myjourneysinsight

ONE DAY I’LL BE GONE

Posted on February 8, 2015 by Judy

I take this opportunity to share pictures of my three children whom I adore.

A later recording of my song:

I love the song arrangement, which is finished. The very first chords that inspired this song were played by George on his keyboard without any other instrumentation.

SEE ME IN EVERY SMILE – piano in progress

Link to more about this song: IN EVERY SMILE

This is a fairly recent photo of all three of my children together.

A month ago, I was chatting with a friend and she said to me earnestly, “Judy, you must put all of your affairs in order. It’s so important! I just worked with a family where the father died and nothing was in place. It was such a nightmare for everyone.”

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I knew my friend was right. For months, there was a note on my desk with the scribbled words of: set up a living trust. I certainly didn’t want my children to be burdened if anything happened to me unexpectedly. But I still hadn’t followed through – it was so much easier to put it off.

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Now my friend had put the fire under me. I made an appointment to create a living trust with someone recommended by my brother.

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Before my meeting I had a flash of insight and decided to ask my good friend, Janis if she could make medical decisions for me. It would be a lot easier than expecting my children to know what to do. Janis said she would be honored to help me, which made me very teary. A week later, we met for lunch to discuss my wishes.

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The initial meeting to begin this process was quite overwhelming. My head was spinning from all the questions the lawyer asked me. I had so many decisions to make, but in general I was glad to be doing something that I knew was very important.

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The subconscious is so powerful and takes up far more of the mind than the conscious part.

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That week, I began writing a new song. I heard beautiful chords that were dissonant and very haunting. And the lyrics seemed to follow exactly what my mind was dwelling on.

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My first line went: “One day I’ll be gone . . .”

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It was thrilling for me to watch my new song unfold. The first thing I did was share my newly composed chords with my arranger, George so he could play them on his piano. I wasn’t sure if my chords were for a verse or chorus; George experimented with a few chord progressions to help me link sections together.

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I brought home his piano recording and it was so beautiful! This new song touched me deeply and I knew immediately what I wanted to convey. I began writing lyrics but a song title didn’t grab me.

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My first idea was “I’m Not Really Gone.”

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The following week when I met with George, I excitedly told him that his piano chords were great. I handed him a paper with my preliminary lyrics on it. He scanned my words quickly and then he handed the paper back to me.

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“Kind of dark,” he muttered.

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“Really? I mention love and laughter – so how is that dark?” I replied.

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He said, “What’s the first line again?”

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I laughed and answered, “One day I’ll be gone.”

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I had to admit that it was kind of gloomy with a line like that.

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But I loved what another friend of mine said. It was: “I think it’s great how you can write about something that many people think about, but are afraid to say.”

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These are lyrics that I originally wrote for my first verse, but decided not to use.

These are lyrics for the first verse that I ended up replacing.

Even though I wasn’t set on my lyrics, the theme of my song felt perfect for my life. I sang my song as if I were speaking to each one of my children.

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My emphasis was upon how much I loved them and that remembering my love would uplift them.

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The last thing I wanted was for my children to be tormented by grief when I pass on someday.

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Telling them to smile and laugh was a reminder that I hoped they would continue to live their life with joy.

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I believe greatly in healing from grief.

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My dialog with a woman named Sammi continues to shed more light upon this. Her words are in blue.

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Sammi, I am always trying to be more compassionate. Sometimes I feel guilty because I “preach” hope for survival so much. Even offering understanding isn’t always comforting sometimes because grief is so unique to every person. The best thing to offer someone grieving is to just listen and care.

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Judy, your years of surviving “the worst loss” give you a unique view of those of us who are in the first stages of this journey. To give hope to a dying soul will never be a bad thing, so you are guilty of nothing.

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Thank you, Sammi. I really can only speak for my own life. Originally, I thought it was a miracle that I survived grief. Now it is about finding joy again and THAT is a miracle! I think mindset does make a difference. Yes, the ache remains – but that doesn’t mean we have to suffer until our last breath.

