myjourneysinsight

RETREAT – PART 3

Posted on August 7, 2015 by Judy

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Link to Song Page with more about my song RETREAT

RETREAT

Retreat is where I go when I am sad

All my tears let me know

I long for you and miss you so

Retreat is my escape from the world

I withdraw and suddenly

I feel you surround me

At those times, I’d wish you were near

and then, you’d appear

But you were only in my mind,

only in my mind, you were only in my mind

Retreat is when a song soothes my soul

A melody fills my heart

reminding me we’re not apart

Retreat is where I find peacefulness

My music has begun

to be my true companion

At those times, I’d wish you were near

and then, you’d appear

but you were only in my mind

only in my mind,

you were only in my mind

only in my mind

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This image is a way for me to depict “Melody.” She represents my musical inspiration.

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retreat

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verb: withdrawal, flight, give way, fall, recede, ebb, wane, retire

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noun: haven, escape, sanctuary, isolation, solitude, hideaway, refuge

The word “retreat” is very profound for me. As a verb, I see negative meanings. As a noun, I see positive meanings. The “black and white” implications of those definitions relate well to my own personal struggle with extreme thinking.

I wrote my song “Retreat” when I was nineteen. But I can truly relate to my song at this time in my life. When I developed dry eye problems in 2012, social situations became tough for me. It’s been three years that I’ve lived with dry eye disease.

I see retreating as a way to escape from pain. I basically have surrendered to my condition. Stress causes my eyes to worsen, so I strive to keep my environment comfortable. Inner peace allows me to function, so every day my goal is to maintain serenity.

Recently, I tried a few new remedies for my eyes, but found it discouraging when every single one caused my eyes to worsen.

I get depressed when I long for the eyes I had in the past. Acceptance and appreciation for what I’m able to do despite this is where I’ve put my focus. It is not easy, but familiar – it reminds me of how I coped with grief. I have a strong belief that healing is possible. I tell myself on bad days that things will get better. I never want to give up hope.

This is my song sheet from 1980 that helped me remember my song. I did not remember the melody for the verses and composed new chords for them 31 years later.

Retreat is one of three songs of mine that have different rhythms between the verse and chorus (the other two are “You Were There” and “How We Don’t Care.”

My first arrangement of Retreat in 2011 didn’t fulfill my vision for my song. It was a challenging song to sing. I hoped one day I could revisit it and do my song justice.

A year later, I revised the lyrics further and my arranger George created a second version. This past month, I sang another new vocal for it. It is not for an album release because I plan to revise the arrangement again someday to improve the rhythm transitions.

But for now, I’m glad I didn’t abandon this song because it gave me a lot of insight!

To hide and withdraw seems negative; it represents surrendering and giving up. Yet, finding serenity within that escape is truly a beautiful concept.

When I wrote my song as a young girl, I was definitely discouraged. Yet when I retreated, I found inner peace through my music. That happened again for me because of music later in my life.

The chorus was originally written with words expressing disappointment. It went:

“At those times I’d wish you were there, but you never were – you were only in my mind.”

In 2012, I changed the chorus words ever so slightly – I wanted a more positive feeling for my song. The chorus change was also an improvement because I liked the perfect rhymes. My new words were:

At those times I’d wish you were near and then you’d appear – but you were only in my mind.”

I don’t see the lyric line of “only in my mind” as being negative. I believe thoughts are powerful; they lead to how I feel and can become my reality. What is in my mind often leads to a beautiful song and that helps heal me.

This old watercolor of mine is a good image for my song; lots of cascading turmoil often leads me to a beautiful place.

I see the concept of being surrounded (as in my song “Beside Me Always”) as a very spiritual one.

Even though I wrote Retreat at 19, when I revised it 30 years later I thought it was a prophecy (like many other of my early songs.) I wanted to envision my deceased son, Jason appearing to me. When that didn’t happen, I imagined it might be my mother. She always comforted me when I was sad and died a year after I revised my lyrics.

