optimism | MY JOURNEY'S INSIGHT

Posts Tagged ‘optimism’

MY DREAM STILL GLOWS

May 2, 2013

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

Below I share a new vocal for my song “My Dream.” Clicking the blue link plays audio:

Below is a blue link to my story about this song.

Story behind MY DREAM

Currently, I am creating many fruit illustrations for a line of yogurt labels.

It felt strange not to check the box that said “married” when I filled out this form a few weeks ago.

THE PRINCESS AND THE FOG

As the Princess continued her journey, she sometimes wondered how she stayed so strong. She didn’t rely on anyone; she marveled at her strength and determination. What she loved most was that she had not an iota of regret for choosing to follow her heart.

A few months earlier, the Princess emerged from a tunnel into blinding sunlight. But the brilliance quickly faded into darkness. The Princess was able to avoid the holes in her landscape and stayed positive because love continued to light her way. Gradually the inky blackness turned to gray and then the sky became white.

It was then that she noticed a fog had rolled in . . .

The fog was wispy at first, but soon it surrounded her in every direction.

The Princess hated to complain. Despite her awareness that worrying sucked away her energy, she began to wonder if the fog would ever lift. It was extremely annoying. She reminded herself that there was no hurry for her to get to any destination, because she loved where she was going. In her heart, she knew how valuable she was. She loved her journey.

Despite the fog, it was easy for the princess to have faith. When many gold coins suddenly fell in front of her path, it was something she never expected. Material items were unimportant for her, and yet this came at a time when her debt was overwhelming her. She believed there was definitely a message to find with those coins.

But then the fog began to hurt her eyes; and it wasn’t just annoying anymore. The Princess realized she was truly alone, as the fog separated her from a familiar world.

It wasn’t hard for her to be alone, she was just so discouraged by the pain. So she looked at her journey in the fog as an opportunity to find even more clarity.

Her eyes were half closed and she did not have much energy as she gritted her teeth and continued to move forward. Tears spilled down her cheeks easily.

Then the fog began to dance and she felt extreme heaviness. Spider webs appeared in her eyes and she felt her body slowing down. It was exhausting. Now there were silken webs tightening around her feet and pulling with each step. She tried to move, but instead she softly fell to the ground.

Her painful eyes were like slits. She heard a voice and through her half-closed eyes she saw a white spider grinning and cackling at her. The spider was speaking. It’s voice was very familiar and sounded like an old woman.

The Princess asked the spider, “Why are you here?”

The spider answered, “My dear, I am joining you and I know you remember me. There was a time when we spent all of our time together for many, many years.”

The Princess was weak and did not want to answer. But she asked the white spider, “What is your name?”

The spider tiptoed and whispered into the princess’s ear while she was still lying prone on the ground.

“My name is Sadness. Let’s travel together. While I am with you, we can even find many of those old memories that I am a part of.”

The princess felt her eyes glaze over. She was tired of crying and pulling at the webs. It was nice not to be alone anymore. She rested with Sadness and did not move for a long time.

But then the princess began to miss her musical elixir. She softly sang to herself and could feel her soul glowing with pleasure.

Magically, the webs surrounding her body began to melt away.

She ignored the spider on the ground as she stood up.

The white spider began to shriek, “You cannot do that – I am here to stay with you. You have no reason to push me away. I want to keep you company!”

The Princess smiled. She was relieved that she had not lost her ability to smile or sing. She ripped off the remaining webs that bound her and watched them float away. The magical elixir of music continued to fill her heart.

Now that she had vanquished the spider, she was even more certain of her strength. She sang loudly and freely and beamed with an inner glow.

Although her exterior felt ravaged by circumstances, inside she felt quite beautiful. Her appearance might not be sparkling, but that was unimportant for her because she knew it was temporary.

She remained thankful for so many things, but especially to God for giving her the musical elixir to help her. God even blessed her with gold coins to make her journey easier.

There was no reason to stop in the fog. It would lift someday. Until then, sadness would never be her companion again.

And with her music, she was never alone.

Recent email update to my family and friends:

This has been a most difficult time in my life. My eye problems have continued. A month ago I had a laser treatment called a capsulotomy, which treats a common cataract complication. It caused my vision to become clearer, but also left me with more noticeable floaters. I was told that was temporary.

After the procedure, my eyes continued bothering me. I could not shake the feeling that something was inside my eyes; it worsened and became painful. It was like I had spider webs in my eyes! I called my surgeon’s office. The receptionist from the ophthalmology department told me over the phone that it sounded like dryness and I needed to simply use artificial tears. I have been disappointed with the treatment I’ve received since my cataract surgery. When I was told that there were no appointments available, I found myself crying on the phone. Due to my insistence, I was given an appointment to see an optometrist instead.

At that appointment, I was told that my eyelids and tear ducts were inflamed. Steroid eye drops were prescribed and I was told to see my eye surgeon in 3 weeks.

In the meantime, I continue to work on a wonderful illustration project. I am thankful that I can easily see my large computer screen, however, working has certainly made the dryness in my eyes much worse.

My project is going well and is a godsend to my life. So far, my layouts have been well received. I am illustrating fruit, which is my specialty.

There are so many wonderful things in my life that I am grateful for. My daughter found a job, my oldest son is graduating college and my youngest son did an amazing job performing in a play at his new school.

The sale of my former home fell through and now a second buyer is having difficulty getting a loan. It will be two weeks before we will know if this sale will go through. I am not terribly affected by this, but I am concerned about the effect on my son and former husband. I trust that things will work out. If this sale does not go through, our home might sell for even more because the marketplace is excellent at the moment.

Music is still an IV for my soul. Even though I work long hours illustrating, I take breaks to sing and record several times a week. I have already recorded vocals for 24 songs and have 14 left. My voice teacher, Kimberly Haynes, continues to help me sing freely with a great connection to my vocal chords. Also, once a week I work on song arrangements with my arranger George.

My divorce will probably become final around the end of the year. I hope you are well and appreciate all of the support you have given me.

Love, Judy

I am so thankful for my mother’s companion, Miriam, who keeps my mother smiling. I feel very close to her, because she has made such a difference to our family with her devotion to my mother.

Recently, Miriam had a birthday. She cryed with joy as we celebrated it.

Recently, Miriam had a birthday. She cried with joy when we celebrated it.

Guess which is the most important tool I use while illustrating? My iPod!

© 2013 by Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tags:acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, beautiful music, Caregiving, childhood friendship, composing, creativity, escape through music, guitar, hopefulness, humor daily life, inspiration, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, metaphors, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, musical comfort, musical inspiration, my dream, optimism, original songs, princess metaphor, singing, songwriting, writing
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FINDING MY VOICE – PART 2

March 13, 2013

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

I have created images for all of my song stories. I am sharing some of my cover images still in development. This one is for my story “One Day She Began To Play.”

“Setting Myself Free”

Currently, it has been discouraging for me. I have not seen any improvement with the fogginess in my left eye and it even seems to have worsened. A little over a month ago, I had an episode where a large floater formed when the gel in my eye separated from the back of my eye wall. I was told it was a common occurrence. Three ophthalmologists told me that my vision would eventually improve and that the blurriness was due to retinal blood that would be absorbed over time. Fortunately, I did not have a retinal detachment.

At the end of this week, I am getting yet another opinion with a doctor outside my HMO, this time at my own expense. I am doing this due to the suggestion of my good friend, Dr. Sam, whom I reconnected with when I first began writing my blog.

I cannot write about many of the things that are going on in my life. With my divorce still pending, it would be inappropriate to share much. I can say that the lawyers have been negotiating; our home went on sale four days ago and it looks like it will sell quickly.

I have missed writing my true feelings. I long to express so much and the words tear at me. It has been easier for me to live within my song lyrics and music. When I am overwhelmed, singing allows me to heal.

I did not sing at all for over thirty years. When my journey began in 2010, I took lessons at a public park with Peaches Chrenko. We worked together for over two years until Peaches moved away in August of 2012, shortly before I separated from my husband.

After I moved out, I longed to sing again. I remember I heard a wonderful woman sing at a friend’s event. I wrote her name down. At the end of 2012, I looked her up with the intention of taking voice lessons again. This was during a time when my financial situation was tenuous, but I knew it was temporary. My new life was about healing myself and trusting my instincts.

The voice lessons with my new teacher, Kimberly Haynes, brought joy back into my life.

Almost immediately, I noticed that I had a new awareness whenever I sang. I became an “instrument” every time I opened my mouth. I celebrated my progress and marveled at how much better my songs sounded.

As a result of my glorious improvement, I decided I would record new vocals for 17 songs on the music CD that will accompany my audiobook. This was such a difficult decision for me to make. It will involve hundreds of hours and delay the release of my book by approximately six months.

Even though I am anxious to share my book and music, I feel strongly that my new voice is far more important for my story than anything else. My journey has always been about following my heart, and my heart has told me that I will have a far greater impact with my new voice.

It is not about technique either; it’s about truly expressing myself.

For me, singing has always been about sharing my emotion with my lyrics.

I never liked my voice when I was younger. After not singing for decades, over the last three years I have continued to remain very insecure about my singing ability. Whenever I have tried to sing more forcefully, I hear tightness and have pitch issues. I learned to counter this by singing soft and breathy.

The most amazing part is how much my music and my life are intertwined!

It is no coincidence that last week I began arranging one of my favorite older songs entitled “How We Don’t Care.” My song is all about poor communication and not expressing true feelings. The chords reflect sadness and the haunting music below reflects my mood perfectly. (even though I have not yet sung a vocal for it).

Click the blue link below to play audio of my arrangement in progress:

HOW WE DON’T CARE – Karaoke in progress

Click the blue link to play audio of an older arrangement of this song:

HOW WE DON’T CARE-6/12/12

I wrote my song when I was 19 years old and dealing with a painful friendship at the time. But “How We Don’t Care” is how I operated for decades in my marriage.

For most of my life, I have suppressed most of my feelings. From the time I was young, I never felt safe expressing anger and preferred instead to shove it away deep inside. Also, since ending my marriage I have been numb with guilt.

My inner voice encouraged me to sing because singing is actually a perfect metaphor for freeing myself.

I could not achieve the vocal results I wanted because I was afraid to sing loudly. It felt risky for me and I did not like to hear what I perceived as a harsh tone. It led to breathiness overall – I believed that it was prettier. The irony was that when I was younger (prior to marriage), I sang loudly without fear!

The suppression of my singing came from erroneous beliefs. The muscles to create that breathy tone completely blocked my singing mechanism. There was more than one way to sing, and I didn’t need to only sing softly. This was definitely a parallel to how I often never spoke my true feelings. I softened them by laughing, but I seethed inside. I felt hatred during my marriage and was often angry.

I hid it from everyone, including myself.

I never even discussed with my husband why I wanted a divorce. Even after counseling, our habit was to avoid any kind of conflict. Our divorce was ultimately the first and final conflict.

My present situation is beyond awkward. He is very angry, but doesn’t show it. This certainly has come to me with clear messages delivered by our children.

Sadly, I thought I deserved it. I was the instigator. I felt like I had destroyed the very family I devoted myself to for decades.

I’ve decided that I have suffered enough. It is time for me to move forward. Finding my voice and freeing it is a step in that direction.

A picture when I graduated from college.

A picture from when I graduated college.

Below are lesson excerpts from my recent lessons with Kimberly Hanes, whom I find completely inspirational. Click the blue link to play audio:

LESSON KIMBERLY 3/10/13 BLOG EXCERPT A

LESSON KIMBERLY 3/10/13 BLOG EXCERPT B

LESSON KIMBERLY 3/10/13 BLOG EXCERPT C-

Kimberly has been very clear that my voice is something I need “to own.” She encourages me to have faith about where I am going and what I am doing. In order to open up my voice, I need to stop inhibiting myself and just “allow it to fly.”

She has been very concerned about how much I am influenced by other people’s input.

Two weeks ago, Kimberly was sick with bronchitis and cancelled our lesson. She cancelled again last week, with a message that she was not quite well enough to teach yet.

The day before our cancelled lesson, I sent her a message. I told her that if she was well enough, I would love to still come and hang out with her – she could just listen to my latest recordings and give me input instead of our regular lesson. I did not expect her to sing for me and wasn’t worried about catching anything.

I missed our lessons and was becoming frustrated. Over the past weeks, I could tell I had regressed. Old habits and patterns seemed so difficult for me to discard.

I was grateful when Kimberly said she would see me.

Our lesson put me back on track and lifted me right up. Although Kimberly was not up to par, it was so great to be with her. Even with bronchitis, she was the true professional and continued to guide me through several songs. We spent a lot of time on my song “Set You Free.”