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Sometimes I think we survive because there is no choice – unless we kill ourselves (which happens by suicide or total disregard for safety). I have seen that happen. I remember feeling hopeless for a long time. It didn’t even register when someone would tell me I’d feel better someday – I found it annoying.

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I will admit to having thoughts of suicide in the first days. I couldn’t stand the thought of living without my son. I would cry constantly and say, “I can’t do this” over and over. My saving grace was my husband. I never would have made it this far without him.

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When you lose a child you develop layers, layers that cover and protect you. At first it feels dishonest to friends and family hide beneath these layers, but as time goes on you realize that you are protecting yourself.

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The first layer covers your core, the screaming torn soul and protects your exposed damaged heart.

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The second layer is the face you show to those close to you, your closest friends and your family. It calms them to think you are going to be OK. It allows some semblance of life to continue for you that they are comfortable with so they can focus on their lives without worrying about you.

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The third layer is the layer that you present to the world. That layer lets you laugh and interact with others at work and those who know nothing about you. It allows you to do certain things and numbs you to most of what is said to you.

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I don’t want to hear from people about how this is what my purpose is or how wonderfully I write about what is going on. I am still the same person I always was, but hate where I am right now.

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That is because I live with a constant ache since my son died.

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I think you have eloquently explained what “survival” is. Living with layers is very numbing and kind of like being a dead person emotionally. That’s why I probably called my survival of grief “Zombieland.” I am sorry for the ache in your core, Sammi.

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Keep unwrapping it because I think that is the key to living again someday. The adage of “time heals” isn’t necessarily true even though it is a process that happens over time. It came for me when the thought of, “I can’t believe he’s dead” became “He’s dead and I can’t live without him.”

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Later on it became, “He’s dead and somehow I’m still alive without him.” The biggest shift was, “He’s dead and I am able to live again with joy.” That was my miracle and still is.

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I don’t think time heals this kind of pain. I am still at the “I can’t believe he’s dead” point. I will be taking a shower and suddenly it hits me…. again…I will never see him again, I will never hear his voice or feels his arms hugging me…ever. The finality of it all takes my breath away at times. I want those layers…. I NEED those layers. Joy is something I will never have again. I don’t have that many years left in my life to reach that place.

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Layers are survival and were for me, too. And like you – I was certain I’d never find joy again. No one can know what is ahead. Perhaps it did take me years. I know many people who have never gotten there and others that did much sooner than I. It doesn’t mean that the ache is gone. It only means that your heart lifts again. I guarantee you, Sammi, one day you will feel that.

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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.

I’VE ALWAYS CARED-PART 2

Posted on February 5, 2015 by Judy

This is my current image for my song “I’ve Always Cared.” The bed with my guitar is sailing across a faraway ocean to somewhere unknown.

My journey began with sharing about my life, and I especially enjoy sharing recent music. Developing and “growing” a song in my garden can take me months (sometimes years). So with eagerness, below is a preliminary recording of “I’ve Always Cared #2” where my vocal is unfinished. Just yesterday I recorded acoustic guitar and George added electric guitar into the arrangement. Soon, I plan to add some harmony.

Below are pieces of older recordings that are part of my journey. I have improved greatly as a singer from when I started back in 2010. And long ago as a young girl, I sang in higher keys with abandon. I appreciate how free-spirited I was with my voice, but in general I don’t find those recordings easy to listen to. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I do love how they add to my story.

Click the blue link below to hear my song in progress.

I’ve Always Cared Home Recording 4-2-17

I’ve Always Cared #2 Arrangement 2015

Link to hear a snippet of the “medieval” first arrangement of this song from 2010:

I’ve Always Cared #1 Arrangement 2012

Link to the first part of this story:

#141 I’VE ALWAYS CARED

I’VE ALWAYS CARED

It’s unbelievable

Has it really been that long?