But the truth was that every time I sang Retreat, I didn’t picture anyone appearing. That made it very hard for me to connect to my song. So who was near to me in my mind?

Then last week when I sang a new vocal, I found my answer. My own lyrics unlocked the mystery for me with the words below:“

Retreat, is when a song can soothe my soul. A melody fills my heart, reminding me we’re not apart.”

It was “Melody!”

When I wrote the revised lyrics to Retreat in 2012, my subconscious was acknowledging that I had a guardian angel/fairy named “Melody.” Melody could also be synonymous with God. Her presence kept me safe; she offered me a blanket of musical comfort and protection from the world outside.

Melody is a shining star in my life and whispers in my ear to heal.

With my eye condition, I feel safest when I am at home. Even though that can be isolating, I seldom feel lonely. I only need to open my heart to find “Melody” if I am discouraged.

Last week, I was at my computer working on a new vocal line for Retreat. My eyes were bothering me so I stopped what I was doing and picked up my guitar to play.

It had been several months since I’d composed a new song. It felt unlikely – I did not have any new ideas or a burning desire to write anything. But as I played, I discovered a few sweet chords and felt soothed by their progression.

A week later, I shared those chords with my arranger, George. He wrote them out quickly and played them on his piano; it sounded beautiful! He asked me if I had any more chords. Surprisingly I did – but I didn’t think they were any good. George said, “Jude, you underestimate your abilities – your chords will work fine!”

Within two sessions an arrangement was completed and I was in awe that I had a new song so quickly. But my new song didn’t have any words or vocal melody!

George asked me what to name it and I said, “In The Past.”

That statement was such a beautiful one I had made at my last hypnotherapy session. Just thinking about overcoming dreadful things in my past inspired me.

I went to work and quickly wrote lyrics that would once again help me cope with any stress and sadness in my life.

The last line of the chorus announced that I found my wings. They were the ones that allowed me to escape from pain. Ironically, I had just finished another song a few months ago named “You Are My Wings.” For that song, I also allowed Melody to be my wings.

I could easily write another story about all the things in my life that I have cried over. And most of those things that happened to me are the reason I am flying now. Instead of retreating from pain or being imprisoned by it, I took off.

I wanted to see what I had already written about “Retreat” and it was an amazing coincidence when I saw some lyrics in progress attached to my story named “Retreat-Part 2.” They carried the same theme that my new song did. Retreat was a prophecy for “In The Past.”

It was even more moving for me because of what I was living with when I wrote that older story.

Link to Part 2 of this story:

Story about Retreat – Part 2

Three years ago, I was completely despondent. I was miserable in my marriage and couldn’t share my feelings with anyone. I was depressed watching my parents suffer and decline.

On “Retreat-Part 2,” I shared a picture of my father. In that same picture, my mother can be seen asleep at the table. She could barely communicate because of her dementia and oh, how I missed her. And that was the last picture I took of my father, because he died two weeks later.

It was one month after my father died, that I found the courage to tell my husband I wanted a divorce.

On that story, I wrote how I had heart palpitations from stress. And my eye problems were beginning; I wrote how I had gone to urgent care with strange symptoms and visual disturbances.

During that awful time, I lived inside my mind. My haven and refuge was with my beloved “Melody.” She took care of me and I created many soothing songs because of her. Those melodies guided me through.

Now three years later, all of the stress I was living with in Part 2 is in the past.

That was why I was able to compose my new uplifting song, which helps me heal.

Thank you, “Melody.”

Click the blue link to hear a rough recording of my new song. It is still very new but progressing nicely. I love it!

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© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2015. 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.

BYE, BYE, ZOMBIELAND – PART 2

Posted on July 27, 2015 by Judy

This is where I’ve been doing some new guitar recordings, as well as stories for an audio book. My engineer sits at the mixing board near the window when I am recording. Sometimes, the birds are chirping too loudly and he goes outside to shoo them away.

