myjourneysinsight

FADING THROUGH PASSAGES OF MY LIFE

Posted on November 23, 2010 by Judy

This is for comparison. I was 15 and he was 17.

Judy and Sam thirty-six years after the prior picture.

From: Judy

To: Sam

Sent: Sat, November 20, 2010 11:31:22 PM

Subject: The pictures!

Hi Sam,

It was so nice to visit with you and your wife. She is simply lovely and quite beautiful – you picked a wonderful woman. You’re a great guy, and certainly deserve it.

Boy that sounded like a lot of clichés – but I mean it!

Our pictures came out well. I don’t know what I would write about as far as our evening goes. I’m good at writing about trauma, and there wasn’t anything like that going on!

It was nice that I could share my music with you. It’s interesting singing now without a microphone. I’ve gotten used to that!

Thanks again for coming over; it was really such a terrific feeling to see you after all this time. You look great.

Take care, Judy

On Nov 21, 2010, at 12:11 AM, Sam wrote:

Judy,

I just sat down to write to you and you beat me to it!

Thanks so much for opening up your home to us…I really enjoyed meeting your family and getting to know Mike…he’s a really nice guy and I hope he enjoyed the evening as much as we did!

It’s so sad that everyone else around us has aged, but it’s pretty obvious that you and I didn’t! 🙂

Our own private concert…and your voice sounded great! My challenge…I would really like to see you write a new song…from scratch…because it seems that as you finish recording your old songs, that there is a sense of finality and completion about it…what else do you record after you’re done with the last two? A new song is a new beginning…maybe you will write more and maybe you won’t, but at least you know that your songwriting is part of the present, and not just the past. And it should be a part of your present…you are great at it, and I bet its therapeutic…don’t close the door on it!

Glad there was no trauma to write about (though if I had sung with you there might have been…I am definitely “voice challenged”.)

Let’s not wait another 31 years before getting together…might be too hard to get the walker through the door!…Sam

HI Sam,

I am so touched by your statement about writing a new song! I don’t know much about how the songwriting process works for me – but I have begun that process in my “new life” very incrementally. I have felt tremendous and intense satisfaction with even writing parts of a song that are new. A verse, a new chorus, and recently a whole song of new lyrics – that was such a boost for me! I am certain you are right.

However, composing music does take an extraordinary amount of “unfettered” time. It will be awhile before I can find that kind of calm and unstructured time. Especially now that I am very ambitious about writing a book.

By the way, I actually worked on a few chords the other day for the two, missing classical pieces that I composed – I had been talking myself out of “rediscovering” them; saying it was “too hard.” But now I plan to relearn them. I have a lot that I want to do! I need to balance this with all the other passions in my life, and make time for exercise, my parents, and my family! How great it has been for me to wake up every morning with so much energy and excitement!

Today, I’m seeing George and I’m going to really focus on just finishing up songs for a CD. I am hoping that someday I’ll have the opportunity to re-record my songs with improvement (hopefully, I’ll have financial success to do that). But for now, I think I’ll try and sell a CD – I do not expect much revenue from it.

It is hard for me not to record my new “seashell” song. But my intuition tells me that I can improve the song’s structure with more lyrics. It has a lot going for it, and cannot be rushed. It is so much fun to record a new song, rather than fixing those other ones! But I always follow my intuition.

Anyway, I’m rambling. I’ve been thinking a lot – “What would I write about from last night?” My friends are all anxiously awaiting word. I still don’t know!

I had a nice evening, too. My face was tired from smiling so much. I’m noticing with age, that all that smiling has my eyes crinkling up to where I can hardly open them! Mike made the same joke – he said that our next picture would be with walkers. That’s funny you mentioned it, too.

My main question was “How did your wife feel?” I actually feel a lot of trepidation asking that. Last night, I wondered if I had totally upset her when I showed her the blog. I assumed she had seen it. When I pulled it up and she saw pictures of us – well I felt like an idiot! I’ve countered that embarrassment with hoping maybe that was for the best, because I did want her to be totally aware of our correspondence and everything. By the way, if she wants me to take our old pictures off the blog, I would – no problem. I realize it might embarrass your kids.