For years we were strangers

But I knew all along

I’ve always cared and I always will

Never felt that way until

I passed through my life without you

I’ve always felt and I’ll always feel

Now I know it is for real

And this time, and this time

I want to be with you, with you

We’re back together

I wonder what lies ahead

The past is behind us

There’s so much left unsaid

CHORUS

I dreamed of you and the life we once shared

You weren’t gone, ’cause I still cared

Now I want to be with you, with you

I loved you still, though we were apart

No one else could know, the way you touched my heart

CHORUS

Now I want to be with you, with you . . . with you

–

I composed my song “I’ve Always Cared” when I was 19 years old. I was able to easily remember it because I had a cassette recording from 1980.

I never considered “I’ve Always Cared” to be one of my best songs, but I did like the catchy chorus. This song was one of a few faster songs of mine, which involved strumming instead of my usual fingerpicking. It was similar to “Meant to Me” and “Saying Goodbye;” those were two of my other songs I wrote around that time.

George arranged “I’ve Always Cared” back in 2010 and the arrangement had an interesting medieval sound. Unfortunately, I couldn’t along with it very well. Some of that might have had to do with how difficult it was for me to relate to this song back then.

Now that five years have gone by, I decided to let George arrange “I’ve Always Cared” again and together we’d improve upon it. George envisioned it as a slower piano ballad. He composed new chords for a bridge and I revised the lyrics and wrote new ones for the bridge.

There certainly is a story surrounding what prompted me to write this song, which I will share farther along in this post. But today in 2015, my song tells me a completely different story than how I wrote it originally and is nothing that I ever expected it to be.

I crafted my revised lyrics to express feelings for my new take on this song. And the new lyrics can still work for the older story, too.

Who am I singing to? Well, here’s a hint – I’m not singing to a person!

The reunion after many years was with my music!

Perhaps that could be a sad revelation since I’ve gotten divorced. But it was honestly the easiest way for me to relate to my song. And many times, I see music as another metaphor for God in my life.

I like to add artwork of mine to every story. And because I love puns, I’ll add some of those, too. I don’t want to be blue or berry my sadness.

I prefer not to dwell upon thoughts that lead to sadness. Yes, I could be envious of people with loving partners. I could be very discouraged about my failed marriage. I felt alone for a long time and might have remained in that place if I hadn’t had the courage to change my life.

I smile and know that whatever the future holds; I will always have beautiful music to bring me joy.

And another irony was that even though it appeared that I didn’t care about my music for 30 years, it certainly cared about me.

When I was discouraged about life, it returned to rescue my soul.

It was strange seeing this old high school ID card again. Who is that girl?

It has been fun to revisit my older songs. With remakes, they come to life again.

My last song arrangement was for an old love song named “It Might Have Been. ” That song expressed how “love was something new” and shortly after I wrote it, I became engaged to be married.

But before “It Might Have Been” I wrote several songs alluding to my confusion about enduring love.

Even though I dated a lot, I was quite naïve and innocent. My dating was about looking for “the one” and I certainly didn’t imagine there were other options besides getting married.

I wonder what I was thinking in this picture.

When I was 19, I was torn between two men.

For a few months I managed to see both of them. But when they both wanted to see me for New Year’s Eve, I was stuck and realized I needed to make a choice.

I had an on and off again relationship with both of them. And I was the one who initiated the break ups because I usually felt pressured to “go steady” and I liked to feel free to date whomever seemed interesting to me.

The “other guy” was one of my first boyfriends from high school. Sam and I dated on and off for over four years, starting from the time I was 15 1/2. My parents reluctantly allowed me to date him, even though originally I was brought up with the statement of, “No dating until you’re 16!” But Sam was such a smart and nice guy, my parents caved in.

I really felt so bad breaking up with him that he inspired the first song I ever wrote aptly named, “You’re Not the One.”

I met my future husband in college at a time when I wasn’t seeing Sam. We were together awhile, but then we separated – I felt pressured by him also. After that breakup, I had second thoughts and wrote my song “Saying Goodbye.”

We reunited eight months later, and I wrote a song called “Meant to Me,” which definitely expressed how I had a feeling that something might go wrong. That sure was prophetic.

