myjourneysinsight

THERE’S SO MUCH FEAR

Posted on March 22, 2011 by Judy

Memories are truly one of the greatest gifts in my life. I didn’t always feel that way, since I held onto many traumatic and sad memories.

As a memory in my life replays, it can be so clear for me sometimes. The smells, lighting, sounds; all of it is there as I am transported back to a certain moment in time.

Of course, not every moment of an ordinary day becomes a memory. Only extraordinary moments are “captured,” and I am not always aware that they are special while they are happening.

Recently, I had a moment while I was visiting my mother where I definitely felt I had a memory I would access later in my life.

It was on a rainy morning over this past weekend. I decided to stop by my mother’s nursing facility before going to an appointment with my hypnotherapist, Connie. As I walked into my mother’s room, I felt like a star walking onto a stage garnering tremendous applause. My mother’s face lit up like the sun and her caregiver, Miriam, clapped with joy to see me.

It was hard for me to know how much my mother was aware of. Certainly, she was often frustrated with her inability to find words. As usual, I simply smiled and told my mom how wonderful I was doing and how much I loved her. She babbled nonsensical statements, so I simply sidestepped and ignored her confusion.

My mother had attempted physical therapy last week. Because I am very aware of attitudes and outcomes, I found it very interesting to hear Miriam describe how it went to me.

My mother walked several steps, but then she collapsed in terror. She was not in pain, but she was panicked and fearful. Miriam said, “The physical therapist kept emphasizing to your mother that it might hurt – so she was very afraid.”

It turns out that my mother’s pain in her life is not her hip, her shoulder, or her back anymore. It is terror over her intense fear of the unknown.

I had brought with me some old, picture albums. It was suggested to me that with dementia it might be helpful for my mother to spend time looking at old pictures and explaining them to her caregiver.

Miriam shuffled through some of the albums I had brought while I was gently chatting with my mother. As Miriam looked at some of the pictures, she commented softly, “Look at your mother and how beautiful she looks! When was this picture taken?”

I turned to Miriam and said, “That one was four years ago.” I flipped through and pointed to one that was taken the day before my mother broke her shoulder and ended up on a respirator for two months. I glanced at the picture. My mother was dressed so nicely and her eyes were sharp. I said, “This picture is from only a little over a year ago.”

Miriam let out an almost inaudible gasp.

That gasp spoke endlessly to me. The unspoken words and story that spun from it was:

“Oh my goodness, how she has changed (deteriorated) from her image in that picture!”

My mother looked tired. I noticed how the skin on her arm was so different now. It looked like a paper that had been crunched into a small ball and then unrolled again. Tiny webs of lines crisscrossed her skin so that it looked almost like a piece of crumpled, tissue paper.

Miriam said, “I know I’m not allowed to do this, but sometimes we have to wait fifteen minutes for someone to come and put her in her bed. I am not going to wait – I will just do it now.”

I replied, “Miriam, I found out that as long as I am here you are allowed. So go ahead!”

Miriam gently lifted my mother from her wheelchair onto her bed. My mother would nap in her clothes and later on wake up to go to lunch. After lunch she might nap again. That was her life now. She woke up, ate breakfast, napped, ate lunch, napped, ate dinner, and went to sleep for the night at 6:30 p.m.

The room was dim. I leaned close to my mom and kissed her. “Have a nice nap, mom,” I told her.

Her dull eyes brightened for a moment. She was devouring my face with love. Then she became downcast and said, “I feel so bad for her. You know she got lost!”

As usual, I quickly jumped to redirect my mom from any bad feelings. So I said, “Mom, there’s no reason to feel bad for anyone else. You’re doing well and that’s what is important!”

As the words left my mouth, I realized how hollow and insincere they sounded. I decided to ask her, “Mom, whom do you feel bad for – who was lost?”

My mom said, “You know, you lost her – your friend. The one you used to go shopping with and whom you were so close to.”

My eyes filled with tears. My mom knew. She was speaking about herself.

Links to more about my song:

MEMORY OF LOVE-PART 1

MEMORY OF LOVE-PART 2

–

THE MEMORY OF LOVE

How can I tell you, I’m sad you’re leaving me?