There was one part in my song that required singing the words “set you free” in my high register. I struggled with it over and over.

But at the end of our lesson something clicked for me. It was a tiny incremental adjustment, a feeling that was difficult to describe. I came home and began singing. I could hear the difference. It was easy to make this change and was something I had been afraid to do. But I wasn’t afraid of it anymore.

I understood now. I was going to allow myself to use my vocal cords and to sing with my true voice. I didn’t need to sing breathy anymore.

I had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours editing songs for many months. It turned out that my artistic skill now translated into amazing musical editing skills. I could achieve much of what I wanted for my songs without concentrating on truly singing.

But it turned out that singing was exactly what I needed to do now. The editing would assist me, for sure. None of my learning was wasted and I decided to look at everything leading up to this as part of my journey.

“Libra vs. Libra”

Two weeks ago, I allowed one of my song instrumentals to be used on an astrological website in Finland. I wrote a brief story to go with the page “Libra vs. Libra.”

I hadn’t touched base with friends and family in awhile, so this was a great opportunity to share a link with them:

http://astrolitarian.com/libra-woman-libra-man/

I was thrilled when I heard back from my former voice teacher, Peaches. She congratulated me and told me she thought of me often. I wrote her back with the following update:

Oh Peaches, it was great to hear from you! I always think of you and miss you terribly. How are you doing? I would love to catch up.

I have written two new songs since you moved and they are very touching for me. One is “Angel In the Sky” and the other one is called “Music Saved Me.” You are with me in all of my songs; I learned so much from you!

Because I was so forlorn, I started taking voice lessons again. My new teacher’s name is Kimberly Haynes.

Finally, I realize that I need to be open to concentrating on vocal technique. (I still talk too much during lessons). The other part is practicing. (Like Steve Martin, I want results without exercising). I wish I could say that I could sing freely in my new apartment, but I can’t. My two teenagers hate it. So I go out and practice in my car.

With my sadness, I sing a lot and I’ve improved as a result. I am attaching one my new songs; it’s about music saving me. Music is like god for me!

I moved out in October. The divorce part isn’t easy, but I’ve adjusted. The hardest part of my life right now is my eyesight. I had three cataract surgeries (an additional surgery due to a complication) and then a month ago I had another problem. I have one eye that is completely blurry and that has left me in a deep depression.

I’ve decided to wait on emerging from the curtain. I’m going to redo all my song vocals one more time after thousands of hours editing them. I’ve improved tremendously and feel much more connected with my songs now, too.

Music is definitely saving me! I miss you,

Love, Judy

The night I decided to write this post, I found this old fortune cookie wrapper in my jacket pocket. It was definitely a sign for me since I planned to write about discovering patience in my life.

THE PRINCESS AND THE RAINBOW IN HER HEART

The princess was determined, but she was getting tired. She surveyed the burnt landscape in the distance. Ahead of her were miles to go, but with intense focus she placed one foot in front of the other. Her older children walked alongside of her. She noticed that she did not hold their hands anymore.

The new landscape was peaceful, but her journey had been exhausting. When she began her travels, she had been filled with excitement. Now she was calm, but joyless. She understood why she wasn’t dancing; eventually she hoped she’d reach an uplifting destination.

Even though her journey took her through a drab landscape, she felt inspired by the beautiful music that accompanied her.

She felt strong, despite her fatigue. What buoyed her the most was singing. When she sang, music poured over her soul and washed away every ounce of pain. Each melody and musical note caressed her wounds. Her gratefulness for this magical elixir was endless. It was her special gift.

Whenever she felt lonely, she shared it. It helped her when she was able to touch and heal other sad people. At the same time, it gave her clarity about her journey and her beautiful destination.

The farther away she was from the dragon, the more confused she became. She was still worried about him and knew that he was burning himself up in the smoky castle. He needed to leave and she needed her belongings. She wanted what she rightfully hers after so many years with him. There was no escaping him because he was also connected to their children.

She disliked the dragon, but adored their children. For such a long time, she had devoted herself to her family. But the dragon was miserable and unhappy with his life. The dragon did not have a clue how to change anything, and was not even aware of the wicked spell that had caused him to change from a prince into a dragon. The princess felt that he blamed her for his unhappiness.

But when she discovered her own happiness, she decided to escape. She still worried about the dragon, but she knew she needed to save herself; otherwise they both would perish. Her courage came to her through her own song lyrics.

She felt smoke pouring out of her soul as she escaped.

Just as she anticipated, she could hear the dragon roaring in pain in the distance. His screams were silent, but reverberated deeply in her heart. His hatred for her was sharper than any sword and pierced deeply into her heart.

She understood his hatred; she had betrayed his trust. She disliked the dragon, but she did not allow herself to feel hatred. Thinking how their love had changed was too painful. She was confused and numb.

Onward she trudged forward; she was certain her destination was growing closer. Her determination grew even fiercer and she neglected herself. She had stopped looking at the horizon or at her surroundings. It was then when she realized that it was difficult for her to see where she was going.

It was not nightfall, but an impenetrable fog had surrounded her. She tried to be calm and discover what had happened.

It turned out her vision had changed.

With every ounce of her being she tried to accept it and stay positive. The worst part was that she could no longer see where she was going. Sad questions swirled within her. How could she be afflicted with this burden when she was already coping with a great deal? The unfairness sometimes overwhelmed her, but she did not want to allow for self-pity.

She decided that she would continue her journey despite the fog. Onward and onward she plodded, but she realized she was lost now. Without music she would have fallen into dark holes in the landscape ahead of her. Her music swirled around her and glowed so she was safe.

She began to run into things and stumble. Her frustration grew deeper and she realized she could not continue. The fog had become too much to bear; everything was out of focus and it hurt to even open her eyes. She sobbed as she collapsed near the edge of a dark hole. The music stopped and there was only silence.

Where was her inner voice? She knew that she had ignored everything in order to move forward; perhaps her inner voice had left her also. As she lay on the ground, she begged her inner voice for help.

Tears coursed down her cheeks when she finally received an answer. Her inner voice told her there was only one word that would help her now. She listened carefully.

The word echoed deeply throughout her mind. It was “patience.”

Patience: the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.

It was interesting for her when she looked up the definition. She studied it in order to understand what was required of her. There was no question that she often struggled with angry and upset feelings. They were taboo for her.

The part about accepting her eyesight problem and delaying releasing her audio-book were also huge.

She had changed her focus from enjoying her journey toward searching for a destination. What had happened to the joy? That was most definitely her message and the reason she had the courage to change her life.

She realized there truly was no destination in her life until she died.

It turned out that her destination was all about rushing to prove her worth to others.

Although she was anxious to help other people, that could continue. She knew she was still the richest princess in the world; whether or not anyone else knew it was not important.

She rested and allowed for more and more music. Even though her world was gray, she traveled inside her heart. She closed her eyes and discovered that within her heart was a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors that she missed so much. Whenever she sang, colors beamed from her body and light surrounded her.

The days marched onward. She continued singing and it eased everything painful in her life as all sorrow flowed out from her heart. Her emotional melodies transcended everything she had ever done before.

It truly was all about patience.

She was forced to stop plodding in order to find the rainbow in her heart. Her vision would return when it was time. She was filled with acceptance as she lifted her eyes into the sky and thanked her inner voice.

Her inner voice gently replied:

“Your journey has taken you to this place now. It is important that you rest and find comfort with your rainbow inside. Your gift was always there. You are finally understanding it and expressing it. Although you are eager to share yourself with the world, your voice is a gift to help you through the darkness.

Allow your heart to heal because you are going to connect with a million souls when you are ready.”

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com. 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tags:Astrolitarian, divorce, divorce and separation, expressing feelings, finding my voice, gray divorce, inner voice, inspiration, Kimberly Haynes, Libra Vs. Libra, loss, metaphors about singing, Music, optimism, original songs, separation, separation after a long marriage, singing, singing lessons, singing openly, singing voice, songwriter, songwriting, staying positive, the princess and the dragon, vocal coaching, vocal concepts, vocal lessons, vocal techniques, vocalizing, voice lessons, writing
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LIEBSTER AWARD

February 25, 2013

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

I want to thank Tersia Burger. She has nominated me for the Liebster Award.

Tersia writes with heartbreaking honesty. Her writing about her daughter’s life and death really affected me. Tersia’s blog impacted me so much that I dedicated one of my songs to her daughter, Vicky:

Never Gone Away.

It amazes me how as a result of blogging, I’ve formed a wonderful friendship on the other side of the world. Here is a link that shares more about our friendship when it began:

Music Rescued My Soul

Tersia honors me by nominating me for the Liebster award and I humbly accept!

http://tersiaburger.com/tag/liebster-award/

Rules of The Liebster Award

1. You must thank the person who gave you this award

2. You must display the Liebster heart on your blog

3. You should nominate 7 other blogs

4. Each person must post 11 things about themselves

5. Answer the questions given to you by the blogger who nominated you

6. Create 11 questions for those you nominate to answer

7. Notify your nominees and provide a link back to your post

Seven Blogs I Nominate:

http://lunasmoondance.wordpress.com/

http://dailydivorcemeditations.wordpress.com/

http://doyleswidow.wordpress.com/

http://onewomansperspective02.wordpress.com/

http://littlestarslost.wordpress.com/

http://kloppenmum.wordpress.com/

http://wordsfallfrommyeyes.wordpress.com/

11 Things About Me:

1. My children are everything to me.

2. I am amazed at how many chords and lyrics I have memorized. I’ve composed well over 40 original songs and can play all of them by heart. The guitar parts can be quite complicated and some songs are played in several keys. I still remember many of the several hundred cover-songs I used to play, too.

3. I refused to learn how to use a computer and avoided learning to email for many years. So now I am very proud of how proficient I’ve become. I’ve found the computer is an incredible tool that truly assists me with music, art and writing. My excellent English and typing skills have been very useful for blogging. I am adept with Photoshop; it also has been very handy for me. I am proud and grateful that I embraced the digital age after resisting it for so long. I can’t wait to start recording my second audio book!

4. When I began my blog and started writing in 2010, I never would have believed it would lead to me to the decision to divorce my husband after 31 years of marriage.

5. Occasionally, I miss painting with watercolors, but my passion for art has been overshadowed by music. When I record and hear a new song, my heart bursts with joy. I usually cry when I’m singing. My songs are like babies. Nothing moves me like music.

6. I treasure my smile. I love to laugh and enjoy telling puns. It both irritates and amazes my friends.

7. I am very dangerous on the tennis court. All of the women whom I play women’s doubles with would agree. It is such great therapy for me to hit a tennis ball. Unfortunately, it is embarrassing when it rockets into my opponent’s face!

8. Although my mother has dementia and cannot understand much, she lights up when we’re together and exudes deep love for me. I bask in her light and appreciate that I’ve had her as long as I have; she is a miraculous survivor. She inspires me with her ability to hang in there, and I believe it’s because of her deep love for life and family.

9. I miss my father who died last year. But I feel him with me, especially since I sleep in the same bed and bedroom where he used to.

10. I love to write and express myself. My guitar is my best friend. I especially love dreaming about where my life will go. But if it remains the way it is now, I’m perfectly fine with that.

11. I am extremely open and honest. I can easily share my intimate feelings. My music rediscovery blossomed as a result of my opening up and I know that I’ve touched many people with my writing and music. When I began my blog, I shared many personal details about my children because my life was focused upon them for many years. I am grateful that I was able to move from writing about them to discovering my own life!

MY ELEVEN QUESTIONS TO ANSWER FROM TERSIA:

1) Are you addicted to your STATS?

Unfortunately, yes. Sometimes, I’ve added up the minutes per day checking them and realize it takes up a lot of my time. But I keep doing it!

2) What country do you live in?

The United States.

3) How many friends would you have on a major birthday party guest list?

I loved my fiftieth birthday where my dear tennis friends surrounded me. I also loved my fortieth birthday, which was a surprise party given to me by Norm and Jo (my brother and sister-in-law) and my parents. For my next major party (sixtieth) I’d definitely want my children there and perhaps 20 friends.

4) What is your favourite post?

My favorite post on my blog is: All I have left after the death of my child. I love it because it crystallizes everything that I express with my writing and music. The picture of my deceased son, Jason, biking with ET, gets me every time. He was such a happy child!

Inspiring hope of healing is what Jason wants me to share with the world. Our love is as deep as it was when I last cradled him in my arms, even though it has been twenty years since he died.

–

5) Who is your inspiration when writing?

Since childhood, I’ve written hearing a voice in my mind that I’ve called “Judy of the Future.” I always listen for her wise voice. I do believe that God inspires me now. I lived without faith and disliked religion for years, even more so after my son’s death. But now I feel blessed and inspired. I understand my purpose in life and accept that I’ll die someday. My life is precious.