Michael made fun of me for my inability to sing “the first song I ever wrote.” He asked me when I was going to grow up! I don’t think anyone realizes that I have cracked up singing that song with Peaches, too. It is just one of those things.

The only teeny, pang I had was the discussion about my sharing so much on the blog in regards to my children. I think that was painful for me, because I have always been such a devoted mother to my children. I have grappled with what I have done “as therapy.” In my heart, I know you are probably right. My “audience” should be my children, not the blog. This has provoked a lot of soul searching for me. Why would I compromise my relationship with my children? Trust me, I even feel anguish over some of what I’ve written about my parents, too.

I think part of my healing has been expressing my stories with honesty to allow other people to experience what I have. I think that has more to do with the loneliness of facing so many challenges. With the triumphs and miracles I’ve achieved, I know that perhaps my stories and optimism could help others. I feel like this is almost a compulsion, because what could be more important than my own family – strangers? This has been a struggle for me.

As I edit now, I am able to remove things that might upset my children. It was truly wonderful seeing you – you look great! The day I write a new song, I will think of you.

Judy

Hi Judy,

I wouldn’t think that my wife would be upset at all by our 35 year old prom pictures…I had already told her about the blog anyway…those pictures bring back great memories, and I don’t think I have them anymore…I’m glad you kept them (though you could Photoshop them and make me look way cooler!)

I think its a great idea to put some of your best songs on CD, and then perhaps sell them at Border’s…maybe for $10 or so…once you have the CD, they cost nothing to reproduce, and if the price is reasonable, I don’t think anyone is going to spend the time to hunt down and download all of the songs from your website, then transfer them to their iPod…sure, its theoretically possible, but I’ll bet it won’t happen even once. Plus, the songs really do enhance the website…they are a part of your story. I would much rather purchase a CD than hunt down songs anytime!

Remember…age hasn’t affected us…just everyone else!

Judy, you have been completely devoted to your kids and everyone else around you (not that I would have ever expected any different). But I think what we discussed about your kids was echoed by Michael. He said that the kids talk more to him now, because they worry that if they talk to you it will show up on your blog.

On the other hand, you point out that the blog has helped you to heal, and has helped many others who have read it. And the stories are real, genuine, and inspiring. But, the most important thing in your life has got to be your husband and your kids. And the relationship that kids have with their mother is different than the relationship they have with their father. Mothers are special, and fathers can’t fill the place that mothers have in their kids’ world. I believe that your kids need to feel that they can talk to you without worry that the stories…good or bad…will appear on your blog.

Imagine how we would have felt if the same thing happened to us when we were teenagers…that every success or failure we had was immediately reported on the Internet the next day (if such a thing existed). I think that we would not have been as open with our parents. And I don’t think it’s a question of balance, of competing interests. Don’t let anything compromise your relationship with your children…not even the blog (sorry!) You know my only intention is to be helpful, not critical!!…If I were you, I probably wouldn’t post this paragraph on the blog, just something I wanted to say privately to you, but you may post if you want.

Judy, if you do write a new song, you mentioned you would think of me. After my last paragraph, I suspect the title might be “You’re REALLY not the one!!”

Thanks for a great evening…enjoyed meeting the whole family….Sam

Hi Sam,

It’s interesting for me that I could not find a way to write about our evening together. I still have my “writing bug” because I was able to write about another subject this morning.

I think our correspondence would actually be a great thing for the blog. I am totally about sharing how human and flawed I am. I will include the part about my kids and my anguish.

As far as anything you’ve written, I’ll keep your family names, etc. out of it. I love our picture – it looks so cool putting it next to one of the old ones. I’m glad I don’t have to delete any pictures!

Take care, Judy

Ps. You might not have been “The One,” but you still have a special place in my heart. And that comes even after reading your well-intentioned, thoughtful advice. Even your career advice was thoughtful!