Not long after I reunited with my future husband, suddenly Sam came back into my life. In the past, I had alternated seeing these two men, but now I was involved with both of them at the same time. It was terribly guilt provoking.

And my confusion extends to “I’ve Always Cared” because I cannot remember which man I wrote it for!

In this picture, I’m graduating from Middle School.

Hypnotherapy has really given me a lot of insight into the “black and white” thinking I grew up with. When I was young, it never occurred to me that there were other possibilities other than those extremes.

I felt I had to choose between those two men rather than consider that perhaps I was too young to get married. So I picked my future husband and he became the one.

At the young age of 21 I married and my black and white thinking led me into a very gray existence.

I was not happily married from the beginning. No one around me knew, lest of all me. I assumed that I had unrealistic expectations for intimacy and felt flawed. I was determined to make the best of it because divorce seemed terrifying. I ended up filling my empty spaces by relentlessly pursuing my career as an illustrator. My parents and children met my emotional needs.

I guess I could consider myself a teas. (Hint – those are tea leaves above)

I’ll never understand how it happened, but after thirty years of musical silence – I began to play my guitar again.

I was fifty years old and at a very low point. But then I discovered that music was like magic. My heart began to explode with feelings and it changed my life.

My emotional floodgates opened up and all of the feelings I suppressed for decades began to pour out. I started this blog and excitedly shared how I started taking voice lessons. I found my arranger, George through an ad on Craigslist. One by one, I had George arrange all of the songs I wrote as a young girl.

After two years I was ready to write new songs as an adult woman. I had waited to release them until I had recorded all of my older songs. The experience of writing those new songs turned my life upside down.

My lyrics guided me to end my marriage.

One of the most interesting stories that happened from my blogging was when Sam discovered the story I had written about him with my song story for “You’re Not the One.”

I was shocked when he left a sweet comment on my blog where there was a picture of us from our high school prom.

After thirty years we reconnected. He never even knew I had written a song about our breakup.

Links to those stories:

#136 THE VERY FIRST SONG I EVER WROTE

#137 YOU’RE NOT THE ONE – PART 1

It is not uncommon to hear stories of high school sweethearts falling in love and marrying later in life.

This is not one of those stories.

Sam is happily married with four children. I met his lovely wife at the time we began corresponding. When I decided to divorce my husband, Sam tried very hard to discourage me.

I have seen Sam on only a few occasions – he came to the hospital when my mother broke her hip. When I buried my father and later on my mother, he was at both funerals.

This story gives me a big smile because I never expected I’d know him later in my life. He has truly been such a wonderful friend.

Sam is a doctor and always ready to answer any questions I have and offer medical advice. He does this from the kindness of his heart and has helped several of my friends, too.

So there is additional irony about my song “I’ve Always Cared.” Both of us still care about each other even though he wasn’t “the one” I married!

I’ve been through a lot lately, because the last two weeks the flu bug roared through my household. I can honestly say that Sam and his caring made a huge difference.

Below is my email exchange with Sam. (My words are in brown and his words are in blue)

Hi Sam, I was at Urgent Care a few days ago with my daughter – she had a high fever and came over shaking with chills. They checked her for strep throat, but it was negative.

She’s slowly improving, but now my youngest son is sick. I’m healthy and plan to stay that way! Hope you are, too. I imagine you’re exposed to everything. Have a great day!

If your daughter has influenza, she should have been placed on Tamiflu…Sam

Now I’m really concerned about my son – this afternoon his fever was almost 105, it sure spiked quickly. He was pouring sweat all evening, and I’m hoping the night goes okay.

Your son might have influenza…in spite of receiving the flu shot, which has poor effectiveness this year. Tamiflu might be of some benefit, but I don’t know if your HMO is giving it…hope that he feels better!…Sam

I don’t know if they are giving it. But suddenly I’m not feeling 100%. I’ve noticed my throat is scratchy and my eyes are very annoying. The last time I had a low fever I had trouble handling it. I am praying I’ll be fine tomorrow.