6) Introvert or extrovert?

Both. I love playing my guitar and writing while alone. I also love sharing with other people. I have a lot to say in both cases!

7) Why do you read my blog?

I came across your blog, Tersia, while searching for blogs about grief. I wanted to carry my message of hopefulness to people in deep grief. But your blog had me bawling because unlike helping people who have lost a child, your daughter was still alive and suffering. I couldn’t imagine anything I could do to help. I didn’t expect to hear back from you when I shared my song “Set You Free.” Then you turned my world upside down by posting it and announcing how my song helped you. What more is there in life than to make a difference to another human? When you told me that Vicky listened to my music while she was dying; I cried picturing that!

8) Favourite quote?

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” Norman Cousins

9) Favourite holiday location?

Right where I am. Since I’ve given myself permission to pursue my passionate love for writing and music – my life is like a holiday. I am a workaholic who doesn’t feel like it’s work.

10) How long have you been writing?

I discovered I loved writing in the sixth grade when I was eleven years old. My teacher was certain I’d be published someday. I tried to share with her that I published a maze book when I was in eighth grade, but she had already moved away and I didn’t know how to contact her.

–

Autograph Book from Elementary School

11) Favourite TV show?

This is hard to answer. It’s embarrassing because I hate television with a passion. It was always turned on in my bedroom and I searched for ways to ignore it; listening to music helped somewhat. If I could travel back in time to when I did enjoy TV, it was a very long time ago. Okay, here it is: Thirtysomething. It was such a wonderful show and I still remember many of the episodes.

I love old pictures. I was about 9 years old in this photo with my mother and brother, Norm.

11 Questions For My Nominees:

1. Are you able to express your true feelings? When you can’t, how do you deal with it?

2. Do you wake up to write because it can’t wait?

3. Do you love chocolate? If not, what is your favorite delight?

4. Is exercise a chore or something you enjoy?

5. Do you imagine what you will be doing ten years from now? Will you be happier?

6. What is your favorite color and how does it make you feel?

7. Are you good about backing up your computer?

8. What is your favorite song that moves you?

9. What is your favorite post on your blog?

10. Do you dream?

“You’ve inspired me to write – Part 1”

I love inspiring other people.

A week ago, I spoke to a woman named Carol whom I reached out to on a Facebook grief site. We had some lovely exchanges, which I’ve already shared on my blog.

Last week, I received a message from Carol with a request from her for us to talk on the telephone. We both live on opposite coasts of the USA; Carol lives in New Jersey and I live in Los Angeles.

I called her and we were both on the phone for two hours. Carol wanted to discuss ways that I could share my music and writing with more people. It was very exciting for me to hear her ideas. I began to dream again about where my book and music would go.

Finally, I told her I was tired. I was going to go and pluck my guitar before going to bed.

I ended up propping up the phone on my music stand and playing a concert for her!

I sang while bending over near the phone. When I finished my first song, I picked up the phone. It was quiet, so I said, “Carol, are you still there?”

I heard a sniffle and her voice was teary as she said, “Oh my god, oh my god, you are making me cry – keep it coming, girl!”

I couldn’t believe that I was playing my guitar to someone I had just met over the phone!

Our exchange ended with Carol gushing, “Judy, you’ve inspired me to write again! My family can’t believe it. I made them all listen to your audio stories – it was important for me to do that because I wanted them to understand the depth of my pain losing my son. You have an amazing way of conveying that. I want to thank you for changing my life!”

This was taken at an open-mic performance where I courageously sang without my guitar!

“You’ve inspired me to write – Part 2”

I was smiling when I saw that Tersia had nominated me for the Liebster Award. I needed that smile because my day had been particularly challenging.

Tersia had posted something about eagles two days before. After studying the requirements for my Liebster Award, I carefully re-read her earlier post. It was all about eagle chicks and what their mother would do in order to teach them to fly.

Her post had me rolling on the floor. It was such a perfect post for my day! I was completely stressed out from issues with both my teenagers.

I wondered how in the world I was going to keep pushing my children without being hated! This was the hardest job in the world and I wished I knew what to do. But after reading about eagle moms, I had a much lighter feeling and a far better perspective. Instead of worrying whether my children might hate me, I needed to continue pushing because otherwise I would actually cripple them.

This was her post and I highly recommend it to any parent with teenagers: I WANT TO BE AN EAGLE

Though I appreciated Tersia’s timing, I was very sad to read that she felt she had smothered her daughter; she ached because her daughter never had the chance to leave her nest. Tersia’s longing and torment was inconsolable.

Suddenly, I felt compelled to write a story about Tersia and Vicky. It was so vivid! I emailed my story to Tersia and this was what she wrote back to me:

“Thank you Judy for writing Vic and my story. I have decided to try to publish a book on Vic’s journey. I don’t have a clue how to go about it but I know, that with your permission, this will be the foreword of the book! Thank you, dear friend.”

ANGEL MOMMY AND ANGEL BABY

The mommy eagle awaited the arrival of her baby chick. But when the time came, her baby was flaccid and close to death. There was little chance her sickly baby would survive. The eagle mom decided to name her child angel baby and prayed she would not lose her. The name was perfect, because her baby continued to live despite all odds.

But the eagle mom was not an ordinary mom; she was actually an angel mom and that was why an angel baby was borne to her. Both of them were special beyond description and surprisingly, neither one knew it.

But everyone around else did. There was no other explanation as to how her baby chick survived. It definitely was miraculous.

Every ounce of the angel mom’s soul went into helping her baby survive. Her baby fiercely clung to survival because of her mother’s love.

While other eagle mom’s had babies that flew, this angel mom had a child that would never fly. How she wished she could help her baby! She decided that not only would she devote herself to her child’s survival, she would teach her sickly angel baby to fly without ever leaving the nest! There were other ways her baby could fly and together they discovered beautiful ways.

It was their secret and her angel baby loved flying. She closed her eyes when she flew; her beauty was exquisite and she glowed.

Angel mom was so devoted to her baby that she never allowed herself to fly. She chose to only fly while holding onto her baby. She never understood that it was this connection that actually gave her baby the ability to fly.

Soon her baby eagle grew up. Her angel baby treasured her amazing life. Her ability to fly without wings was a secret. To outsiders, she appeared to be a suffering and deformed creature.

Eventually though, it was time for the angel chick to fly alone; now she would go to places in heaven. And one day, she would be reunited with her angel mom and together they would fly again.

When angel baby left for heaven, angel mom was heartbroken and suffered horribly. Even though this was something both of them had anticipated for a long time, angel mom had no idea what to do.

Angel mom cried and cried. She wondered why other people had babies that could easily fly and didn’t leave for heaven prematurely. Typically, babies were set free to live.

Instead, she was forced to set her baby free flying to heaven!

Even though she had helped her angel baby to fly secretly during her difficult life, angel mom had no idea how to fly herself.

She was tormented with longing for her angel baby and felt truly alone.

Angel baby didn’t want to leave and was very worried about her angel mommy. In her short life, angel baby touched many people with her courage. She actually flew farther than any eagle could.

She decided to carry a message to her mother. She whispered a story to a friend to share with her angel mommy.

With her story, angel baby reminded her mommy that setting her free was beautiful; just as she had gifted her with life, she had gifted her with death.

All children must be set free. Angel baby wanted to thank her mom and remind her mommy it was time for her to learn to fly. It was never too late!

Angel baby wanted her mommy to know that she was capable of flying. Angel mom would inspire many others to join her while she soared.

Tags:"sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, awards, blogger, child's death, composing, creativity, Daily Life, daughter vicky, death of a child, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, guitar, hopefulness, http://dailydivorcemeditations.wordpress.com/, http://doyleswidow.wordpress.com/, http://kloppenmum.wordpress.com/, http://littlestarslost.wordpress.com/, http://lunasmoondance.wordpress.com/, http://onewomansperspective02.wordpress.com/, http://tersiaburger.com/tag/liebster-award/, http://wordsfallfrommyeyes.wordpress.com/, Humor, humor daily life, inspiration, Liebster Award, loss, lovesong, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, optimism, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, Tersia Burger, writing
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IT FEELS SO DARK, THE SKY IS GRAY – PART 2

January 31, 2013

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

I’ve had my share of hurdles in life. Sometimes, I wonder why challenges continue to nip at my heels; it’s been one thing after another for years. But I have always prided myself for coping well and maintaining a positive attitude.

Two weeks ago, something unexpected was thrown at me. It was insidious that it happened just as I was feeling better about life in general.

Navigating living separately from my husband after 31 years of marriage was already enough for me to deal with. But as I sat eating my lunch on a lovely Saturday, I experienced a strange sensation in my left eye and watched an inky black blob snake across my field of vision. It curled into many interesting shapes until it became a shower of tiny black dots. After that, the visual field in that eye became gray.

I drove myself to Urgent Care right away.

Two years ago, I experienced a severe burn on my arm. My father died last May. I’ve had three cataract surgeries in the last six months. My mother continues to deteriorate with her dementia.

None of those challenges depressed me like this one. This one knocked me to the ground.

I found myself lying there, and it was very hard to get up.

I was distraught because my left eye annoyed me every second of my day. It felt like gray gossamer webs were inside my eye. My brain screamed loudly, “You cannot see and this is intolerable!”

Three ophthalmologists examined me since my “incident.” What happened was that the vitreous gel in my eye shrunk and pulled away from the eye wall. It did not tear my retina (for which I am thankful), but there was blood involved. I was told that this was a normal part of the aging process and I would adjust to my large new floater. The blurriness was a result of the blood that would eventually be reabsorbed.

I was calm at all of my appointments except the third one. That day, I saw the eye surgeon who performed my cataract surgeries. I cried to him. He probably felt he was comforting me when he said my condition would eventually improve. But he said that I wouldn’t notice improvement for months and it would take a year before the grayness and blurriness diminished.

I put on sunglasses and cried as I drove home. My eye surgeon had made many optimistic statements, which I wanted to hold onto.

My condition was normal.

I didn’t need eye surgery for a retinal detachment.

Eventually, things would improve.

But at that moment, my vision was cloudy, so I wanted to close my eyes. I dreamed I’d awaken with decent eyesight. I couldn’t stop crying. Suddenly, I had entered a new tunnel of grief.

I plodded through each day and suffered more than I had in a long time. I wasn’t sure how I could overcome this!

I decided to write something that would utilize tenants from hypnotherapy. It was about ways that I could look at my situation. I began with simple sentences that I heard in my mind. I thought of ways I could reshuffle the words in order to help myself feel better.

My blurry gray vision.

I hate it! It hurts to open both my eyes and look at the world. I can’t stop crying. I want to curl up and go back to sleep. I pray I’ll wake up and it will be better.

Can I live with

my blurry gray vision?

My answer is, “NO! I cannot live with this.” But, I have no choice about it and nothing can change it. Yet, it is so annoying and distracting. It screams over every other thought in my brain. Why do I have to live with this? I have too many questions, and none of them are helpful.

How

can I live with

my blurry gray vision?

I have no idea how I can function with this. I am struggling. I want to cry and complain, but since I hate to do that – it’s best that I hide from the world. Too much patience is required for this. I want the time to pass so I can see again.

I wonder

how I can live with

my blurry gray vision.

There are many people in the world who have adjusted to a loss of eyesight – my own mother has macular degeneration. If they could adjust, then I could also. How fortunate I am that I have a condition that is likely to heal and improve.

A photo with my father, taken when I was 15. He died eight months ago.

All my self-talk wasn’t helping and I was still miserable. I listened for my inner voice. When I heard that voice, I received quite a lecture.

My inner voice told me this:

You keep telling grieving people to “hold on to hope” and “hang on.” Listen to your own words about how it will get better someday.

Your misery is a reminder that you did not have adequate empathy.

Healing from grief detached you from the suffering. Therefore, this is a lesson for you.

When someone is suffering, knowing that the pain might get better some day scarcely alleviates the agony in the moment.

Remember when you wrote that healing is about acceptance and change?

That is exactly what you need to do! The aging process is about accepting that our bodies will never be young again.

Stop looking at the gray and find color in a different way. Close your eyes if you have to!

Below is my correspondence on a grief forum that took place several weeks before my eye injury. My words are in bold.

Message on a grief forum:

What if you aren’t feeling God around you at all? I am very angry with him and have many questions. I ask my questions out loud all the time. Well, I yell them.

My faith is shattered.

I think it is fairly impossible to find faith when everything you believed in has been shattered. The death of your beloved son is senseless and tragic. Allow yourself to feel all of your feelings. Express them. Yell and scream; cry and question. Don’t let anyone tell you it is wrong!