Click the blue link below to hear one of my recent guitar recordings:

For several years, I planned to eventually release an enormous audio book, which I recorded in 2012. I kept waiting, mostly because that audio book had a lot of problems for me.

I wondered whether I was overly preachy about healing from grief on some of my stories. My voice sounded artificial in many parts and the recordings were over-processed.

But I also felt that the two stories I recorded about the loss of my son, Jason were definitely worth sharing. My emotional rendition was something I couldn’t imagine recreating.

Now that I was close to finishing my first vocal CD, I decided I wanted to release a smaller audio book; it would include Jason’s story and a few other stories I was comfortable with. I planned to record a new and updated introduction.

For two years, I struggled with writing it. I was dealing with the deaths of both my parents and a divorce after a long marriage. I wanted to be upbeat and positive and knew it was best to give myself time to heal.

After hiring an assistant to help me two months ago, my progress toward releasing my music accelerated. Suddenly, I was filled with enthusiasm because my eyes had slightly improved. I wrote a new introduction that felt inspiring and honest.

I was ready to record it and did microphone tests in several places. I picked a place working with an engineer whom I knew from Kulak’s Woodshed (where I often performed at open mics). He did not have a “soundproof” studio. But he had a microphone that remarkably softened sibilance; that “s” sound drove me crazy on my older recordings.

It had been three years since I’d recorded spoken audio. When I began to speak my new introduction, the engineer told me I was speaking too quietly. Unfortunately, having a soft voice caused more “room noise” to enter the microphone and that included my breathing, too.

I tried to speak louder, but then I sounded like I was shouting. Eventually, I gave up worrying about it. My book was my creation and I was the vehicle. My voice would have to be good enough.

Originally, I thought I’d only record a new introduction to go along with seven older recordings. But the new introduction sounded so nice, that I decided to record five other stories. I still planned to use the two older recordings of Jason’s story.

The first story I recorded was named “I Opened The Box.” It was about how I prepared myself to write about Jason’s life and death. The last line was, “I was finally ready to write about losing my child.”

That box was in my closet and the story about opening it up after 18 years brought up many feelings. The memories from that time in my life were vivid. I felt as if I could easily picture Jason and his preschool classmates.

Before I left, the soft-spoken man who recorded me said, “I just want you to know that I cannot imagine what it must be like to lose a child. I don’t know what to say – I am so sorry.” I let him know his words were appreciated.

I wrote this poem when I was in deep grief.

It was after recording the story about opening the box, I made the decision to re-record the two stories about Jason. That way, all of the new recordings would match.

My new assistant was adamant that I record in a way that wasn’t overly emotional. I had received feedback like that before over the last few years. Too much emotion was a distraction for the listener.

But I also remembered how my story affected other people. Two good friends both told me, “Judy, when I was listening to your story, I had to pull over. It was so heart-rending that I had trouble driving.”

There were two stories about Jason. The first part was about his birth and first surgery when he was an infant. It ended before he was scheduled to have a second surgery at the age of five.

My stories were practically memorized because I’d listened to them so many times.

I managed to record those stories and there was still plenty of emotion. There were a few paragraphs where waves of emotion tugged at my voice, but I simply repeated them. It was far less than when my voice was teary on the older recordings, so I considered it to be an improvement.

When I was finished recording the second part, I came home and quietly ate lunch. I was exhausted and took a nap. In the afternoon, I was able to record vocals, which was uplifting for me. In the evening, I had dinner plans that I was looking forward to.

I wrote those words above two years after Jason died. The opera of his death played for me for well over a decade.

Below are the paragraphs leading up to where my voice was hijacked by emotion, despite my determination to speak smoothly. The phrases that caused my voice to shake are in italics.

1. When the elevator door opened, Jason’s voice piped out brightly, “Goodbye Gramma!” The mere mention of those words launched my mother into gut-wrenching sobs for years. They were Jason’s very last words on earth. The opera of Jason’s death now begins!

