m scrappy. I’m accepting. I say ‘living with’ or ‘working through’ Parkinson’s. Acceptance doesn’t mean resignation – it means understanding that something is what it is and that there’s got to be a way through it. I look at it like I’m a fluid that’s finding the fissures and cracks and flowing through.”

I love how he puts this. It encapsulates my journey "To Golightly." Acceptance is the first step. Acceptance of my past and who shaped me, and the untrue stories I carried about myself, of the people around me, and acceptance of who I authentically am. Life is fluid, and that old saying to go with the flow makes sense now in a way that I could never have fathomed.  

This past weekend, George mentioned to me that it might be feasible in our future, to buy another house. We visited this nearly 3 years ago and did not go through with it. I jump on this new house hunting idea like white on rice. Weeks prior, while riding my bike in the back of the neighborhood I noticed that a house was on the market which started my mind going. It was just a bit bigger with the perfect layout (upstairs bonus room for the kids, office space for George and TWO computer nooks to hide my messy office) By Sunday, I had called the realtor to look at it, and contacted another friend to find out the value of our home. This dream house was under contract but that didn't stop me, I began a strategic search of homes for sale in our price range and area on the internet. We did go and look at one house that afternoon in a nearby neighborhood.  An adrenaline of excitement was flowing for the first time in a while.

That evening in bed, we discussed the house and mutually agreed that we should not start this endeavor, as it is so much work. GaGa just died and we need time to process. It has been a long year plus. We are tired. I now understand the truth about not making big decisions after losing important persons in your life.

I had a judgement of myself going on about this process and my desire to get a little more space. I run it over in my head whether it's a good idea to leave this fantastic location, or just stay put and upgrade our current home, etc. And then it occurred to me that I really enjoy looking at houses online and in person. And bottom line, there hasn't been much fun, or many planned joyful activities of late. Seriously, not much fun at all. I watched a loved one very painfully shrink to nothing over a two year period and we all suffered. I was diagnosed with skin cancer for gosh shakes. I NEED SOME FUN! If dreaming about potential future homes is fun, then I should not judge it and just enjoy it and dream yet move slowly and thoughtfully.

So for now, I will accept GaGa's death and the feelings that come my way, my blahness and also that I enjoy looking at houses online. I will go with the flow knowing that there is a way through.