Denying those feelings leads to numbness. You are moving forward in your grief now. This is part of it. You may never find your faith again. But you wrote shattered – not gone. One day you might decide to pick up the pieces. When and only when you are ready.

Thanks, Judy. This process is getting harder not easier…. the more time, the more pain. It hurts to breathe. I lost my Mother when I was 18 and was devastated…. but this loss has crushed my soul.

I think there is a horrible realization that comes after the first year. Perhaps it has come to you already.

We live in a world where people think you can get on with your life and get over grief quickly. It is impossible to do this with the loss of a child. I have connected with many bereaved parents. My take is that the first year is a horror with all the “firsts” – the first Mother’s Day – the first Birthday – every holiday is torture.

Then comes the second year – it isn’t better. That is when the horrible realization comes. It is worse – not better. How is that possible? It continues into the third year and on and on. The years go by. One day that horrible realization turns into the sad fact that there is no going back. Acceptance still seems impossible and our child never ages. Each milestone hurts, especially when friends the age our child was grow up. I would think “he would be graduating this year, or driving, or going on his first date.”

I was told 7 years until the agony subsided. It is hard to hang on. Surround yourself with people who understand. Allow yourself any moment of peace or comfort. I have always said that my survival of grief was my greatest achievement in life. I don’t know that many people survive this kind of loss intact. Your soul is amputated, crushed and mutilated. You are still bleeding.

One day the bleeding will stop. Just keep reminding yourself that your son is holding you close and wanting you to survive this. Don’t believe that by finding comfort and moments of peace, you are forgetting him. Do whatever you can to survive and feel better.

I am certain you will emerge into sunshine. Grief is different for everyone and perhaps it won’t take 7 years. For me, the process of healing started slowly before that, but I wasn’t willing to acknowledge it. Look for signs of healing and you will see them. But now it is too soon.

Love, Judy

© 2013 Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tags:compassionate friends, death, death of a child, discouraged, eye issues, eyesight and aging, floaters, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, having hope, healing, healing and grief, Hypnotherapy, inspiration, loss, optimism, Ordinary Life, retinal blood, separation, writing
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HOW CAN I BELIEVE?

January 7, 2013

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

I love illustrating butterflies and this is an assortment I’ve named “Fantasy Butterflies”

I share here an instrumental of a very special song, which can be heard by clicking the blue link below:

MORE THAN YOU KNOW INSTRUMENTAL

My post title comes from the lyrics to my song “More Than You Know.” The full line is, “How can I believe when the warmth of you did leave?” It actually refers to my ability to go on living after seeing my five-year-old son dead. That image haunted me for years; picturing his open eyes and blackened lips. His body was ice cold and I held onto him and didn’t want to let go!

Not too long ago, I wrote about Relinda. She is a grieving widow and her writing has moved me very much. More about her and her unsparing words are on my post entitled: YOU HAVE NO HOPE.

Today, another widow left a comment on Relinda’s blog:

Dear Relinda,

I have been reading through your blog, so much of what you’ve said could have come from my hand. My husband left our life one year, four months and four days ago, but I’m not keeping track.

This particular blog about the “vacation” really struck me more than the others. This life I find myself in isn’t comfortable, it has no warmth, no appeal, it isn’t mine and I want to go back home. But home isn’t there anymore, it’s an empty lot – the house is gone and only the memories of it remain.  Like you I am so tired of all the bullshit lines we feed ourselves – truth be told the only way any of this could get better, would be if I had a time machine and went back to when my life was mine. I hope someday that maybe those of us that just exist will feel a little life once again.

Karen

I want to share Relinda’s post and then I want to respond. Relinda’s post title is a link back to her blog.

Vacationing in Hell

This is the longest vacation I have ever experienced. It began the day the doctors said there was nothing more they could do. It continues years later. I always thought of vacationing as an escape from the monotonous realities of everyday life. Vacationing in hell is much different. It is a place where you accept the realities and disappointments that come with living, embrace them wholeheartedly and recognize that it is a vacation from which you will never return home until the day you die. Welcome to hell.

Astonishingly, my house looks the same if you overlook the absence of laughter and the immaculate kitchen. That is the first thing you notice upon arrival to hell—the silence. It is so loud that when I enter a room, I can hear my heart pounding inside my head. Ironic that silence is actually the loudest noise in the universe. Sometimes I can hear echoes of laughter from my real life. It is very faint. There was so much laughter in this place before that I suppose it is inevitable that some imprint seeps through the walls.

There are not fires and brimstone as depicted in sermons. There are the usual disappointments, but new ones surface each day. Disappointments such as realizing you will never again know the simple joy of sharing a banana split with your best friend in the world. Disappointments such as knowing that you will never again experience the fun of dancing in the rain with someone you love. Disappointments such as knowing that every trip you make will be alone. Knowing that any accomplishment you reach will never be celebrated is one of the harshest disappointments.

I want to return from my vacation in hell, but it was a one-way ticket. “Life is what we make it.” If I had fucking known that, I would have molded it differently. I would still be whole. I would not have buried you. I would not dread waking each morning.

“Time heals all wounds.” Bullshit. Some wounds cannot be healed, especially while you are vacationing in hell. “Prayer fixes everything,” really? Because it did not work so well for me. I think we pull cute little quotes such as these out of our asses while under the illusion that they make people feel better. They do not.

So, here I am, sending you a postcard from hell. The weather is lovely this time of year. All I really want is to go home though. I want a ticket home. Perhaps there is some type of lottery in which one can win a ticket home. If only someone would send me home. I cannot get there myself. This vacation blows.

©Relinda R.

Dear Karen and Relinda,

You will not hear me say, “Time heals.” I have said that hearts can heal and it happens unconsciously. Even joy is possible, because that happened for me.

That is not the same thing as expecting that time will heal us. I do believe that time lends some anesthesia to the gut-wrenching pain, but for those who succumb to their grief it is too late. Grief certainly wrecks lives and destroys a person’s health over time.

Healing from grief is torturous hard work. Many people don’t believe they will heal and I was one of those people. Healing isn’t about fixing anything so that it goes back to how it was. Those scars are forever. And nothing heals when it festers either. In my fourth year of bereavement I wrote: How can my heart ever heal when it continues to bleed? The answer was that it couldn’t!

Take your postcard from Hell, Relinda and put it somewhere. It will be a postcard to remind you of the place where you never want to go back to. Your own words unconsciously gave your post a perfect title. You see; a vacation is a place to visit. One does not associate a vacation with living somewhere.

That is true. You are not really living.

You cannot go home either. There is no home for you to go back to.

That is the sad nature of grief. We grieve for the person we lost that we loved. Then we grieve for our former life and the innocent, naïve person we were before grief slaughtered our existence.

Therefore, your post title was a perfect description of where you are right now.

I do not know about your personal grief or anyone else’s. I share my optimism because with grief there is so little. We live in a world where grieving is supposed to quickly end; we’re told to just “get on with our life.” Amazingly, there is a belief that after one year a person should be “over it.” Those platitudes such as “time heals,” usually aren’t coming from someone who has suffered a loss of a magnitude such as yours.

It has been three years for you. I can share what I’ve observed through my connections with many bereaved people. I’m talking about people who seriously wanted to die.

The second through fifth years are quite horrible. I don’t usually like to go to a place of honesty about how many years I suffered with grief. But I still remember when another bereaved mother told me that it took seven years for her to live without extreme agony.

That was absolutely true for me, as well.

I think the reason the second year and those that follow are so hard is that the reality has truly begun to sink in. The first year is all about coping with the horror. By now though, it has become apparent that the horror is permanent and goes on forever. That is quite impossible to grasp.

How do you cope with the hell? You just do the best you can, and the two words I often used to help myself were: hang on. Surrounding yourself with people who understand is important. Expressing your pain is also helpful and you do that very well.

I am sorry for the horror you are living with. I am sorry for anyone entering this vacation in hell.

I am waiting for you to write the post with the title “Moving into my new home.” You get to leave the horror and move to a place that is quite different from where you began. I do hear some hopefulness with your words, “I want a ticket home.”

Your ticket will come. One day, it will arrive. Of course, many people succumb to grief. But you write with such clarity, so I see you as someone who will make it. You’re never going back but you are going to somewhere that won’t be hell.

Trust me.

Recently, I wrote about a widower named Joe. Part 1 is on my post:

I’LL LIVE WITHIN MY BROKEN HEART.

JOE’S GRIEF JOURNAL – PART 2

I begin Part 2 with Joe’s reply to another widow’s message on an Internet grief form. His words are in brown:

I miss my husband’s company, his big frame, his hairy belly I would love to touch and the warmth his body put off in the bed; the kisses on the forehead as he headed to bed. Mostly, I miss the feeling of comfort when I could snuggle up to his back and feel safe.

I miss that big bushy beard and the way it felt between my fingers. The hugs that I thought would never end but improve even more as we got older. I miss his snoring. I also miss his rough cut up scarred hands so big yet so gentle.

January 12, 2011 Joe wrote:

I understand that longing. I don’t want to sound salacious, but sometimes I just miss my wife’s body, the feel of her and the physical closeness. I feel terribly touch deprived since she died. It hurts as bad as my heart some days.

April 7, 2011

I’ve lost my lifetime mate. I have been altered on a cellular level. I have a cancer that can’t be seen. It’s still there, however. It is just as real as the kind that one can see under a microscope. It’s the daily leaching of my heart energy, the daily uphill struggle to take the next step, the daily difficulty of functioning with the burden of being in a totally foreign condition where I’ve never been before: alone.

I am not in denial, I don’t believe in pretending to have a positive attitude. I believe in being honest with myself. That’s not easy all the time. I look forward to a time of feeling something other than sadness and loneliness and depression.

April 30, 2011

My doctor told me yesterday that I am living in a fantasy world, just because I said that I want my wife back. I know that I have to go on and live a new life without her. I just am not ready to do so.

People who haven’t been married and truly bonded just don’t understand that the feeling really is like a part of me has died, too. While some may say that’s not a healthy way to feel, all I can say is that it’s real for me.  I want to feel better, to feel peace again. I have periods of time when I seem to be doing pretty well. Then, out of nowhere something triggers me and I can barely function.   

I will never feel the old “normal” again and that tears me out of the frame some days.

June 13, 2011

I’ve been feeling a soft kind of sadness somewhere between my chest and throat. When I finally inquired of it, it is about thinking that if I had paid more attention to my wife’s symptoms I might have intervened months before she got so sick that she had a heart attack.

It’s a kind of self-flagellation thinking. It’s a part of the way I wish something were different even if I have to blame myself for how things turned out.

This is another teary phase that will last a few days and then pass. I’m not concerned. I’ve become accustomed to the ache in my sternum.

June 13, 2011

Dear Joe,

Your writing always touches me. Only a week ago you offered comfort to someone else on the forum who was suffering. I have often felt that by helping others with their grief, I have helped myself, too. Perhaps you didn’t even realize that as you offered comfort.

Your awareness and honesty as you write about your grief is very moving. Even though you might feel what you have said is self-flagellation, you are just processing whatever wishes you have about changing the outcome of your wife’s tragic death. I used to feel that way when my son died after heart surgery. I had to make a lot of decisions about which type of heart valve to use and even wondered if a different surgeon could have changed the outcome.

Expressing all of your feelings is helpful to heal. I love that you understand that with your last sentence knowing your tears would pass.

There’s only one thing I want to tell you, though. Don’t believe that you will always be accustomed to the ache in your sternum. I want you to know that someday the ache will fade, not completely, but enough to find joy in life again. Your expression of feeling through writing and love for your wife will heal you and others someday, too. I am certain of that.

Keep writing.

Judy

June 16, 2011

I’ve been saying my heart is broken for two and a half years.

Monday morning it quit on me. I had a heart attack. I was flown to a hospital and got a stent inserted in the offending artery. Doctors think I’ll be able to return to full activity in a few weeks. Man, that attack really hurt.

While my physical heart seems to be healing my metaphorical heart remains broken. I’m not stuck in grief all day as I once was, but I still drive into a hole in the world with regularity in which her absence is the essence of my whole experience.

I don’t think that will ever change. I chase her in my dreams, but she remains just out of reach. I miss her in this world but there are no changing facts. She’s dead.

One good thing came from my heart attack. During the helicopter ride, I was able to let go and allow myself to die. I always thought I would release myself to death given the chance but a part of my mind doubted I had the courage to do that. At least now I know I have the balls to die. I know I can release this life if given the chance.

Although this post is long, I want to share Joe’s story about how he met his wife, Beth. It is very moving and adds a lot to his words about grief:

  I turned fourteen in July of 1959. Fourteen was when puberty was just hitting its full stride in me, unlike today when kids seem to grow up so fast.   It was coat weather already in early October. The day was sunny, but winter was a breath away.