On Nov 23, 2010, at 12:08 AM, Sam wrote:

Hi Judy!

First off, it’s fine to post our correspondence.

You are not flawed! Parenting is a challenge for all of us, and you have had to meet challenges that I cannot even imagine. We all have to “course correct” from time to time. Your blog is inspiring…but the relationship that you have with your children and what you have done for them is even more so!

Sorry, I meant to send this earlier tonight…got home from basketball and somehow fell asleep…it was 11:30 when I woke up…more fun in the fifties!…take care!…Sam

For entertainment while Sam and his wife visited with us, our cat climbed up on our bird’s cage.

This cat also liked to drink out of a fishbowl. He and the goldfish used to kiss each other!

© 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.

Tagged acoustic guitar, childhood friendship, composing, Daily Life, Friendship, high school memories, Music, old boyfriend, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, reconnecting, singing, songwriting, writing | Leave a comment

ONE DAY SHE SHARED HER PAIN INSIDE

Posted on November 16, 2010 by Judy

In this picture, I am remembered to remove the electric “pick up” that inserts into my guitar. I have walked away with the cord following me so many times!

Below are excerpts from my lesson with Peaches. She could “feel me” and sense my mood. Her encouragement was very helpful for me. Another interesting coincidence was the fact that she chose a certain song to work on with me (#2). Last night, while listening to our lesson the words reverberated through me, “Who knows what miracles you can achieve when you believe…”

LESSON WITH PEACHES 11/15/10 #1–

LESSON WITH PEACHES 11/15/10 #2

–

I have written that “my songs are my babies,” and preparing a song for recording was “like giving birth.”

That is such a powerful analogy. I remember well how painful childbirth was. And of course, I love my children deeply and that is not truly the emotion I feel for the music I discarded for three decades!

Still, being creative has been both painful and magical for me. I have loved what I’ve been doing, but recently I’ve started feeling tremendous pressure. Sometimes that pressure has me almost paralyzed.

Once again, the image of Cinderella has enveloped me. I have felt like Cinderella at the ball; giddy with the thrill of being someone I’ve never been. My life went from dingy and grey into “a waltz through a palace!” My heart was light as joy radiated from me.

However, it is not possible for me to stay there. My ordinary life is no longer dingy and grey, but it is certainly not a palace. Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury to continue to waltz around.

Perhaps this started for me with the property tax bill, or with almost reaching the end of our equity-line loan limit. My husband, who has been very supportive of my ventures, asked me if we had money to plan a vacation soon. I have been very perplexed trying to sort that one out.

The reality has become that my wonderful, “creative sabbatical” cannot continue indefinitely.

On Saturday morning, I entered Connie’s guesthouse for my hypnotherapy session. She truly wanted to help me with this.

Through a discovery process using imagery, I was able to describe the squeezing sensation of pressure that has begun to paralyze me. It was fascinating for me to visualize my pressure as a large belt tightening around me until I could barely breathe.

She asked me to speak to my image.

I did. I said many things. What was significant was that I said goodbye to that image. And my own words that were the most helpful for me were these:

“Pressure is not necessarily a bad thing. With this pressure comes the motivation to succeed. If I were to continue this way, I might not share with as many people than if I took the chance to actually sell something. A book is much easier to share than a blog. In the end, I might reach more people that way and I could financially continue to do what I’ve enjoyed so much.”

I have been a “one woman production company.” I’ve edited voice lessons, recorded and composed songs, performed, and written my blog posts. At this point in time, my focus has begun to adapt my enormous blog into a book.

I just realized that “fear of failure” is not a good reason to wait anymore.

I sent this letter to my parents when I was eighteen-years-old and attending a month long camp retreat away from home. Reading it reminded me of how much music was a part of my life then! The line at the bottom continued on the back. Those kids were sent home for smoking pot! The song that I wrote and performed was “Farewell.”