I miss the way you used to be

I lost you somewhere

I’m lonely and I can’t share

I cannot tell you, so instead I just pretend

it’s easier, than to face the end

I’ve tried so hard to accept

as you fade away, I’ve slowly wept

I feel, I sense, there’s so much fear

I try to be brave, as you disappear from here

I cannot see you,

you’ve become transparent

I ache and wonder where you went

you can’t hear my cries

with deaf ears and vacant eyes

I pray, I wish, you were aware

but when I feel despair

the memory of love

is there

so even if you’re not aware

the memory of love is always there

“Instead of black and white, a palette of emotion”

The rain steadily pounded upon the guesthouse. I could hear the tapping sounds and splashes in the garden outside.

I told Connie that I was using my hypnotherapy tools and needed a lot of “self-talk” to help me deal with all the stress I had been facing the past week. Connie said it sounded as if I felt a lot of pressure.

As I was talking, I began to realize how frequently I used the statement, “I don’t know.” Here was a list from my memory of many of my statements with “I don’t know:”

“I don’t know if my teenage daughter and I will ever have a close relationship.”

“I don’t know if I’ve been patient enough with my youngest son.”

“I don’t know if my dreams are a distraction from the reality of all the overwhelming bills there are to pay.”

“I don’t know if my husband will continue to support my efforts. I haven’t paid much attention to him, lately.”

“I don’t know if I have a good enough title for my book.”

“I don’t know when I’ll finish the lyrics to my new song.”

One of the hypnotherapy concepts I learned was, “The more I looked for something, the more I’d find it.” With the statement of, “I don’t know,” I was simply leaving myself in a place of never knowing. The unknown was a place for me that seemed fearful.

I needed a replacement statement for, “I don’t know.”

Out came my favorite word. It was the word “wonder.” Replacing the doubt with “wonder” had the implication of “wonderment” and also far less doubt.

I loved wondering instead of doubting.

I had a tendency to also see things in “black and white.” I explained to Connie how that was probably “a habit” and a result of my childhood. My own mother and father still see things that way, and my awareness of it has helped me change a lot in that regard.

However, there is never an end to self-improvement!

The artist in me came alive when thinking of an alternative to viewing things in my life as “black and white.” Seeing things in “shades of gray” wasn’t even good enough for me.

I decided my “palette of emotion” would be far better displayed with infinite, colorful tones. It wasn’t about the pressure of failure or success anymore, because I began to wonder about all the colorful possibilities in between.

It dawned on me also that a lot of my energy was spent “wondering” about how to make all the other people in my life happy. I was very good at that, and had done it for a long time.

However, I celebrated the knowledge that my transformation was a result of my learning to make myself happy.

Nothing was going to deter me from appreciating that fact and continuing to find ways to improve my life and myself.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. 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.

Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, Caregiving, composing, creativity, Daily Life, dementia, Friendship, grief, guitar, Hypnotherapy, inspiration, loss, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, writing | Leave a comment

I SING FROM MY HEART, PART 2

Posted on March 19, 2011 by Judy

“The Art of Singing”

Because I was an artist for thirty years, I see so many correlations of art to music. I love the concept of my voice having a “palette” of sounds.

Lately, I have become very aware of the sounds my voice produces. My voice teacher, Peaches, has really helped me to find those variations. It truly has been inspiring for me to discover breathy choices, or smiling moments when I sing.

In only a few weeks, it will be one year since I began working with Peaches. I wrote about my first lesson on Post #74 My Mid-life Turning Point.

The “art of singing” includes one of my favorite “art tips,” which applies to so many areas of my life. That would be my statement that “less is more.” When I was an illustrator, simplicity was always preferable to over-working my paintings.

When I was younger, I sang with abandon without really hearing myself as I sang. Passion was expressed with volume; I sang in higher keys and loudly!

When I learned to sing more softly instead of belting things out, it was a revelation for me. There are delicate tones in music, just as there are in a painting!

Certainly, singing is extremely complex, especially while I am playing my guitar. One of the areas that I am trying to improve upon is where I choose to sing my words.

I like the metaphor that singing my song is like “singing while on a conveyor belt.” I must always “move along” with a song. Sometimes I am moving comfortably and sometimes I wait – but there is always movement. If I fall behind, I “hop on” somewhere else. Sometimes I jump ahead, but always the song moves along.

Perhaps that is why I sometimes feel more comfortable singing with my guitar than with an arrangement. I control the movement of “the conveyor belt” and I am not focused on simply figuring out where to sing with my arrangement’s “predetermined” movements!