I was playing basketball with my friends.   We were all interested in girls and the topic of that mysterious gender dominated the conversation. None of us knew too much, weren’t experienced with girls beyond fumbling exploration, and didn’t have a clue about emotions. Although we knew there was a connection between our gonads and the opposite sex, we weren’t sure what the real deal was.

  I had kissed a girl once. She lived next door and I kissed her as she was taking out the garbage. I didn’t feel anything and wondered what the big deal was. I had touched the pubescent bumps on the chest of a girl named Becky, too. But that experience left me flat as well. Like I said, the opposite sex was a mystery.   Late that afternoon, I was with my friends when we all went to Eighth Street where this new girl lived.   It was dusk when we arrived at Beth’s house. My friend boldly knocked on the door and a girl came out on the stoop; a girl like none I’d ever seen before. She had black hair, dark horn rimmed glasses, a red sweater and charcoal slacks over penny loafers. I still remember feeling like I was going to swoon.  

Beth was a member of the Student Council, part of the Latin Club, active in our schools social calendar and a straight A student. He said everyone liked her, even the teachers. Seeing her, knowing she was what we referred to back then as a “good girl”, and knowing I was a cigarette smoking, school skipping, just skating by grade wise half-assed punk I couldn’t imagine there was anything reciprocal possible from this vision I was seeing. I just stared, dumb struck by her beauty and the sound of her voice.

She smiled easily, laughed quickly and was smart and articulate; just the kind of girl who was way out of my league.   I don’t know how long we stood there. Time seemed totally irrelevant. I was transfixed and at the same time broken-hearted. I was totally smitten by a girl way out of my reach. For the first time I sensed that the connection between my maleness and the female of the species was visceral and real. My heart ached with unnamed emotions and my pulse raced from an overload of hormones. I wanted to leap with joy and cry in agony because I felt like I was completely in love with the perfect girl who was absolutely and forever unattainable.

  When the talking was over, Beth had gone inside to her parents beckoning. I walked home, stopped at a small corner store and bought a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, a spice pie and some Orange Crush soda. Between my hormones and the sugar and nicotine I was higher than a kite all the way to my house.   I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes I saw that girl, the face and the clothes and the sound of her…I didn’t know what it all meant, but I knew I felt stuff inside of me that was entirely different from anything I’d ever felt before. I was swirling with confusion and hope and despair.   

The next day I went to school and as I stood at my locker, one of my friends came up to me.   ”You son-of-a-bitch,” he swore at me.   I was flummoxed. “What the hell did I do?” I asked, not understanding why my friend was angry with me.   He sighed. “Beth has your initials pinned to her sweater,” he said.  

I almost fainted. I suddenly knew what “weak in the knees” meant.   ”No she doesn’t,” I answered him disbelievingly. I thought he was pulling some kind of cruel joke, making fun of me because he could see that I was totally taken with the new girl.    “You better believe it,” he said and as soon as I had my books he led me down the hall to where Beth stood at her locker. When she turned to smile at me I could see “JB” in brass letters pinned to her chest.

  I think I may have lost consciousness for a moment. I don’t remember what happened next. All I know is what began in 1959 continued to 2008. We were bonded in a relationship that took us from pubescence to old age. That was the day it all began for us. I can still picture her on the steps of her house and I can still see what she wore. I can still remember the intensity of that moment, the moment when the mystery of the opposite sex deepened and my life really began in earnest. I loved her then beyond my ability to describe. I miss her today in a way I have no words to express.

And, I still have the brass initials that she wore and kept in her jewelry box all of these years.

April 4, 2012

It’s been over three years now and I am beginning to feel a sense of healing. When I remember my wife now the memory is warmer, filled with a sense of love that the pain overshadowed for a long time.

  I am fully in support of each person taking as long as it takes…not to be bullied into compromising their grief and feelings of despair. I am here to say that even if years pass, so too, eventually, does the terrible feelings of loss.   

I will never be the same person I was before my wife died, but I’m becoming okay with that. I am more than ever convinced that by feeling everything that arises in me I will eventually see that energy move and change into something else. Despair becomes melancholy, suicidal thoughts become manageable sadness, and loneliness becomes a strange contentedness with my own company.

May 23, 2012

My wife has been gone for three and one half years.

I am no longer suffering the way I was. Sure, I miss her still, think about her, but I’m no longer driven by my sadness.   Additionally, I had another piece to my agenda. I promised myself that no matter how lonely I got I would not bring someone into my life just to fill the empty space.

Honestly, that was as hard as following my feelings into their darkness.   I think I have held to my integrity, kept my promise to myself, and I have remained alone. Until a few weeks ago, that is. I met someone in quite innocent circumstances and to my surprise I actually felt something toward her. Confused, excited and acting like an adolescent, I approached her and confessed what I was feeling. She’s been a part of my life for a short while now and I like her presence a lot.

I’m glad I waited. Even if this new relationship falls apart I can still learn a lot about my ability to feel love again…I’ve no guilt about loving again.   I am the last person who thought I’d have any happiness in a relationship again. I didn’t believe the people who encouraged me.

I thought I was the poster boy for grief and being alone for the rest of my life.   I might still end up alone, but I’m aware I’m capable of feeling good stuff again. Thank you all who have been here with me during these last three years. It’s been a bitch, but maybe my life has turned a corner.

I hope someone will find encouragement in this writing.

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I’LL LIVE WITHIN MY BROKEN HEART

January 3, 2013

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While searching for an illustration of a heart I came across this book cover I created for Avon Books many years ago.

While searching for a heart I came across this book cover I painted for Avon Books many years ago.

I love this quotation:

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” Norman Cousins

My post title is a line of lyrics from my song, Beside Me Always. My upcoming audio book carries that same title.

Clicking the blue link below plays my song:

I have discovered that I am drawn to grief. It’s as if grief is a flame that dances and beckons me.

I wish I could extinguish the monster. As I grow closer to the heat, my scars begin to throb. But the memory of love needn’t cause a burn.

I feel compelled to taunt that flame – because I know it cannot burn forever!

I announce this loudly to anyone who will listen. Eventually the fire will flicker out with a wisp of white smoke. There will be cold ashes left behind. But instead of a burning flame, the memories bring comfort now – never to be extinguished.

I continue to move through the darkness searching for other flames to taunt.

I have written before that everyone handles his or her own grief differently. Now, I want to share my own personal beliefs about grief:

It is not recoverable; one adjusts to it.

Healing is possible, and maintaining hope of it can provide sustenance. But the process of healing is unconscious and happens despite certainty that grief is endless.

Many, many people succumb to their grief.

Grieving is hard work and consumes one’s existence.

Although it is rare, it is possible to find joy again. But finding it is a conscious effort and requires giving oneself permission to be happy.

A year after Jason died, I wrote to him as a therapy exercise. There were a few profound sentences I wrote that were prophetic.

My words from 19 years ago are as true at this moment as the day I wrote them.

“He will never be forgotten, even when the grief pains diminish. I will keep his memory alive. Because of him, I will never be the same – in that way he’s a part of me and has exposed me to a life unknown. Jason, I still love you.-

My new friend, Relinda wrote several new posts. (The blue post titles are links to her blog)

Here is an excerpt from Another New Year’s Eve:

“As I end my third year alone, the thoughts that prevail in my mind—I will never feel those perfect lips upon my own again. I will never feel those strong arms around me again. I will never know love again. Every step I take and every little thing I do—I remember him. And just when I catch myself smiling, I remember that he is gone. He is gone and he is not coming back.”

Relinda also wrote another post called Broken Vases and Broken Hearts:

“Sometimes, in life, there are shattered pieces scattered across the earth that are destined to remain broken. That is as true for vases as it is for hearts. Regardless of how much glue one uses to try to put all the pieces back together, it just will not hold. The scars are there forever. The fractures will always be visible. Once broken, it will remain broken.

People will inquire what happened to the beautiful vase . . .

It leaped from the table to its sudden death, but it lives on scarred and missing that one important piece. I could not save the thing, as hard as I tried. And now it continues to live on, a wretched hull of something that once exuded warmth and love, while transcending eternity. Without that piece, it is ugly, empty, broken… and worthless.

That is how it is for vases, as well as hearts.”

I was thinking a lot about Relinda. I am sensitive to all forms of grief. As a bereaved mother, I embraced living by bearing subsequent children while grieving. For a widow or widower, finding love again might seem impossible.

But then I remembered Joe. Joe’s writing (on an Internet grief forum) always brought me to tears – just as Relinda had.

I decided to write to him.

On December 31, 2012, Judy wrote:

Hi Joe,

You haven’t written on the grief forum for some time. How are you doing? I won’t go to that place that time has healed, but I am hoping it has gotten easier for you.

I continue to write about grief and I thought of you because I have been corresponding with a widow who is bereft. Her writing is very poignant – just as yours was.

She believes she will grieve forever. I would love to hear your thoughts about this. You are such an excellent writer.

Judy

On Dec. 31, 2012, Joe wrote:

Judy, after three years I kind of just gave up. That’s when life took a turn and I met someone. Life has changed and I find I can love.

Joe’s Grief Journal – Part 1

Jan. 2, 2011

Hello. My name is Joe. I’m new to the group and want to let you all know why I’m here. I lost my wife on November 14, 2008. We met when we were fourteen years old and she was sixty-three when she died. She was the core of my life and I have felt adrift since she died. It’s always there, the sadness and emptiness, the space once filled that stands empty. There’s a hole in my heart that I doubt will ever heal.

Jan. 8, 2011

I have admitted to friends that I shouldn’t have had a driver’s license the first three months after my wife died. I’d start driving and end up someplace with no memory of getting there. One day in the bank I was looking for a notary to do something for me. Someone innocently asked me, “How are you doing?” I went to my knees crying and all the people around me scattered like quail. The ones who rode the elevator down with me probably couldn’t wait to get free as I was hanging on the handrail and weeping uncontrollably.

Feb. 5, 2011

While I don’t see my wife…I see the space she occupied everywhere I turn. Even now that two years have passed I still see her space at the porch rail, in front of the sink, in our bed, in her chair, beside me while walking, in the passenger seat of my truck where I would lay my hand on her thigh.

Feb. 8, 2011

I don’t trust that the rest of the world will understand. Half of my existence is gone. No matter that over two years have passed I’m not over losing her. How do I explain to the world that I am broken and have no hope of being whole again? All I can do at this point is cry. That’s the most genuine thing I can do even if I do it in privacy now.

March 2, 2011

I am in a really dark place. My mind is shrieking, “I can’t do this alone, this living business. I can’t take care of the house and the car and the dog and the bills and my feelings all by myself. I can’t do this without the comfort of another human voice, the warmth of another human’s touch, the counsel of another human’s wisdom. I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”  

The feeling that accompanies this is terror. I am living in terror and some shame for feeling so weak and desperate.   I have no skills for living alone. I have never been alone before. I feel truly broken in half and totally incompetent in these circumstances.

March 8, 2011

I woke up tearful this morning. I’ve been tearful all day. It took me a while to realize a dream I had was impacting me.

In my dream, she was looking at me the way she did. Her gaze didn’t reflect that I was bald, getting wrinkles, losing vitality and becoming soft in the middle. She gazed at me like I was the most loveable man in the world. I’m crying now just remembering that look…and hoping she saw the same look coming from me.

March 20, 2011

Even my kids don’t know how bad I continue to feel. They don’t know about the anxiety, the sick to my stomach feeling when I know I’m coming home to an empty house. They don’t know how empty life feels, how often I wish mine was over, how pointless this all seems with her.   

After more than two years, I still wake to that feeling of being alone, still have only a moment before the memory that she is gone comes crashing into my mind and I feel my heart sink.   

They don’t know how hard it is to just keep going. They have moved on. They still have mates and children in the house and a life that is worth living.

I have no idea how to tell them that I do not.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

I decided to reply to Relinda in regards to her post about broken vases and broken hearts:

Relinda, I love metaphors, too. You are comparing a broken vase to a broken heart. Such sadness in those words!

A vase does shatter and is almost meant to be breakable. But a vase is man-made unlike a human heart. Humans with all their technology cannot glue a vase back together like new.

But god created humans. Hearts do stop beating and some bleed. But the difference is that flesh has the capability of healing unlike a shard of porcelain.

How wondrous healing is. It is miraculous and it happens without conscious effort. Of course, the wound does leave scars – but the pain diminishes. Your heart is still bleeding and cannot heal at this moment.

You have a beautiful heart; it is far from worthless!

My son died in the fall. Dead leaves always made me sad.

My son died in the fall. Dead leaves carry my son’s memory.