I must say goodbye to my “Cinderella” image for a while.

Tagged acoustic guitar, composing, creativity, Daily Life, Friendship, guitar, Hypnotherapy, inspiration, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, voice lessons, writing | Leave a comment

MUSIC AND JOY NOW FILLED HER SOUL

Posted on November 8, 2010 by Judy

This is absolutely how I feel now!

I was very excited to find this sheet in my memory box. I used to play all of these songs. There are fifty on both sides of this piece of notebook paper. I am able to play twenty of them; I have no desire to relearn the other thirty! I cannot play the song “At Seventeen” without laughing.

It is notable that I had to transpose the chords and change the key for those songs I play now. (DEEPER VOICE!)

I entered George’s guesthouse yesterday morning full of confidence in my “improved voice.” I felt a little wistful that I didn’t have any new songs to record, but I was ready to work on finishing all the songs for a CD I’m planning to sell!

I decided that my song, “It Might Have Been,” was almost finished. George added a “bell-tree” effect; which is simply a shimmery, bell-like sound in a few spots. I fixed a few words that were slightly pitchy. It was actually hard work and took many tries to get it right. I wondered if it were worth it for me to be fixing and spending the time. I was amazed that it took a period of over two hours to record a few “fixes,” when I often recorded guitar, vocals, and arrangements within a single session of three hours!

After the two hours there was still more time to work on something else.

George re-opened the song I had wanted to redo – Saying Goodbye. It was one of the only songs I’ve done with such an up-tempo arrangement. “You know, Jude, I could add some electric guitar to this,” George suggested. I told George we’d concentrate on the vocals first and perhaps do that later on.

I began singing. After only two lines, George stopped me.

“Jude! You’re breathy.”

He demonstrated and wailed the words, “SO FEW WORDS AND SO MUCH TO SAY! Come on – you wrote this! Don’t mince around and be delicate! Sing with conviction and stop thinking so much!”

I explained to George – my issue was that I needed to “follow the beat.” I promised not be breathy, although I didn’t want to push and go off pitch. He brought me over some larger headphones and turned up the drums.

He kept wailing the lyrics, in order me to show me that he wanted that kind of passion!

I tried . . . over and over and over again. Eventually, the sweat started to bead up on me. I tried to sing louder. I was singing my original lyrics, so this was a breakup song. I wondered if perhaps that’s why it wasn’t working. I closed my eyes and become angry and emotional. I willed myself to remember that I read the words to this song at Jason’s funeral!

George shook his head, and stopped me again. He told me to listen to the recording so I could understand what he was telling me.

As I sat and listened, I realized he was absolutely right. My singing was simply words and notes – I was not convincing; I was not conveying any emotion. I couldn’t figure out why my tears and sweat weren’t coming through!

Then I had a thought. I told George that my vocal coach, Peaches, had sung this song and i wanted to share her version.

He listened and said, “It’s your song, Jude. Your voice is the voice for this song. I prefer it and I’m certain you can pull it off. It’s not at all about technique. It’s all about feeling the words. Do you want to try again?”

I shook my head, no. I was spent.

He could see I was discouraged. From the very, first day that I met George he said to me, “You are the singer for your songs!”

We both listened to the old version of my song. George agreed that it was far better than what I had done today. I said to George, “You know, it really sounds okay to me. I think I’ll just leave it alone.”

George smiled and said, “If that’s what you want to do, Jude.” He reminded me about the kind of time that is put into professional recordings.

Today, I appreciated his absolute conviction about making my songs be their best. How fortunate I am to have his professional involvement! He could have just collected his money and stayed silent. I also reveled in his compliment that he preferred my singing to Peaches, who is a professional.

Later in the day, I listened to the subtle improvements on “It Might Have Been.” Those “small fixes” gave me intense satisfaction because as I listened to my song, the elements that had bothered me were gone. I enjoyed my song.

I decided that I did have progress today. Perhaps it wasn’t as much as other times, but I am definitely moving forward.