2. The surgeon came to see me – she was crying. I told her, “Go away!” I decided I didn’t have to listen to any more technical jargon about cardiac abnormalities every again.

3. It was soon time for me to go in and face seeing death. It would be the first dead person I had ever seen in my life. His eyes were open and unforgettable. They were lifeless and empty. Only the night before, those same eyes were intelligent – sparkling with joy and laughter. There was no question that he was gone and this was only a corpse.

4. Every year when it becomes fall, I remember that he is dead. The leaves that fall represent his body crumpling into a pile of dust. That first Halloween was less than a month after he died. All I could think of was his skeletal body in the cold ground. The scary monsters were nothing compared to what I conjured up in my mind.

5. The sympathy cards continued to arrive. The preschool took extra special care of my surviving son. He needed it. His mother had vacated the “mommy premises.”

6. Books have been written about the stages of grief. I have lived all of those stages. The numbness was bizarre. There was no sense of time. Eating, sleeping, living seemed outside the realm of what it once was. There was no purpose for anything anymore. The most difficult moment of every single day was to wake up and face what had happened. I did not want to wake up again, ever!

7. I looked at the sky, could he be there? I looked at a bird, at a butterfly; could his soul be visiting me? I strained to hear his voice again; was he calling for his mommy? There was no color in the world anywhere; there was nothing but shades of gray. It did not seem possible that it could get any worse. It did not seem possible that it could get any better. It was what it was: Empty. Sad. Excruciating. Endless!

8. Eventually, I cleaned out his room. For a bereaved parent, it is a difficult step to face. I spent many days crying on his bed, holding one of his shirts against my cheek. I had to face going to other children’s birthday parties with my living children. I had to walk through the market and not cry when I saw the food I used to buy for him. I had to learn how to live while seeing children his age continue to grow up. I had to accept that he would never grow up. He would never outlive me. He would never be anything but what he was.

Below is a link to the story that carries much of the material I recorded:

#33 JASON MARK, HE LEFT HIS MARK

I wrote a song named “Every Season” in 2011 and it was the first new song I composed after over 30 years. So discovering this plaque was very touching for me. Jason was memorialized with the line of: “A child of all seasons.”

I showered and looked forward to seeing my friends for dinner. As I drove, I listened to my other new audio stories about music, which were very upbeat unlike the story I had recorded in the morning.

I picked up one of my friends and we met our other two friends at a restaurant nearby. We all hugged and had a lot of catching up to do. I liked listening to my friends talk about things going on with them. I was fairly quiet.

My passion for music and illustration work kept me isolated. I knew it was really good for me to be with them. I blinked back the annoying fog in my eyes and noticed that they weren’t hurting as much as they usually did. I was grateful for that.

We all finished eating and it was soon time to go home. As the other women were going over the check, I excused myself to go to the restroom.

As I left the table, I marveled that my heart felt light. Being with my friends really lifted my spirits. I was walking back from the restroom when I heard a voice call my name. It was coming from a table on the other side of the restaurant.

I walked closer and the woman at the end of the table reached out her hands to me. With an animated voice she said, “Judy, do you remember me? It’s Tamara!”

I looked at her closely and recognition began to grow. I was in shock for a moment as the realization hit me. I said, “Yes! Your daughter was in Jason’s preschool class and we were in the same “Mommy and Me” class, too.”

Tamara smiled warmly and said, “Yes, and she’s right here next to me. This is Ashley. And let me introduce you to her husband.” A beautiful couple beamed at me.

I remembered this mother and her child. Tamara was at Jason’s funeral and had brought a dinner over to my house a week later. The memory was especially clear because of the stories I’d recorded over the past week – how eerie that was!

Tamara was kind and warm. She squeezed my hand and her eyes widened as she said, “You know, I have never forgotten Jason and his adorable freckled face. Whenever I hear the song that was played at his funeral, I think of him.” That song (The Lion Sleeps Tonight) was Jason’s favorite one.