I always held onto hope that my grief pains would diminish. Thankfully, they did. I would never be the same either.

© 2013 by Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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YOU HAVE NO HOPE

December 30, 2012

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My post title is from a lyric line in my song “Hang On.”

My post title is taken from the lyrics of my song “Hang On.”

Recently, I wrote about a new direction in my life. I began reading other blogs.

Suddenly, I felt far less alone. There were so many wonderful words and I found myself reaching out to other writers. As a result, I also had a new audience of readers with whom to share my story.

I was particularly touched by a searing post, written by a grieving widow. I often reach out to other bereaved parents because I am one. It was interesting for me to be so affected by the grief from this widow.

I had never read anything more desolate before.

The post was named: My Mystical Quandary.

The blog’s title was: Doyle’s Widow / searching for a way home. (Please note that all of the blue post-titles are links back to the author’s blog.)

Reading her despairing words, compelled me to comment. But what could I possibly say? I was going through a divorce and certainly could not imagine a widow’s pain. I never considered myself a grief counselor.

But I deeply believed in healing and felt compelled to share my optimism.

And so it was that a month ago, that I wrote my comment and an exchange with Doyle’s widow began. Her name was Relinda.

Our correspondence inspired me very much and actually allowed me to clarify many of my own feelings about healing. After writing my first comment to her, I expanded upon the metaphor of grief being like a wildfire on my next blog post.

Here are excerpts from our first exchange. Her words are in brown and mine are in blue.

Dear Relinda,

As you pour out your pain, which you express beautifully – one day you will discover joy again. It is not your destiny to suffer. I pray for some hope to gently whisper something into your ear. Listen carefully, because it will come. Grief can cause total devastation, but like after a fire burns – growth and life are possible again.

I will agree with you in that I believe that is true for most; however, I do think my destiny is to grieve forever. Thanks for your thoughts, Judy.

I continued commenting to Relinda about my optimism related to healing. No matter what I wrote, she politely thanked me and then reaffirmed that she would never stop grieving.

On her story “A Mystical Quandary” she wrote that without her husband’s encouragement, she had little desire to write. She also felt no one wanted to read her sad writing and she was a fraud for hiding her grief.

After two weeks, I went back to leave her another comment. I wanted to encourage her to write.

I also knew that holidays are awful when grieving, and I was especially sad for her.

This watercolor painting of mine portrays isolation

This watercolor painting of mine feels like isolation.

I wrote her this message:

Relinda, do not hide your grief. Keep writing. I will continue to read whatever you write. I am waiting for more. Holidays are very hard when you are grieving. I want you to know that I am envious of you. I never experienced the love that you lost. I’m 53 and wonder if I’ll ever experience it. I don’t expect to because I feel condemned to being alone. It’s my choice with divorce now and that leads me to a different form of grief. I support you, Relinda. Please write more.

Thank you, Judy. I appreciate your support. I will write more soon. The holidays are especially difficult for me because I buried my love two days prior to Christmas Eve. Today is the three-year anniversary of his death. I believe that you will find that kind of love, Judy. It is there when you stop looking. Thank you for your encouragement.

I am so sorry for the pain on this 3rd anniversary! I believe you will soon reach a turning point. Although you are certain about your grief lasting, trust me, you are wrong. Open your heart to the possibility of healing. Even if you do not believe it, you will find signs of feeling better. Your encouragement to me is the same. I find it unlikely that I will find that kind of love, and you said I would when I stop looking.

I am going to tell you that when you stop telling yourself that you will grieve forever, you might actually start to see signs of healing. Healing does not mean you love him less. A sign of a good relationship is the ability to love again. But start with yourself. You are beautiful and worthy. You will help many people with your insight. Keep writing about it and on this sad anniversary I am thinking of you.

Thanks, Judy. I appreciate your optimism. I don’t tell myself that I will grieve forever, my heart tells me. For some, the love of your life comes along once, he and I shared that kind of relationship. Thank you again and you are in my thoughts as well.

I envy you for experiencing that kind of love. A broken heart definitely speaks – in my deep grief I wrote many things that I feel differently about now. I have thought of you throughout the holidays and hope you will write a new post soon. You have eager new readers! Do not hold back. You are absolutely entitled to your feelings and I am expressing my optimism because I never had any for many years.

I am glad that you have optimism now. It is hard to live without optimism. Thank you for thinking of me and for reading my blog, Judy.

This story continues. I did not know Relinda. I only knew her grief was endless and that was all.

Last night, I saw she had a new post on her blog. It was named The Promise. It held a lot of information for me about her. She began her post by sharing a very moving graduation speech. She wrote:

“It was during semester finals time that my husband fell ill and my instructors were so kind and worked with me to ensure that I did not drop out. Before he died, Doyle wanted me to tell those instructors what wonderful people they are—I am doing that now. He made me promise that I would finish college.”

After I read more, I was crying. I hardly could leave a rational comment, but I quickly typed a message to her. For some reason, many feelings began to erupt within me.

Relinda, this is so beautiful that I am crying!

I am touched that you found it beautiful, Judy; however, please don’t cry. You deserve to smile.

Her words touched an even deeper nerve in me. More tears began to flow and were unstoppable. I gasped as my feelings became clear to me:

I am crying because I wish I had experienced that kind of love and I am not optimistic about ever having it in my lifetime. You are my inspiration for being able to fulfill Doyle’s promise while crawling with your overwhelming grief. I wish I could smile more, but I am mourning many decades of settling for an empty relationship. I do deserve to smile and will keep trying.

My heart goes out to you, my friend. I sincerely hope that love finds you because it is obvious that you have a big heart. Look at your reflection and say, “I deserve to be loved the way that I love.”

Relinda, perhaps we are alike after all! I cannot imagine myself ever finding that kind of love just as you cannot imagine your grief diminishing. For me, the ultimate love is to find the strength to smile and go on despite grief. I seek to feel complete and find my joy within myself. I am blessed that my music does that for me.

I think you are well on your way to finding the love you deserve. Music is a gift indeed.

Thank you, Relinda.  I would love to share some of my music with you. I am not confident about my singing, but do feel my songs are touching. If you send me an address, I can mail you a CD.  No worries if you are too busy for this either! I would just love feedback if you felt inclined.

I would be honored to hear your music, Judy, and more than happy to provide feedback. Your comments mean so much to me. I appreciate the support and kind thoughts you send my way.

Poetry I wrote before I was married at the age of twenty.

These are two verses from my song “Alone.”

I was completely touched that she would listen to my music. Then I saw she had written a new post again.

It seemed that she had a lot more to say on the topic of optimism and grief.

Her post was named Killing Optimism.

Every word was searing and the amputation of her soul was complete. It made me realize how foolish grief comparisons were between the loss of a child versus a soul mate. Clearly her amputated soul was nothing I would ever want to measure.

Below is an excerpt:

“To live without hope is to cease to live. Hell is hopelessness. It is no accident that above the entrance to Dante’s hell is the inscription: “Leave behind all hope, you who enter here.”  — Jürgen Moltmann

An image from Relinda’s blog.

It seems that optimism surrounds me. As much as I try to avoid it—it just keeps calling to me. I despise this time of the year. I despise welcoming some new year that offers so little to me.

Grief killed Hope long ago. Hope is no longer pulling at the drawstrings of my mind. I wished upon all the falling stars I could find and I pretended all that one can, prior to completely breaking with reality.

Oh, it was a mighty battle when Hope and Grief tangled. Hope had resorted to hiding among the corners of my mind, just prolonging the inevitable. When Grief found him cowering, he struck a mighty blow, but Hope stood strong and fought to the end. I watched as the two battled like worthy knights battling for the love of a woman. I watched as Grief dealt the deathblow that would silence Hope forever. I cried. Hope was the only chance at renewal. Hope is dead.

How solemn it is to live without Hope. I think knowing him for 44 years makes his absence more devastating. I was an optimist. I always had Hope, even when Hope wanted to go away.

I see the way people look at me now, or rather do not notice me. I suppose that when I had Hope it just did not matter. I was once loved. I was once adored. When you are loved, you perceive a reflection of the person your lover sees. When love goes away and Grief murders Hope, you see an accurate reflection of yourself. When I gaze into a mirror, I see an image so haggard it makes me gasp in disbelief. When Hope is dead, you see only reality. There are no rose-tinted glasses or dreams blocking the accurate view. There is only reality. Reality is lonely.

I found Optimism hiding with all the Others and I asked what it is they are so frightened of and Optimism said they did not want to live in hell anymore.

A photo taken from my wedding video from 1981

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WHEN THE CLOSET IS BARE

October 1, 2012

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I began packing my things today. I plan to move in mid-October after I have my second cataract surgery on October 10th.

Clicking on the blue link below plays an instrumental version of my song The Door:

On Wednesday, I performed at my temple. I was one of several people providing a “workshop,” and I had one hour to share my music and optimism. For several days, I selected and practiced 8-10 of my songs so I could sing them smoothly. I know all of my songs by heart and there are a lot of chords and lyrics for me to keep track of with almost forty of them!

Only eight people showed up for my workshop – and five of them were friends of mine. I didn’t mind.

My friends were eager to hear me play and I loved singing my heart out.

It surprised me that I became too emotional to sing my song “Set You Free.” That particular song had many layers and held deep meaning for me. I choked through the tears and plucked my guitar until I was able to sing again. It took almost a full minute for me to recover. Four months ago, I performed “Set You Free” at my father’s funeral and now I appreciated how calm I was on that day.

My good friend, Sonia, was there to watch me. She has always been extremely supportive of my writing and music. Sonia is a Holocaust Survivor and I have written stories about our friendship:

REACHING OUT and ILLUMINATING HEARTACHE

That very same evening Sonia invited me to join her for dinner with a few other friends. Sonia is very direct and honest with her words; sometimes I am taken aback by how she says things. When I joined her at the restaurant, she insisted I was her guest and that she was treating me. I didn’t allow it and she said, “Well, then I won’t ever be inviting you again!” I hoped she didn’t mean that.

A year ago, she told me with complete candor that I must play my song “Alabaster Seashell” at her funeral someday. Her request was so touching! I quickly answered, “Of course,” but it was too surreal to even imagine it.

Because of my good friend, I also attended a very inspirational lecture last week. Sonia was part of a panel of ten speakers. The lecture was entitled “One Amazing Community” and an advertisement for it read: “Come hear ten amazing people tell their uplifting stories. Learn how they turned tragedy into triumph.”

The room was filled with well over a hundred people. It was electrifying to hear each person speak and every story was absolutely amazing. When it was Sonia’s turn, she sounded calm and assured even though I knew she had been very nervous beforehand.

It was quite a coincidence for me that Sonia’s family had been slaughtered at the same time on the Jewish calendar as when my son, Jason, died. She grew up as an orphan and the main emphasis of her story was about how she educated herself. She did it with dedication and perseverance and was rightfully proud of what she had achieved.

I ate up the stories and words told by each panelist, but my attention became riveted with one particular anecdote told by a young woman. Her name was Luda and she had Spinal Muscular Atrophy. When I attended the grief organization, Compassionate Friends, I remember well a mother who grieved her infant child that had died from SMA. Luda explained how she was fortunate to have Type 3 SMA, which allowed her to live beyond her teens.

Her anecdote began with the mention of a “large and scary brown door.” How interesting that she mentioned a door. For over a week, I had begun singing vocals for one of my songs, which was named “The Door.” My ears perked up and I wondered where she was going with her story.

Luda had an apartment and was a graduate student. She said that her happiness and gratefulness came from the fact that she was able to live independently, without relying on anyone to help her get around. Her appreciation of that was boundless.

What was inspirational was that she did this while being confined to a wheelchair and with the use of only one hand. The door she mentioned was one that blocked her way every morning after she exited her apartment. It was heavy and with her one arm she just couldn’t find a way to turn the handle.

She described how she would wait and listen – hoping that someone would be coming from the other side to open the door for her. Her heart would pound as she waited and prayed she wouldn’t be late for class.

It tested her patience, but she was determined to solve this problem on her own. She beamed as she said, “One day, I decided that I wasn’t going to let this door stop me anymore. I purchased a rope and I was able to figure out a way to loop it over the handle. Then I put the rope in my mouth and pulled on it with my teeth – after that, I could push the door open!”

She added, “I decided that the door represented an obstacle in my life that I was able to solve. There are always opportunities in life to overcome challenges, and that leads to personal freedom.”

I loved her story. I thought about my song “The Door” – my lyrics were about my reasons for leaving and the truth that I had already left in my heart.

But I was struggling because my door seemed overwhelming. With my eyesight compromised, I was frustrated. Although I knew it was courageous, going through the front door to end my marriage was probably the biggest step I’d ever taken in my entire life.