I also appreciate what decent vocals I had done on Saying Goodbye a few months earlier. It was not an easy song to sing! Perhaps I will try again another time, just as I redid “More Than You Know.” I remember well how on that particular song, I was frustrated by my inability to improve upon it during a later session.

I have wondered when I should stop my “discovery phase” and begin promoting myself. Steve, my childhood friend, corresponded with me the other day. I asked him if he liked my recent song, “It Might Have Been.”

Hi Steve,

What did you think of the new song?

I just listened once the day you emailed it & didn’t like it as much as most of the others. I’ll play it some more; sometimes they grab me after 3-4 plays.

Regards, Steve

He Steve,

I figured that you felt that way, when I didn’t hear from you. I appreciate your honesty. I remember “Memory of Love” didn’t grab you initially, either. This one grabbed me a bit, as I’ve been listening to it more.

Me too. It hit me, “this is a MUSICAL song” and then it seemed to fit and made perfect sense.

And so I am beginning to get the idea that I will eventually write my book as “A Musical Story of A Grieving Woman Transformed.” I will edit down my blog posts, and the musical of my life will be stories with music. The book could be an E-book with music, or have a CD included with a printed version.

I can tell I’m “feelin’ it” in that picture!

When I performed at Border’s last night, it was probably the smallest audience I’ve ever had. I looked out and saw that people were leaving before I would even begin playing. Most of them were in their twenties and didn’t want any music distracting them from what they were doing. I felt very much alone.

The room was large, and people were far away from me. No one sat at any of the nearby tables. I decided that I would enjoy singing for myself. I began playing and my voice was clear; I felt confident. I made very few mistakes, if any.

After half an hour, I paused and took a drink. It was interesting for me that my voice was not tired after having sung so much in a single day. It was quiet and there was certainly no applause between songs. I looked at my list. I had played ten of my songs after starting out with one cover song, “If” by Bread.

I played another cover song, and I was surprised to hear clapping. I spoke into the microphone, “Okay, I get it! You like hearing something familiar.” I played another cover song; “You’ve Got A Friend.” The clapping continued. It continued for the rest of the evening.

After I sang a few more of my own songs, I decided to stop. My last song was, “Saying Goodbye.”

As I put down my guitar I said, “You have no idea what great practice this is for me. You should have heard me two months ago!”

A man spoke loudly. He said, “You don’t need any more practice. You sound great!”

I had won over my audience!

I swung my gear bag over my shoulder, clutched my guitar case, and headed alone to my car. I was relieved that I had already called my parents several times and wouldn’t have to make more calls. I loved listening to music in my car. I had been listening to country music to help inspire me to possibly compose something in that direction.

My family was waiting for me to bring them dinner. There was so much laughter at the dinner table, and I was filled with the joy that music had brought me.

There are days when I feel like a shooting star. There are also days when I am so happy to be on earth.

For my birthday, I picked out a new tennis bag. I have never had one in this color or style before – definitely something “new and different!” I need to replace my grips; they look very worn!

When I play doubles with these woman, it isn’t easy to always remember the score! They took me out for lunch on my birthday – I had a blast!

RECENT CORRESPONDENCE:

Hi Sam,

Thank you so much for your comment regarding grief on Post #61 (What is Most Helpful). I’m pondering another grief post with my reply to your comment.

I am so behind with everything. I need to get my mom an extra pillow – my dad has been bugging me.

Judy

Hi Judy,

I have some more questions/thoughts about grieving, but will hold them until I am back from my trip next week, and can be more coherent than I am now. Finally finished packing…everything is in a suitcase, but I still think I get an “F”!

It’s the seemingly unimportant things that we do on a daily basis that define our life and who we are. Who else would care enough to run out and buy your mom an extra pillow?…it’s a big mitzvah! Say hi to her for me!

Now off to zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …..Sam

Hi Sam,

Well now that you mentioned more writing about grief, I will hold off on my writing piece about grief. I actually asked my grief forum for their opinion on this – I had not one response! I think that’s very telling. They are in so much pain that it is trivial for them to answer a philosophical question!