I smiled at Tamara and said, “I’m so touched that you remember him; thank you for sharing that with me.”

Yes, Jason would have been 28 years old if he had lived but he was frozen in time at the age of five. I noticed that my heart wasn’t aching as I looked at Tamara and her beautiful grown up daughter. It demonstrated to me how the overwhelming grief that had ruled my life for decades was truly gone.

I told Tamara how I had embraced music five years ago. Jason was a gift and returned to my life in a different way. I carried him in my songs and in my heart. I had healed.

Tamara said, “I always wondered what happened to you. I am so glad to see you looking this way – radiant and joyful.”

As I walked back to join my friends, I felt quite inspired. My past, present and future swirled around me such a beautiful way!

I am in the top center spotlight with Jason, The red arrow points to Tamara and her daughter, Ashley.

Link to Part 1 of this story: #23 BYE, BYE ZOMBIELAND – PART 1

In 2010 when I first began writing this blog, I also wrote about the experience of meeting another mother from Jason’s preschool class 18 years later in a market.

Zombieland represented the many years I plodded through life in a way that was “deadened.” Even though I was healing when I wrote the first part of this story, I really had no idea what was ahead for me. How beautiful it is for me to write a second part to that story with the insights I have five years later.

Zombieland is even farther behind me now because I completely turned my life around. I am alive!

And very grateful for every minute of my life.

Posted in Grief Stories | Tagged acknowledging grief, adjusting from grief, Audio book recording, changing your life, child's death, childhood friendship, compassionate friends, creativity, death, death of a child, Empathy and Grief, finding happiness after losing a child, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, happiness after death of a child, healing and grief, healing from grief, hope, hope for healing, hope of healing, inspiration, is happiness possible after losing a child, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a child, optimism, optimism after loss, Ordinary Life, overcoming grief, staying positive, surviving grief, zombieland | 3 Comments

I AM HUMAN

Posted on July 18, 2015 by Judy

This is not an illustration of a pear – it’s a trio!

Two weeks ago, I completed a large assignment of 21 fruit and vegetable illustrations. It took me about 3 weeks, instead of the month that I estimated it would take.

I couldn’t believe that I received another new assignment the day after I finished that large project. My above illustration of pears was done a few days ago; it is one of 4 new illustrations I’m working on for Tillamook Dairy Company.

This is my layout. The final painting had smoother lighting and coloration. The leaf on the left was removed.

Now I feel compelled to share some puns about pears.

My love for pears is appearent. And I’m also a pearant. I’d love to go to Pearis. Perhaps I should write a pearable about pears.

I’d better move onto another pearagraph because I’m sounding like a pearrot.

Okay, those weren’t very good puns. I’m a bad girl.

This leads me into what I really want to write about – Good girl vs. bad girl syndrome.

For me, that syndrome represents an extreme or “black and white” way of thinking. Ridding my life of judgment and criticism has been my goal now for the last 3 years. Yet it’s hard to wipe out associations that are lodged in my subconscious because of what I heard so often when I was growing up.

“Good girls never accept a date at the last minute. Good girls don’t travel. Good girls don’t live on their own before marriage. Good girls are virgins.”

Seeing pictures of myself in the apartment where I’m now living is like time travel. This year, I replaced the black and white floor and love the new look. I’m wondering why I have such a scrunched up expression in this picture with my dad. I’m holding a ruler – perhaps I had an art project back then that I was working on!

I learned early on what I needed to do to be a “good girl.” I was unable to express myself. And I lived with denial in order to keep any angry feelings shoved down.

Lately, there are things my former husband has done that upset me greatly. But because of our children, I won’t share any details on my blog about it.

I know that I haven’t been dealing with it in a healthy way because of obvious clues. I made an emergency visit to my dentist because I was suffering with intense jaw pain. It was from clenching my teeth and that was something new. I have been biting the nails on my left hand (not on the right, because I use that hand to pluck my guitar strings). And it’s been really hard for me to stay on track with my eating; for several months I’ve been working hard to lose weight.