Lately, it was getting harder for me to be patient with my eyesight. I couldn’t think of moving until all of my eye surgeries were behind me. As a result, I was still sleeping in the same bed with my husband and several months had gone by since I’d announced that I wanted to separate. Once I went through my door, I would be leaving the pain behind that confronted and assaulted me on a daily basis.

Luda was right about finding personal freedom by overcoming obstacles. Although she had patience and waited for a moment where someone might help her, it was her determination to take action that made the difference. Luda lived with daily challenges that I couldn’t even imagine. If she was able to smile so broadly and appreciate her freedom, then I certainly could also!

A few days later, I began to sort through my clothes. It was the beginning and a good place to start. My determination became action!

I would not have much of a closet in the coop where I was moving. I planned to discard more than two-thirds of the clothes in my closet.

I had many sentimental items, even though I hadn’t worn them in years. I decided I would save the black dress my mother had once borrowed from me. What really confronted me was how many items were far too small. There were tennis outfits that hadn’t been worn in over a decade. I was heartsick about my current state, because I was heavier than I had been in many years. When I began my blog, I had begun to lose weight very easily. I was euphoric with the entire process of opening up. But that changed with my clarity and awareness that I was living in a very sad situation. Not long ago, I wrote notes out to describe the emotions that I experienced with the revelation that I could turn my life around and end my marriage.

My musical life provided an interesting script for me this past week as I continued to record vocals for my song “The Door.” It was a challenging song to sing and had an extended range of high and low notes.

Two important lines of my song needed to be revised. Originally, I sang:

My soul I could restore, if I went through that door.

Last week I changed it to:

My soul I would restore, when I went through that door.

I love this image because I remember well how exciting it was to backpack into the wilderness. I want to view my new life the same way.

The lyric line about restoring my soul felt awkward, even though it expressed my feelings. I felt I could certainly find a better lyric line.

I searched for a replacement rhyme that wasn’t as awkward. Nothing came to me. I decided to just go into the studio and sing. Sometimes when I sang, I just closed my eyes and let the words fall out of my mouth. My subconscious always held the answer for me.

It finally was revealed. When I recorded a replacement lyric line last week, my song felt much more solid. My subconscious spoke to me with:

“I knew I was worth more, so I went through that door.”

Clicking the blue links below plays recent discussions about my music with my vocal coach, Peaches Chrenko:

Peaches Lesson 9/20/12 Excerpt 1

Peaches Lesson 9/20/12 Excerpt 2

With this picture, I see myself being the one in front and ready to slide. My brothers are both behind me and my mom is lurking in the background. My mother is still alive and although I’ve lost her to dementia – I still feel her behind me, especially now. Both my brothers have reached out to me also.

I was tired of feeling lousy. It was within my own power to help myself feel better. A good start would be to stop overeating. I was only punishing myself. I knew my husband and children viewed me as being completely selfish. They didn’t have the foresight to think things might actually be better in the future.

My husband was a good man and he deserved someone who would give him companionship. I wasn’t leaving him for someone else. I just wanted to be in a place of peace. I couldn’t live with his suffocating unhappiness and lack of affection anymore.

I was worth more.

A recent card from Sonia.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tags:changing your life, composing, divorce after a long marriage, ending a long marriage, gray divorce, inspiration, loss, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, moving out, Music, optimism, original songs, overcoming challenges, performing, separation, singing, songwriting, the door, voice lessons, writing
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AS I MOURN

June 24, 2012

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

CLICKING THE BLUE LINK BELOW WILL PLAY A PRELIMINARY GUITAR RECORDING AND NEW KARAOKE ARRANGEMENT:

These are my song’s lyrics, exactly as I wrote them. I did not really “craft” my song. I wrote all the lyrics in one moment.

I found many new pictures while cleaning my parents’ old apartment. Any picture I found of myself playing my guitar was beautiful for me.

Two years ago, I began playing my guitar again after 30 years; it was because I had an appointment with a producer my friend knew. This past week, I met with him again to share my progress. He told me I had certainly improved!

BELOW IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY VOICE LESSON WITH PEACHES CHRENKO REGARDING MY NEW SONG:

WITH ME – Voice Lesson Blog Excerpt 6/18/12

“When I’m discouraged, sometimes I crawl”

It had been exactly a month since my father had died. Stress was building up in my life. My days felt like they had become rocks again. The heaviness that weighed upon me sometimes made it physically difficult to even move. I kept everything inside, and could not release nor share it with anyone.

I attended a memorial service for my father that was held at his nursing home. My mother and her caregiver, Miriam, attended the service with me. Another man spoke and tearfully mentioned how dementia was a “scourge” upon his father; I completely understood. When it was my turn, I spoke about my dad’s love for me and then I sang my song “You Were There.” I finished and went back to sit down; I was completely drained but inspired. My mother poked me and said, “Where were you?”

A few days later, there was a moment when the stress became so great, that I thought it might erupt from me. But nothing was able to be released. Instead, the pounding in my ears became so loud that I could not hear anything. I wished I could escape.

Pain squeezed my insides, and caused my breathing to become ragged. My throat muscles were raw and it was hard to swallow. A few burning tears splashed down my cheeks; I tried to calm my ravaged gut.

I was filled with total despair and there was nothing to hold onto. My heart felt like a devastated wasteland. I was certain this feeling would pass, and I would survive as I had before. But this situation was different. Survival felt selfish. I was concerned about my children. I wanted them to be strong and resilient, and at the same time I longed to protect them. But I could barely take care of my own emotional needs. I was trying very hard to cope with the loss of my parents. My cocoon of safety was gone and everything was uncertain.

I had often pictured my journey as one of walking along a pathway. My path was one that gently meandered through grassy landscapes. A beautiful castle was always visible in the distance. Now the landscape around me was on fire. I needed to figure out whether to run backwards and put out the flames or whether to run in another direction.

The throbbing pain inside of me continued as questions swirled through my mind. Had I caused the fire? Would others be hurt in the fire? Was I supposed to rescue everyone? I began to feel myself burning because I couldn’t move to make a decision. My journey was no longer a pleasant stroll. It was becoming painful. One day, I would open up to share my pain.

But at that moment, I was lost.

“With me in every song”

For three days after that, I was numb. I decided that I needed to focus all of my energy into healing myself. I was never going back to the place I had lived in for decades – Zombieland. I tried to find ways to remind myself that I had healed and was no longer that person anymore. Just looking at the fingernails on my hands reinforced how I had the ability to change. I didn’t stop biting my nails until I was 50 years old.

It was an improvement in my life that I’ve felt very proud of.

I often strained to remember my father’s voice and missed him very much. But I had to accept that he was truly gone forever. I could still feel his love and my new song’s lyrics enveloped me with comfort.

It seemed logical for me to retreat into my musical world where I felt safe. In that magical place, all of my uncertainty disappeared. I spent several days working on finalizing an intricate guitar arrangement for my new song. Today, I met with my arranger, George to create an arrangement.

I came home and sat alone in my bathroom. My bathroom had a corner area with a chair; it was where I played my guitar and wrote my songs. As I listened to the exquisite notes of my new song’s arrangement, tears began to freely gush down my cheeks.

I tried to practice singing along, but my voice became too choked with emotion. I could not sing. Still, I noticed that all of my stress had begun to melt away. It dawned on me that suddenly I felt better. This day was definitely not as heavy as a rock. I was elated; my day was golden once again.

What had changed? I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of it. I decided that all of my stress came from a place of disappointment and high expectations – mostly with myself.

Life would always hold stress. Living in that place was not really living!

My song was a gift to remind me of what was important in my life. Uncertainty, fear and disappointment evaporated because I knew I was blessed.

What had changed was that I went to a different place, one of gratefulness and appreciation.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tags:acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, appreciation, composing, creativity, death, dementia, feeling blessed, grief, GRIEF RELATED, guitar, inspiration, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, optimism, optimism about life, original songs, positive outlook, positive thinking, singing, songwriting, staying positive
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I FEEL YOUR PAIN

September 29, 2011

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

There is never an end to mail that comes for the deceased at my home. Receiving this gave me a pang, for sure.

VOICE LESSON EXCERPT WITH PEACHES CHRENKO ON 9/27/11

“Let love shine a light”

My existence continues to be blessed. I am elevated and inspired because I have written two amazing songs within the last month. I never expected that I would be composing new songs so easily. A year ago at this time, I was still “purging” all of my older songs from my psyche.

Because I am so passionate and excited, I want to share right here a recording that truly reveals the birth of my song. I wrote my song in only four days, and that is a record for me. I’m certain I will fine-tune the lyrics a bit, but at this moment I am on a cloud.

From the beginning, I knew exactly what I wanted my song to be about. The timing couldn’t be better for me. My song is meant to help others who are grieving.

However, at the same time as I hope to help others, I am certainly healing myself.

“Love is never gone”

My mother has continued her downward spiral into dementia.

I was sad when I visited my mom one night at dinnertime. Her afternoon/evening caregiver was off that night. Plates of food must be moved out of her reach, because otherwise she fingers everything and dumps the plate onto her lap or the floor. When I arrived, I saw my mom sitting alone in the dining room of her nursing facility. Her dinner dish was ice cold at the opposite end of the table. A nurse smiled at me; she knew I would feed my mother since she was busy feeding other residents. As I spoon-fed my mother, I thought about how my father was upstairs eating alone at another table. It was always a pull for me, trying to visit both of them separately.

I like this picture with my mother in the background. She was always there.

A few days after this, I spoke to my father. I told him how meaningful it would be if he would allow me to arrange for him to eat with my mother. He said, “Are you kidding? How do you think that will happen?” My father told me that it was a big deal to have someone push his wheelchair down from the floor above. He was adamant in his refusal; I also knew he had no patience for my mother’s dementia. Although his room was in the same building as my mother’s at their nursing facility, he seldom saw her.

I called my father last night and almost fell to the floor when he told me that he was eating dinner at that very moment with my mother; he told me he had changed his mind and arranged so that he could eat with my mother every night now. I couldn’t believe it. I am thrilled how being honest and speaking my mind has had such great dividends; my father actually listened to me!

When I was at my oldest brother’s home for dinner last night, I shared this news with him and we were both crying.

This morning my mother’s caregiver, Miriam, told me what she hoped she didn’t have to share. My mother’s condition was worsening. She had not recognized Miriam and became aggressive by grabbing Miriam’s arm. A nurse saw what happened and told Miriam that it needed to be reported.

I hung up the phone. I would be visiting both my parents soon. Music swirled through me and I felt grateful for my inner peace.

My oldest brother Norm is with me here.

I love my life.

I have chosen to pursue my passions and I have so many of them. Of course, my highest priority this past week was working on my audio book. I edited ten audio stories that I had recorded at Larry’s studio before he went out of town for two weeks.

I met with my editor and she handed me a stack of revisions for another fifteen of my stories. Her markings were even more honest and clear; I told her how much I appreciated such direct feedback. I smiled as I read her red markings. She wrote things to me such as, “Will anybody understand this or care?”

My editor’s comment has me laughing.

Although it was a distraction for me, I had some wonderful email discussions this past week. It all started with an idea from one of my friends about how I could be an excellent art/music therapist; that it would be a worthy enterprise for me to go back to school.

What I found most interesting was how clearly I could articulate that there was nothing else I wanted to do. Despite not having any income at the moment, I have such certainty that god gave me gifts to express myself in a way where I am going to heal and touch many people. A professional degree might make me more qualified for another profession, but with my current pursuits – I have all the qualifications I need.

I view my songs as gifts and accept that I must “birth them” when they come to me – even when sometimes it has been extremely inconvenient. Despite having so many ideas of things to work on this past week, when I picked up my guitar I felt the emotional pain of Jason’s impending death day. That led to the discovery of a new song.

My new song began with what has become a familiar pattern: first with beautiful chords and then a lovely verse melody. Within a few days, I had composed the chorus melody, as well. The lyrics were easily written. As I discovered my song, its volume in my mind increased and soon I could hear the chorus filling my heart and soul. I was completely overwhelmed with joy and amazement.

Because I viewed my song as a gift to me, I wanted to share my new song as a gift to others. My song was about how hard it can be to survive the pain of grief. It was about “hanging on.” It was love that kept me going and I was able to articulate that with my song.

As I sang it, I felt healed of every pain in my life. Tears filled my eyes because Jason had returned once again. I could feel his love as I sang my new lyrics.

I knew he was beside me.