But I did ask two of my fellow grief friends and I have some material from them. I think it is always a good subject for me to write about – grief.

Glad you thought the pillow was a mitzvah – I have a “soft touch.” I got it for her “just in case.” No more stuffing anything!

Judy

Well, it’s definitely a “feather“in your cap!

Never any reason to rush writing…I would be kind of surprised if you could post something without reflecting on it a bit…not every day we get to go back 30 years! Anyone else you want me to find for you? 🙂

Sam

Hi Steve,

It was not a great session today – very disappointing for me.

That happens. Great performances aren’t something you can always just switch on like a light.

Saying Goodbye vocals were a disaster! I sang so many times – I pushed myself to the max. But from the beginning, George didn’t think I captured any feeling for the song.

I agree, you’ve made so much progress. I happened to play the other day one of the brief recordings you did at my apartment that first time you came over. Let’s just say, A LOT OF PROGRESS!!!!!! (and your guitar playing has always been terrific.)

Steve

Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, Caregiving, childhood friendship, composing, creativity, Daily Life, Friendship, guitar, Humor, inspiration, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, puns, singing, songwriting, writing | Leave a comment

DANCE OF DEMENTIA, PART 2

Posted on November 6, 2010 by Judy

This picture was taken at my youngest son’s Bar Mitzvah one year ago this week. Two days after that event, my mom fell. Her ordeal on a respirator followed.

Below is a clip from my voice lesson with Peaches Chrenko. Thank goodness I have music and passion in my life!

11/5/10 LESSON WITH PEACHES – “GETTING THE BEAT”

This picture is from 2007.

I used to notice when my mother said things that were “off the wall.” Now I tend to find myself noticing statements of her awareness instead. I find myself saying, “Wow, she is still on the ball with that remark!”

And so it is, that more often than not, she is not “on the ball.”

LINK TO THE “DANCE OF DEMENTIA” – PART 1

My new, lyric rhymes might be:

She’s not “on the ball”

Her statements are “off the wall!”

I started this post-name as: “I Miss the Way You Used to Be.”

But the “Dance of Dementia” continues for me.

It’s hard to imagine my mom playing ping pong.

What started out as a slow waltz has progressed to a much more frenetic dance. A notable change for me was the following realization:

The personality change is complete. The powerful mother I remember has left me forever. I now have a very anxious mother, who requires tremendous coaching and encouragement to get through her day.

My mom has benefited so much from having a caregiver five hours a day. Her caregiver, Miriam, has told me it is difficult for her to leave, because my mom becomes so sad and scared.

My mom consistently cannot call Miriam by her name. She calls her Mimi, Mary, or Marie. Of course, I know what she means, but I still keep trying to remind her. “Mom! Her name is Miriam!”

It is of no use.

Miriam called me last week when my mother had a rapidly worsening, eye infection. She had not yet received her antibiotic drops and it was mid-afternoon. I immediately called the nurse’s station. The next day when I called, Miriam said that my call achieved results and my mom was much better.

I am angry that my father does not want to hear about extending her caregiver’s hours. Soon, I plan to gather up my strength to counter his opposition. My heart tells me I must do whatever is necessary to make my mother more comfortable.

My life is much more manageable when I know she is managing!

This picture was taken after I finished singing and playing guitar at my mom’s nursing facility last week.

Last week, I brought my guitar and performed at my mother’s nursing facility. I have been hoping to get a picture to post here soon (that was taken by a nurse).

When I arrived, my mom’s eyes were still terribly bloodshot. My mother smiled weakly when I came in carrying my guitar and gear bag. I grinned and stroked her arm. As we sat and waited for me to begin singing, I was taken aback by a comment she made. She said, “You see all these people coming in here? Well they’ve come here for one reason – they’re here to die.”

I said, “Are you sure about that, mom?” As with many of her “off the wall” remarks, I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t think my music would kill them!