However, while playing my guitar there is a lot of “working memory” going on with keeping track of chords, lyrics, melody, and “the vibe.” I want to share about “the vibe,” which is another word for the mood of a song.

Trust me, when I began singing I did not give much thought about what the lyrics truly were saying. I knew I had sad songs and happy songs and I always loved to carry their melodies. However, in the past, I would sometimes think about something else while I was singing.

It was when I learned from listening to recordings of myself that all of this changed for me. It became clear to me that without a connection to the lyrics, the vocals were bland and empty.

So I never sing anymore while thinking about what I’ll be eating for dinner! That is even if I’m hungry while singing, because I never eat anymore before performing. I learned that lesson as a result of a challenging performance following a dinner of middle-eastern food.

It is very funny to share what singers learn through experience! Little burps and tastes of spices do not allow for the focus needed to sing clearly!

I was told once that to open up my voice on higher notes I could associate it with the physical feeling of “throwing up” because that allowed the throat to “open up” more. That was definitely not an image conducive to adding “feeling” to my performance!

There is no more singing for me where I am thinking of something else other than the words I am trying to convey!

The mind, heart, and the meaning of the words come together for me now when I play music. Perhaps that is why I often have great difficulty keeping my eyes open when I sing. The imagery is so powerful for me that I often cannot stay focused on what is around me. I must close my eyes.

Here is what I am thinking of as I sing some of my songs:

On “So Real,” I remember well how I could not face waking up in the morning. As I sing those words I am flooded back with the memory of wishing I were dead as the realization of grief began each and every morning.

On “Beside Me Always,” I remember how my son would have his tousled hair upon my shoulder and how his tiny, warm body would lie upon me. I actually feel him very strongly, especially when I sing the words “longing for the soul I’ve kissed.”

On “Saying Goodbye,” I see images easily when singing the lyric line of “and the flowers have all died.” After Jason’s funeral our house was full of flowers and as they died the ache of grief only intensified.

On “Another You,” I see Cheryl’s face smiling at me – her eyes are twinkling with love.

On “Memory of Love” and “You Were There” my sadness over losing my mother incrementally makes it difficult to sing those songs. Tears in my voice can translate into choking.

On “How We Don’t Care,” I marvel at how I haven’t changed much and still act like I don’t care when someone in my family hurts me! Thankfully though, I don’t have any trouble saying, “I love you.”

I could go on and on. Even when I sing, “cover songs,” I find images that I can relate to so I can feel the words.

When I recently sang John Denver’s song “Looking For Space” his lyrics jumped out to me:

“When I think that I’m moving, suddenly things stand still. I’m afraid ‘cause I think they always will!”

Wow, was that ever true for me, lately!

Lastly, I’ve said this before, and I cringe as I say it again. But it is so true for me.

Singing is as intimate as kissing to me. My intimate thoughts and feelings are channeled right from my mouth into the listener’s ears. This truth has become even clearer when my breath and lip noises can be heard on recordings!

Being honest comes easily for me. I used to hate hearing my recorded voice.

With honesty, I can share that I love the sound of my voice now.

PEACHES VOICE LESSON EXCERPT 3-18-11 #1

PEACHES VOICE LESSON EXCERPT 3-18-11 #2

Tagged acoustic guitar, guitar, Humor, humor daily life, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, voice lessons | Leave a comment

LONELINESS FILLED MY DREAMS

Posted on March 17, 2011 by Judy

My mother before I was born.

“My mother will be fine with physical therapy”

I went to meet my mom at an appointment with the same orthopedic doctor she saw for a “second opinion” a month ago. He was very nice.

He looked at all the x-rays, and showed both my mother and me where the x-ray indicated her fractured hipbone was healing. He said it would only continue to become stronger over time.

My mother demonstrated movement by easily lifting both her legs without any pain. I mentioned that it was the “weight bearing” exercises that worried the physical therapist at her facility so much because my mom “grimaced.” He said a grimace was understandable and part of the process.

The doctor said that my mother would be fine with 50% weight-bearing exercises for two weeks and then full, weight-bearing exercises after that. He said it might be hard to do the 50%, but even a little at 100% would be okay.

He said the risk was slight, and he wanted another x-ray taken in two weeks time to make certain there wasn’t any displacement.