Tags:"sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, Caregiving, child's death, compassionate friends, composing, creativity, death, death of a child, dementia, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, guitar, healing, healing and grief, hope, inspiration, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother's illness, Music, optimism, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, surviving grief, voice lessons
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BORDERING ON TEARS

August 8, 2011

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

Just for fun, I'm sharing a picture from my wedding with my bridesmaids (For some reason, my dear friend Joni is missing.). Marge posed even though she wasn't a bridesmaid. She was in Israel during my engagement and returned only a few days before my wedding.

Marge recently celebrated a Bat Mitzvah. I am posing with her in this picture taken several weeks ago.

“The changes that have occurred in my life”

I have suffered with deep grief and other disappointments in my life. When I began writing, I shared a great deal about that. However, I currently prefer to write about how I continue to smile despite many on-going challenges in my life.

My story, “The Music From Her Heart” is about inspiring people to know that happiness is possible despite adversity in life. When I discovered my passion for writing and music a year and a half ago, everything changed for me. The suffering that I endured for over two decades was erased and I transformed into a happy and self-satisfied person. Now my life is very meaningful for me.

Although I am not the same person I was before I suffered from grief, I have definitely healed. While I was grieving, I never believed it was possible that I would ever be happy again.

After a decade of deep grief I lived for another decade in a place called “Zombieland”. That word describes my existence of feeling “numb” without any emotional connection to life.

I suspect that many people are in that place. Also, very few people escape adversity at some point in their lives.

It’s important for me to share that with joy, I also feel pain. I believe that experiencing pain is necessary and part of the full spectrum of being alive. I turn my pain into music and song lyrics; after that, my pain is diminished.

I realize that many of my songs mention tears, so I guess I am very emotional!

Most of the time, I dance through my day enraptured by music. I often cope with unrelenting stress (due to my parents’ deteriorating health), but with my music I am soaring. I am also filled with great love for my family and that continues to fuel me.

Because I am a writer, I tend to tell myself a lot of stories. I would describe some of those stories, as scenarios I imagine are happening to explain other people’s actions. Telling myself stories is usually not helpful. I have the awareness that some of what I tell myself might not be true. To improve my life, I stop those stories.

The reason I do this, is because I can easily spin-off into thoughts that make me sad. I believe many people do not realize the impact of the messages they tell themselves.

Thoughts equal feelings!

I have learned through hypnotherapy how the messages I tell myself definitely translate into whether I am upbeat or not.

I want to write about two areas where I have very positive feelings that I didn’t used to have until I transformed into a happier person.

The first area is about sleep. When my son, Jason, died in 1992 I had great difficulty sleeping. For eighteen years I took an over-the-counter sleeping pill. If I didn’t take the pill, I would wake up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep. I felt that it was very important not to forget to take that pill because I would have difficulty “functioning the next day.” That was the story I told myself, which I was certain was based upon my experience.

With my newfound happiness and “transformation,” I made many changes to improve my life.

First, I stopped biting my nails.

Then, I stopped taking the sleeping pill. I had so much more energy and decided I’d allow myself the freedom to do whatever my body told me.

I stopped telling myself how many hours were necessary for me to sleep in order to function.

I slept whenever I was tired and if I wasn’t tired, I was fine with having more time to write or play music. That translated into my going to sleep well after midnight and waking up sometimes as early as five or six a.m.

I woke up excited to be alive and to have another precious day ahead of me. This was a huge contrast to how I could not face each day while I was in deep grief.

When people hear that I sleep so few hours, they often tell me that it is not possible to function that way.

I smile with the knowledge that those people are welcome to their beliefs and can continue give themselves that message if they so choose. I prefer to tell myself a different message.

My message is that I have more energy than I ever did before when I slept more and was sad.

The other area where I have more positive feelings surrounds the subject of menopause. I have often heard the belief that the “change of life” is something full of discomfort.

Pardon my honesty, but those occasional “hot flashes” have been manageable because I have felt “hot” my entire life. It wasn’t anything new. My poor children all blame me for the sweaty condition that they inherited from me!

I actually had my last period the month I began my blog.

I can say with complete candor that I have experienced the most wonderful “change of life.” It has dispelled all of my prior notions that menopause was something to dread.

I have rarely met any woman my age who feels this way.

I continue to find ways to appreciate my circumstances and feel blessed!

“A year in my life”

Today, I happened to drive by the Border’s Bookstore where I used to perform weekly. There were large signs up for the “going out of business sale.”

It is so interesting for me that it was exactly one year ago when I began performing regularly at Border’s Bookstores. I wrote a story called: BORDERING ON BREAKING OUT

On impulse, I decided to park and go inside. I felt that it was an opportunity for me to say goodbye to the bookstore where I had so many fond memories of singing. I was sad to see my performing there end because it was such a wonderful venue to share my music. However, that is nothing compared with the loss of jobs for so many people. I entered the store. It was crowded and frenzied because many people were there looking for a good deal. The few employees I saw looked overwhelmed.

Most of the equipment at the "Cafe" was gone.

This wasn't even the most gorgeous of the smoothies I received after performing. (I always brought it home to share with my kids, but they were lucky if half was left!)

I went upstairs to the area where I used to sing. I could picture in my mind the nice girl at the coffee bar who would fix me a beautiful smoothie when I finished performing. I would always remember her.

I wasn’t sure if the manager was there and even if he was, I hated to bother him when he was so busy. He was such a kind and sensitive man. But I wanted to let him know how sorry I was and to say goodbye.

I waited patiently to speak with a harassed employee to find out if the manager was even there. She told me he was, but he was very busy. I told her I would wait. She asked me my name and I told her who I was. Suddenly, she hugged me.

Within a moment, the manager appeared in front of me. He was a tall, slender man and easy to talk to. At my last performance he told me his store had actually been profitable and was doing well. I felt sorry for him.

I reached over to hug him and then I said I would gladly write him a reference if it could be helpful. I was touched when he said he would appreciate it. He said the audio equipment would soon be available for sale if I was interested.

Tears started to pool within my eyes. As they fell, I looked the other way so as not to embarrass him.

I left the store feeling quite emotional and decided I wanted to write something regarding optimism when challenged by life.

The bankruptcy and closure of Border’s Bookstores most certainly affected many people with layoffs, and put their lives into a tailspin. I am very sensitive to grief and pain around me. As a writer, I avoid topics such as politics or religion.

But I feel I must address the pervasive atmosphere that surrounds me everywhere I look. With the current state of our economy, I am sad for the many people who are struggling. A good friend told me yesterday that people he had worked with for over twenty years were recently laid off. He is nervous because his job is in jeopardy.

For people struggling with the loss of a job and coping with financial hardship, I have no answers.

I can only say that despite my own struggles in life, I continue to remain optimistic. Like the song “Tomorrow,” I always stay positive that life can and will get better.

Challenges are usually temporary and controlling my thoughts allow me to stay joyful, which in turn helps me to better cope.

Also, having my health is something I appreciate the most. Everything else pales in comparison.

The area where I used to sing. The chairs were gone.

“An anniversary of the heart”

Today was Cheryl’s birthday. Cheryl died from breast cancer three years ago and she would have been fifty-two years old.

We were very close while I was in college and she inspired several of my songs. I have never forgotten how I made her a surprise, twenty-first birthday party. It was hard to keep it a secret from her and I had counted down the days until the moment she would be surprised.

A picture taken when I opened the door to surprise Cheryl on her 21st birthday.

A picture from Cheryl's surprise 21st birthday party.

Six months earlier, I had visited Cheryl’s eighty-nine-year-old mother and brought along my guitar. It was a very special visit for both of us. I called her mother tonight. I was able to discern from my phone call that a lot had changed for her since my prior visit.

She had withdrawn from life.

I listened as she shared that she no longer socialized or used her computer to see her grandchildren’s activities on Facebook. She rarely left her house.

It was important for me to let her mother know that Cheryl lived on in my thoughts and music. When I told her how deeply I missed Cheryl, she said she missed and thought of Cheryl every minute of every day.

I believed her.

As I hung up the phone, my heart ached for a fellow, bereaved mother. There were no words to express how sorry I was.

A picture of me with Cheryl a few years before she died. She visited me from Cleveland every few years.

Tags:childhood friendship, composing, creativity, Daily Life, death of a child, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, humor daily life, Hypnotherapy, loss, Music, optimism, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, thinking positive, writing
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THE FUTURE WAS SCARY

August 24, 2010

BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS

I can clearly remember how it felt to be this age.

8/24/10 MY LESSON WITH PEACHES

8/24/10 PEACHES LESSON – SAYING GOODBYE 1

8/24/10 PEACHES LESSON – SAYING GOODBYE 2

This Saturday is Peaches’ 50th birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PEACHES! I am definitely planning to do something for her!

Excerpt of a message to a friend today:

My blog is still up and growing – and I’ve kind of changed direction from pursuing being a writer.

Well, I am doing simply great. My therapy from writing has transferred over into my rediscovery of guitar and my love of music, especially my songwriting that I did before I got married. I started out in March with voice lessons at a public park (with the same voice teacher my youngest son had). From there, I began going to a recording studio/arranger and have been getting a lot of pleasure recording my songs. I decided to really help myself improve by performing. I now have two weekly “gigs” and I play for Borders Bookstores; I also do an open mic thing on the Internet once a week!

So instead of being an illustrator, I’m working on revising my songs, and playing my guitar. I share a lot of this on my blog, including portions of my voice lessons. It has been a lot of fun for me. I have no idea where it is going. I am inspired, however, that I’ve received beautiful feedback from people sharing that my music has moved them.

What more could I possibly want?

On top of this, I am also enjoying my other blog – the one all about my illustration career. I update this blog about once a week. I scan files from many of my old jobs and categorize them. It has been a lot of fun, and perhaps it might end up being my book after all.

“My exciting life”

Yesterday, I was driving with my two sons home. While making a left turn, I pulled up next to this huge, pickup truck with enormous tires. I looked up and noticed that the two men in the front seat were grinning and leering at me. I smiled to my sons and said, “Wow, I’m fifty and I’m not used to seeing men look at me that way. Did I do something?” I was very embarrassed a moment later.

Because, just as I was saying that, one of the men leaned way out of his window – there was a noise and I jumped. My oldest son said, “Mom, that man just spit on our car window. Sure enough, the window was wet and my stomach started churning.

My life is getting way too exciting for me!

Here was a comment by one of the players in my tennis game today:

“Judy, is working on writing a song over there in the shade while we’re all talking!”

She was right!

A picture to remind me of a wonderful family vacation. The future wasn’t scary when my parents took care of me.

In my song, Only Tears I mention the words, “uncertain careers” and “the future was scary.” Well, my career is still uncertain!

I’m not sure how I’d even describe what I’m doing now. I could say, “I’m currently not working and only playing.”

That is accurate, because I spend long hours devoted to my fun and passionate endeavors without any kind of income.

At times, I do have financial concerns; however the guilt I formerly had about whether I am a productive person without an income seems to be gone. I feel like I am far more valuable now than I ever did when I made money.

When I was young, the future did seem scary. I wonder if I’ve faced some of those things that I thought were so scary. Cancer certainly seems scary, and I haven’t had to deal with that. However, I’ve faced many things that weren’t easy.

I’ve decided the future is simply unknown, and will be revealed to me. That whole process isn’t scary anymore; it is what makes my life meaningful.

I have too much energy for my present life, and none to waste about what might happen in the future.

Right now, my heart is light. But the “seasonal march” began today for me.

Summer has finally hit with unbearable heat. My thoughts began to linger about how long it will be until the weather starts to cool down.

Thus began the imperceptible march toward my next “anniversary of the heart,” which is in early October. That is the date of Jason’s death. It will be 18 years since he died at the age of five on October 6, 1992.

With bereavement that has forever changed me, always comes the memory of loss. The exquisite pain is always remembered, but with less intense heartache. I am human, and my joy is tempered by my appreciation for how fortunate I am despite losses in my life. To be human is to experience loss.

This morning, I was checking my phone messages and received an urgent one from my mom. She said she was ill with a persistent cough, and that she was up all night choking. I immediately called the nursing station at her facility and I explained that my mom is susceptible to infections, and that she was intubated due to respiratory failure. The response to my phone call was that she would be closely monitored at night and a doctor would see her tomorrow.

I am still an advocate when needed.

I have not yet finished writing about the experience of my mom being on a respirator earlier this year. That was the catalyst for the amazing changes in my life. The urge to write again has come; I must revisit that story soon.

I used to say, “I can never relax! Something bad will happen!”

Now I say, “I appreciate my joy, and will cope with whatever challenges come my way.”

Tags:"sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, Daily Life, grief and optimism, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, hopeful and optimistic, Humor, humor children, inspiration, loss, optimism, optimism about life, Ordinary Life, songwriting, voice lessons, writing
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Posts Tagged ‘optimism’

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