I was surprised to have such a large audience. There were perhaps thirty to forty residents encircling me. Everyone was so welcoming and warm. Despite my mother’s anxiety, she was thrilled to have me there. I played for almost forty-five minutes. When I looked over and saw how tired she looked, I knew it was time for me to stop.

Despite her fatigue, my mom radiated happiness. It was so meaningful for me!

I enjoyed every moment singing, because there was so much appreciation in that room. I played all the songs that I remembered my mother loved. Later on, she told me that she especially loved the second song I sang. I found that interesting. It was my wedding song, “Together.”

Two weeks ago, I decided to call my mother’s doctor. I finally expressed concern about her mental condition to a doctor. Recently, my mother had been assigned to a new doctor.

A few days later her new doctor called me and said my mother would be receiving a full physical and mental evaluation. She would discuss everything with me once the results came back. I felt glad that I had instigated the whole process.

Her doctor and I discussed the fact that two, typical medications to stave off dementia (Aricept and Namenda) would probably not be helpful and had too many detrimental, side effects. Well over a year ago, a different doctor prescribed those medications for her. My father did not want her to take them at that time.

It was interesting for me to remember that particular doctor’s words when he prescribed those medications for her last year. He said, “Your mother is quite demented.” I didn’t like the way he said that. It upset me. I switched doctors after that.

A lot has changed for my mother since then.

So now, I’ve decided I want confirmation of the fact that my mom has had a significant mental decline in the last few months. I’ve wondered if her mental decline could be a side effect of another medication or a deficiency; perhaps it could be something treatable?

My intuition tells me it is not treatable.

I look so happy in this picture (my brother, Howard, is on the left). I am no longer the “little girl.” I have so much on my shoulders!

I was relaxed after my morning hypnotherapy session this morning. It was sunny earlier that morning, but as I walked to my car it was windy and cooler. There were leaves swirling around me as I deeply breathed in the autumn air. My plan was to take my mother out to lunch.

I knew I would surprise her, since I cannot tell her any kind of plan without giving her tremendous anxiety.

As I drove to her facility, my father called me. He said something had happened only a few minutes earlier – he wanted to prepare me. I listened and could feel my stomach tightening up.

It seemed that my mother was left alone in an unfamiliar bathroom too long. She was banging and calling for help; she had panicked and stood up. That was dangerous for her, and when the nurses came to her she was admonished.

My mother is often quite paranoid. When I arrived she was sobbing as soon as she saw me. She said she was a “prisoner!”

I told her I was going to take her out. Her face was ashen and so worried. I felt so powerful and important – she was helpless and small, and I was so “big.”

This memory came hurtling back – I was walking home from elementary school. There were two, large bullies following me; they were taunting me. I turned around and told them to stop. A fight ensued and I remember swinging my lunchbox at them. It was ineffective and I was gasping with the anger and frustration.

Suddenly, a car pulled up with my mother inside calling my name through the open passenger window. The bullies ran away. I jumped in the car, and I told my mother what had happened in between my racking sobs. She gunned the engine to chase the bullies.

The bullies went down an alley, and we didn’t see them. But they were scared and running away; that was all that mattered to me!

At that moment, my mom was wearing the cape I am wearing now!

An old, birthday card. I have many of these.

“We’re escaping this place,” I told her. I practically raced with her wheelchair to my car. I lifted her into my minivan. She has had a harder and harder time getting out of her wheelchair.

As we had lunch, I managed to lift her spirits. She was still very confused and unable to find the words or names for simple things.

I danced along, not sure how often to point things out for her. I kept re-directing her to other topics, but she had a lot of difficulty letting go of what had happened before I arrived.

My heart broke when she said, “I told them how I wanted to call my daughter, and they laughed at me!”

When I asked her if she wanted me to get involved and file a complaint, she quickly said no. Her fear was palpable. She really believed she was imprisoned. It didn’t help at all to tell her otherwise.