If I were to write a Princess and the Dragon story using metaphors, I would describe my situation as one where I could feel the dragon breathing fire and smoke in my doorway. Of course, I pretended that nothing was happening most of the time even though I was choking.

Once again, I’m wondering what my expression is about in this photo. It looks like I’m thinking about my pet lizard.

Once again, I’m wondering what my expression is about in this photo taken on my patio with my mom. It looks like I’m thinking about my pet lizard.

A few weeks ago, I hoped that I’d find some tools to help me during my hypnotherapy session.

I told my therapist, Connie, how frustrating it was to flip back and forth between being “the bad one” and “the good one.” I wanted to find another way to think about all of this but I couldn’t find any middle ground and it was frustrating.

I was being plagued by “good girl/bad girl syndrome!”

I had expended every ounce of my energy into loving and supporting all three of my children since my separation. In the last three years, I witnessed their spectacular growth and was certain that my involvement made the difference. That made me “the good one.”

As I wrote on my last post about my song “The Door,” when I ended my marriage I had a lot of guilt. I felt like I was a traitor who shocked my husband when I ended our marriage. I received a lovely comment this past week. The words from a dear blogger friend, Sandra Callahan really uplifted me:

I am at a loss for words when I read your interpretation of the events surrounding your “awakening.” You are so gifted and talented! It is sad your ex did not appreciate these gifts as well as your sharp wit and humor. It is sad that he chooses to make choices that have a negative impact on those who deserve his love and protection. If anyone was a “traitor” in this sad story it is he. It is hard for me to think someone so full of joy and laughter endured so many years of heartbreak.

Whatever heartbreak I’ve endured is in the past and my joy is because I am hopeful that it is behind me now.

I was hopeful that perhaps while I was under hypnosis I would gain some insight. I heard Connie’s voice in the distance and quickly drifted off.

After a few minutes, I spoke aloud to Connie with my eyes closed. I told her that nothing seemed to come to me that could replace the good girl/bad girl theme. I concentrated, but still I drew a blank.

Then I said aloud, “I know I’m a devoted mom so I wonder why I feel so badly. I’m not trying to make my ex look bad, but some of his actions toward our children make me so angry. I am powerless and alone with my thoughts. I cannot express my anger because it is inappropriate for my children to know about it. Sometimes when they ask me what is wrong, it seeps out and I say things I wish I hadn’t.”

I said tearfully, “I’m only human!”

At that moment, I realized that I had hit upon something. Being human . . .

That was such a beautiful alternative. I had found a way to replace “black and white!”

Being human gave me permission to feel upset and to make mistakes. Being human helped me understand that it wasn’t about being “bad;” it wasn’t an excuse either. It helped to explain my reactions when I was under tremendous pressure.

Before our session ended I blurted out, “It’s incredible to know how much my ex hates me after spending 31 years together!”

Connie wrote something down and then said sweetly, “That’s a story you could hold onto. How does it feel when you think of it that way?”

I grinned and knew the answer to that. I loved my therapist and she was waiting for me to come up with a replacement story. Out it came with the words of: “It’s in the past!”

Connie’s voice was enthused. “Yes, tell me more about that!”

I said, “Just like grief – I remember many sad and horrible things. But when it’s in the past, it reminds me of how far I’ve come – how I’m beyond the pain and living in a much better place.”

I left our session with a huge smile. I was thinking of all the things in my past that were behind me now. And then I started thinking about all the things I had to look forward to.

Perhaps there were things I still had to deal with related to “the dragon.” My plan was to vent more to friends so as not to feel overwhelmed by anger when I was around my children. Friends sure made a difference.

This picture was taken this past Mother’s Day. It was the best one I ever experienced, no doubt about that.

My children are more important than anything else in the world to me. I am always demonstrating how much I love them and revel in their accomplishments. I do try to avoid writing about them, but I am going to share a few details because I’m a proud mom.