My mom was crying when she arrived at the appointment due to extreme confusion.

I was able to calm her and bring her back to reality, but it wasn’t easy. When the doctor explained to her that her hip was healing, she understood the implications. After the appointment, she was beaming.

I was really glad to see her relaxed and happy again, despite her struggle with dementia.

Who is this couple? Oh yeah, my parents!

I’ve decided the aging process is unbelievably painful for the entire family when it involves dementia.

“I could feel her grief”

I was definitely wearing a “Super Daughter cape” as I left my mother following her appointment. I wrestled with the “demon of dementia” and had won. My mother went from tears to joy as I steadily convinced her of the reality.

As I drove home, however, I still had the familiar, gnawing pain inside me. I wondered why I wasn’t more joyful that my mother had beaten the odds and survived her hip fracture without having surgery!

I decided that although I had a lot of things to do at home, I would stop and treat myself to a manicure. Since I bit my nails almost all my life, I marvel at the nails I started growing last July. Having a manicure is a way to reward myself and appreciate their beauty.

I realized with the difficult economy, the nail salon was certainly suffering since many people would consider a manicure a luxury to do without. It was one reason I had put it off.

I wrote a story a few months ago about a certain manicurist at the salon near my home. Her name was Thao, and she was Vietnamese. WHAT IS LEFT SINCE YOU DIED

Sure enough, the salon was empty when I went inside. Thao raced over to me, and I was glad to see her. She told me she had listened to the CD I had given her, but her player was now broken.

She was still very sad. Her eyes were large and despair was deep within. I could feel her grief.

As she worked on my nails, I asked her to tell me about the brother she loved so much who had died. She told me how he used to sing and play guitar. I asked her if she liked to sing too, but she said she couldn’t because it was too painful for her.

It turned out the date of his death was in a few weeks and that had certainly intensified her sadness. She said it would be two years since he died.

I asked her what she planned to do on that day. She said she would cook his favorite meal; she missed cooking for him. Then she told me in her halting English, “I want to cry all the time, but I don’t.”

I told her that those tears were important to release. I remembered that well. I said to her softly, “You know, letting those tears out allows for joy to come in. Not allowing pain, does not allow for pleasure either. Plus, it takes so much energy to hold tears in!”

Before I left, she ran to the back of the salon and brought out a picture to show me of her and her brother. Then, she insisted I take something home for lunch; it was a container of fried rice. I didn’t know what to do, because even though I don’t usually eat rice – I didn’t want to say no.

I also realized she had probably given away her own lunch. But she said to me, “Judy, you’ve done so much for me and I want to do something for you!”

I came home and tasted the rice. Steam started coming out of my ears, but I was grinning.

I could taste her appreciation.

Tagged "sandwich generation", Advocacy, Aging Parents, broken hip, composing, dementia, fractured hip, Friendship, grief, GRIEF RELATED, hip fracture, hip fracture without surgery, inspiration, loss, lyric development, lyrics, manicure, manicurist, not having hip surgery | Leave a comment

IN QUIET SHADE OF SYCAMORES

Posted on March 11, 2011 by Judy

A beautiful closeup of an incredible medley of salad greens. I ate this!

On a whim, I decided to play a medley of John Denver songs to celebrate playing my guitar outdoors. My voice lesson clips are only for anyone who wants to share my passion for music and songwriting!

J. D. MEDLEY #1 BY JUDY

J. D. MEDLEY #2 BY JUDY

PEACHES LESSON 3-11-11 #1

PEACHES LESSON 3-11-11 #2

PEACHES LESSON 3-11-11 #3

When I was little I used to wish my friend and neighbor, Joni, were able to play with me. Joni’s parents owned a dry cleaning store and unfortunately she had to work there every day after school until nighttime. This began from the time she was very little.

She did not attend the same school as I until high school because her school needed to be the one closest to the dry cleaning shop. By the time we were in high school, we were not as close. But we always remained friends, since we were toddlers. A beautiful exchange about this is at: #213 THE BEAUTY REMAINS

Over the last thirty years, Joni and I seldom saw each other. Certainly, we didn’t do anything as adventurous as hiking.

I used to imagine Joni and I might be playing monopoly again when we were old! I figured we’d be old before we had the time to do that!

Carol and Joni before we left on our hike.