I was surprised that she didn’t seem upset sharing that a friend of hers had recently died. Most of her friends have moved far away to live with or near their daughters. Another good friend of hers is so confused that my mother told me, “She keeps repeating herself!”

A week ago, I received a call from another friend of my mothers. She wanted to know if she should break the news to my mom that still another friend had a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. That surprised me since I had spoken to this other friend and she always seemed fairly sharp.

I made it clear to this friend that it would not benefit my mother to share the information with her.

A picture of my mom with her good friend a year ago at my youngest son’s Bar Mitzvah.

We were on our way back to the facility and I could feel relief flooding through me. I had managed so well with my cape on! Then my mother insisted that she knew my father held a secret job. I decided to argue with her.

I said, “Come on, mom! You know dad has no social skills or energy to hold a job! He doesn’t drive – where could he possibly be working? I don’t think he’s working for the facility!”

She said, “Well, he is working for them and I know exactly what his job is. You know, there are thieves in this facility! It’s his job to investigate!”

I couldn’t stop myself, as I explained all the reasons I could think of that this didn’t make sense.

Finally, I gave up. There was no point.

This “dance of dementia” is no longer graceful.

I parked at her facility and lifted her gently from my car into her wheelchair. She looked so tired.

When I came into the lobby of her building at the facility, I pushed her wheelchair up to the front desk. There were several nurses sitting there. They quickly told me what had happened, and how my mother had panicked in the bathroom. They insisted she had not been left alone for very long.

In my presence they smiled as they told her – you are not being punished or imprisoned!

Her lip was trembling, as she tried hard not to cry.

My voice was tight. I said, “I want a message sent to her doctor. It has been two weeks! I want to know what is going on with the mental evaluation. I am concerned about what is going on and I need to know!”

I cannot wait any longer to find out what I already know.

This card is special for me because my dad actually wrote something. That is very rare!

Below is a recent attachment that I found in my memorabilia box. It is a creative writing assignment I did in elementary school. It is similar to the story that I told in Dance of Dementia – Part 1. That was the story about how I was lost in the woods; except it’s interesting that the ending is different. The actual time when I was lost, I was rescued after I knocked on another cabin’s door and a woman drove me around. Interesting how in my writing assignment – well, I found my way out by myself!

Transcription of I Was Homesick

I sat quietly as our car bumped along the curvy road. Yawning, I noticed a sign. It said, “2 more miles to Lake Arrowhead.” I sensed that my family and I were almost there.

Fifteen minutes later the car screeched to a halt. A rickety cabin stood in front of me. “Hey ma,” I said, “Is this where we’re spending the weekend?”

She told me yes, and I (happily) examined the rustic house. There was an enticing smell throughout the house.

Subsequently, that night I woke up to the sunlight rays that broke through the window glaring down on me in the morning. I remembered that I had been allowed to explore around the house.

Walking out into the crisp morning air I saw a cluster of shiny flowers with glistening dw drops on them that intrigued me. I laid down and touched the soft, fragrant little petals when I noticed a mossy, gloomy trail.

I got up and followed the trail for a time when suddenly I came to a dead-end. The place was thick with growth so the path was hardly seen. I then noticed a long beautiful tree for climbing. I had just walked to the tree when I noticed a red berry bush.

Suddenly, I realized it was late and I’d better get back to the cabin. I looked around for the large climbing tree but it was not there. I searched for an hour it seemed to me, and finally I rested on a log. Sadly, I realized I was really lost. The rotted log I sat upon was swarming with ants.

Perversely, I stared about. I was homesick. I began to wish our family didn’t go on vacation. I wouldn’t have gotten lost otherwise. Nonchalantly, I noticed the branch of a tree blending with the overgrowth. “What camouflage,” I laughed. It was that same tree I wanted to climb. I found the path hurriedly and rushed back to the cabin. When I cam back I gasped. I had been gone only an hour. My parents weren’t even up. I wasn’t homesick anymore. In fact, I was happy that I wasn’t lost for long.

The End.