This past week, my 18-year-old son began learning to drive. I signed him up for a few private lessons and he drove with me on a small errand yesterday. Then today, I courageously allowed him to go on the freeway. Sharing all of this with him was very ~~nerve wracking~~ exciting. Thankfully, he stayed cool and collected even though I was very ~~hysterical~~ serious.

On top of that, a few weeks ago he began working as a volunteer at Kulak’s Woodshed where I perform regularly. He is very well liked and appreciated – (On my Facebook music page, he can be seen setting up my microphone for a recent video performance.) Since summer began, I’ve nagged him to get a job. Volunteering was a backup plan that I hope he’ll continue doing. Well today he landed his first job! He will be working at a nearby movie theatre. I am bursting with pride and can hardly contain my joy.

My daughter and I are extremely close. Recently, she’s made many changes to her life. I try very hard to refrain from being critical or judgmental. I’ve been rewarded because she shares so many personal things with me. I always encourage her with the statement of, “Honey, I know you will figure things out and do what is best for you.” I am so proud of her courage. Recently, she told me she wants to travel somewhere with me. We are both thinking about where we will go.

My oldest son amazed me this week. He reached out and called his sister so they could “go bowling and hang out.” They had a great time together. The next day, he went out of his way to fix a TV someone was discarding. He wanted to give it to his sister. He spent over $100 of his own money and then drove over to her apartment with a friend to install it. Just thinking about his thoughtfulness chokes me up.

I’m glad I could update my blog. More is coming. I have been in a phase of productivity that is astonishing. On top of working as an illustrator, I’ve accomplished more in the last two months than I have in two years with my music and audio projects. It’s all because I’ve hired an assistant to help me.

I feel blessed. And I am very human!

I have several boxes of CD’s ordered that are on their way. Where will I put all those boxes in my tiny apartment?

© 2015 by Judy Unger 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.

Tagged adjusting to divorce, artist, bad girl, Bartlett, being human, black and white, creativity, dealing with anger, disillusionment in a relationship, divorce after a long marriage, facing divorce after a long marriage, food illustrator, fruit illustration, good girl, gratefulness, gray divorce, guitar, Hypnotherapy, illustrator, inspiration, journey toward healing, Judy Unger, love, memories and divorce, navigating divorce after a long marriage, optimism, Ordinary Life humor hypnotherapy parenting, passionate songwriter, pear, pear illustration, pears, puns, relationships, sadness end of marriage, Sandra Callahan, songwriter, songwriting, the princess and the dragon | 10 Comments

THE DOOR – PART 4

Posted on July 4, 2015 by Judy

This image will be on the back of my upcoming vocal CD release. I went through the door and a pine forest is a beautiful image of following my dreams.

This image will be on the back of my upcoming vocal CD release. I went through the door and a pine forest represents a beautiful image where I am going to follow my dreams.

Clicking the blue link plays audio:

The Door Acoustic 5-16-18

Link to song page with performance and more links: THE DOOR

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THE DOOR

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When I close the door and it’s no secret anymore

Then you’ll know; how sad we were together

I left you long ago

When the closet is bare, empty spaces everywhere

But you knew, the truth that I was absent

My distance only grew

When love went away, I just couldn’t stay

It was time; I knew it then

To begin my life again

I would be ok, even though love went away

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

When the sheets are still; silence a TV cannot fill

All those years, pretending I was happy

I cried so many tears

As you look upon the empty spaces when I’m gone

You must face, the love you took for granted

with every empty space

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When love went away, I just couldn’t stay

It was time; I knew it then

To begin my life again

I would be ok, even though love went away

I left because I was worth more

I went through the door

Link to other stories about this song:

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Story behind THE DOOR-PART 1

Story behind THE DOOR-PART 2

Story behind THE DOOR-PART 3

https://youtu.be/cLg-He1HF54–

On my new version of this song, I made a lyric change. I didn’t like singing “vanished.” The new line became, “The love you took for granted.”