Yesterday, Joni and I met up with Carol to go on a “foraging expedition.” This “adventure” would be our second outing as a threesome. A month ago we collected Chanterelle mushrooms with Carol’s expertise. We cooked them at the picnic area and they were absolutely delicious. Being that Carol was an avid forager made it easy for me to trust her knowledge. Carol shared that when she lived in Iowa, she was involved with educating people about locally produced foods and sustainable agriculture.

Carol and I were good friends while I was in college. We lost touch after she was briefly engaged to Sam, who was my boyfriend on and off through high school. Sam found my blog and reconnected with me last October. (My song, “You’re Not the One” was written for him!) In October, Sam told me how to find Carol. Sam and Carol were not in touch, but I have been in touch with both of them since then.

This has all been very interesting!

Yesterday, as Joni and I rode together to Carol’s home near Pasadena, I marveled how I felt like a young girl again.

We quickly arrived at Carol’s house. Carol gave us a tour; her home was warm and very quaint. Her garden displayed pure joy. It was obvious to see she had an eye for color, texture, and certainly taste!

Carol had just celebrated her birthday. Her husband had made her a beautiful book that displayed a lot of the beautiful food they enjoyed together. I took a picture of the front and back covers – the experience of tasting those Chanterelles with Carol was something I certainly wouldn’t forget.

Our “foraging adventure” was in the Angeles National Forest near Chantry Flats. It wasn’t far from Carol’s house.

Foraging was definitely a slower pace than simply hiking. Carol shared with Joni and I a lot of her knowledge. There were many kinds of “greens,” they became bitter if they were “older,” even if they were edible. With Fennel leaves, the tender, young shoots resembled caterpillars unlike the tough, outer ferns.

Carol gathering Miner’s lettuce.

It was fascinating to learn about the edible plants and what to look for. I had actually illustrated many herbs before, but seldom had the opportunity to actually see the living plant.

Unfortunately, by the time I recognized “stinging nettle,” which I had illustrated – I already felt my hand tingling and burning!

This is a good example of what we looked at before picking them. It was best to use a scissor, and not pull the plant out by the roots (that way it could grow back).

I photographed a periwinkle flower, and put my painting done years before next to it for comparison.

A periwinkle flower I photographed with a painting of one that I did for a Kirkland (Costco) vitamin supplement label several years ago.

I should have known not to get near this plant – this is an illustration of “stinging nettle” that I did a long time ago!

Now I can look at my painting and know I’ve eaten this plant!

Here were the plants that we gathered to create the most unbelievably, delicious salad: Miner’s Lettuce, Chickweed, Sow Thistle, Dandelion, Mustard, and Fennel.

Carol picked leaves and chewed them slowly. I grinned and told her it was a little “too naked” for me – I would wait for the salad dressing! I was especially excited because Carol had created and brought along a miso/ginger masterpiece for me to taste.

I love streams and running water. I have always wanted to create paintings with rocks and water.

Our hike was downhill going and uphill on the return. As we trudged back, I was looking forward to lunch. Hiking always made everything taste great. Certainly, I knew it would be heavenly to have a picnic. But I have to be honest; I was wary at first. Would the fennel impart a taste strong enough to make the salad taste like licorice? Would mustard greens be bitter?

Carol tossing the salad.

Joni and I – friends for almost fifty years!

A picture for comparison!

My wariness melted away with each bite. The greens were juicy, sweet, and flavorful. I was pleasantly surprised. I never expected weeds to taste so delicious! Of course, adding pine nuts, cheese, avocado, and a few other additions certainly contributed! Sure enough, Carol’s mysterious salad dressing was “out of this world!”

I didn’t want any pictures with green stuff stuck in my teeth!

It was a beautiful thing indeed to reconnect with my friends again. The memory of our outing would always stay with me.

I pulled out my guitar while my two friends finished their salads. I closed my eyes and loved hearing the sound of my guitar tinkling in the breeze. Carol sang along with me on the last two songs.

I shared my newest song with my friends. Lately, it has been echoing in my mind. It isn’t completely formed, but each week my song has progressed a little further. It now has almost all of the chords and melody, but it doesn’t have words or even a name yet.

However, the melody is so upbeat – it speaks without words to me.

When my mood is ready, the lyrics will appear. This process can’t be rushed, and I am hopeful it will happen soon.