I’ve written about the theme of letting go with many of my songs.

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It was nearly impossible for me to let go when my young son died. I let go of my own life for a long time. Inside I felt like I died with him and it was a struggle to simply wake up every morning.

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When both my parents died, it was terrible to see their suffering. The process of adjusting to their absence has not been easy. But I have adjusted and I know they would be proud of me.

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Letting go of fear has been another theme for me. It took courage for me to leave my marriage of over three decades.

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Unlike losing a child, divorce is commonplace so it surprises me that I’ve felt so isolated. Even though my marriage held little affection or companionship, I find myself mourning all of the dreams I once had. And I often bury myself with guilt over destroying my former husband’s dreams.

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Now that three years have gone by since my announcement, my children seem to have adjusted to this huge change in their lives. But after many years of taking care of my former husband, I live with the knowledge that I upended his life. He never expected I would leave and I try not to think of myself as a traitor.

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My ex-husband has taken full advantage of his position. Recently I have felt very angry with some of his choices that affect our children. I am not very good at dealing with anger. It is frustrating because I cannot write or talk about it as much as I wish I could.

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The thought that constantly occupies my mind has been, “I don’t deserve this!” as well as, “His children don’t deserve this!”

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What a huge trigger of sadness that is for me. It sends me to a place of thinking about all the things I’ve dealt with that weren’t fair in my life – and that is on top of my empty marriage.

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Anger and guilt are two wrestling emotions that love to hide in my shadow. I turn around with surprise to find them still there behind me. And I desperately want to let both of them go.

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Three years ago, it was a 4^th of July I’d never forget. Only a few days before I had finally gotten the courage to tell my husband I wanted a divorce. We continued to sleep in the same bed and on Independence Day we had a family outing with our children to watch fireworks like we always had.

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I was numb and in a fog. I carried chairs and a bag with snacks for everyone; I walked far ahead of my husband. Our children pretended they were fine. As the fireworks above exploded, I felt my head and heart flinch with every crackle. I was digesting the awareness that my life was forever changed and his was, too. I was the perpetrator of so much unhappiness!

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There are many lyric lines in my song “The Door,” which give me insight. The first line of my chorus is the one that sets the stage for me to leave with the words of: “When love went away, I just couldn’t stay. . .”

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And the most powerful line is: “I left because I was worth more.” That line is my antidote for “I don’t deserve this.”

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I see a door as a metaphor for making a choice. Leaving (or even staying) is a choice, just like letting go. And choices are empowering. For me, I had lived too many years worrying about making everyone around me happy. I wanted to pursue my dreams without constant criticism and pressure. This was all about feeling that my life was valuable enough for me to take a chance at finding happiness.

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I’m not worth more than my ex-husband. He deserves to be happy, too. He was very unhappy with our relationship even if he couldn’t admit it to me. I stayed for a long time because I was afraid of changing my life. It was an abyss that seemed terrifying to jump into.

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How in the world would I survive? I married when I was 21 and never lived on my own before that. I’m self-employed and an artist. Would I be able to support myself?

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It seems that I’ve overcome my fears because I most certainly have survived.

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In this picture, I am standing looking out the door of my former house I lived in for almost twenty years.

My song “The Door” gave me the courage to change my life. This new arrangement definitely pulls at my heartstrings; I feel comforted with every word.

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For the last three years, I’ve focused my life upon healing through singing my songs. I make choices that lead me to peace and inspiration. It’s no coincidence that my last song composition was named “Peaceful and Inspired.”

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But I want to move forward now to go through some new doors. The best way for me to do that is to remain in a state of awe and wonder.

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I am in awe that I actually had the courage to change my life.

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I am in awe that my words and songs touch so many people.

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I am in awe that at one of my recent performances, one of my songs caused another person to cry.

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I am in awe that I have learned to accept the many painful parts of my life, and that includes living with dry eyes.

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I am in awe of the beautiful music that flows from me and helps me to heal.