If you have been exposed to someone with the flu, you should be on Tamiflu. If you take your son to his doctor, make sure that you ask for it, if they think he has the flu. Feel better!…Sam

This illustration was for a vitamin label. Echinacea is cold remedy – but I didn’t take it this time.

Wow, Sam. I emailed my doctor and he agreed with you. He said it also could prevent illness if you’ve been exposed to someone with documented influenza. I didn’t realize this existed as a preventative. Don’t want to take up your time, but any side effects to be considered?

Allergic reactions, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, abdominal pain and such…But in reality I haven’t had much trouble with it in my patients. Did you get your flu shot this year?…Sam

I did get my shot two months ago.

I just got home from taking my son to the doctor. He prescribed Tamiflu for my son and I gave him the first dose when we left. But on the way home he threw up in my car. I’ll give him the second dose tonight and hope it goes better. I’ll keep you posted on things.

His doctor did a swab of his nasal passage for an influenza test; the result is within 24 hours. His reasoning was that if my son tests positive for the flu, then he’d prescribe Tamiflu for me. Thanks so much for caring.

No…You don’t have the flu, but Tamiflu can help you avoid getting it altogether…as you said, it IS important to get the medication before showing symptoms like high fever…see if you can get him to prescribe it for you!

I would have prescribed Tamiflu for you as well, and then considered stopping it if his nasal culture was negative…but their accuracy is only around 70% or so anyway…hope he feels better!…Sam

Hi Sam, I’m a bit fuzzy and had a slight fever this afternoon. I received a message that my son did indeed test positive for influenza. The doctor said I could start taking one of my son’s Tamiflu capsules until I can fill my prescription.

I’m going to take my first dose now! Sorry to have bothered you so much with all of this – but thank you again for your advice. 🙂

How are you feeling?….Sam

I’m feeling better psychologically since I started taking the Tamiflu. I have never seen my son or daughter this sick in awhile. If I ended up with influenza, who would take care of me? Thanks again, Sam!

Judy

Ps. By the way, am I contagious?

I think that you are contagious…you may have the flu…not everyone that has the flu will have a full-blown case. I think that five days should be fine…if you are feeling better once you are done with the Tamiflu, you should be way less contagious…hope that all of you feel better!!!…Sam

For the last two nights, I was sweating a lot and my heart was pounding. But I didn’t get the flu! Now I have what feels like a common cold – I’m sneezing a lot. I can deal with it, except my eyes are terrible. I’ll be done with Tamiflu in two more days and am very grateful. I sure feel glad to have you in my corner!

Judy

Tagged acoustic guitar, break up, break up song, breaking up, caring, childhood friendship, composing, coping with divorce, creativity, dating memories, divorce after a long marriage, emptiness in marriage, Friendship, gray divorce, guitar, healing music, high school memories, Humor, humor daily life, I've Always Cared, inspiration, Judy Unger, loss, Love for music, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Medieval sounding music, memories and divorce, memories from high school, Music, optimism, original songs, performing, reunion, reuniting, singing, song about reuniting, songwriting, writing | 8 Comments

IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN – PART 2

Posted on January 26, 2015 by Judy

Since my divorce, I’ve cropped my ex-husband from the picture.

Click the blue link below to hear my song:

It Might Have Been Arrangement 2015–

IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

–

It might have been the very first time we kissed

lightly sprayed by an ocean mist,

my mind was in a blur

I remember just how shy you were

–

No, it might have been the time I left you

Loneliness filled my dreams; you were my closest friend

and longing in my heart wouldn’t end

–

I’d never felt that way before; love was something new

I often wonder when it was, I often wonder when it was

I fell in love with you

It might have been the time I called to you in pain

As I shook, you held me close; I was not afraid

and through those darkest nights you stayed

–

All those times – so long ago

are in my memory

I still remember how you loved me

–

I’d never felt that way before; love was something new

I often wonder when it was, I often wonder when it was

I fell in love with you

–

The lyrics above were an addition to my song three decades later.

–

Memories can be so many things for me. Sweet memories evoke sensations and can take me back to childhood. Traumatic memories hijack my mind to places I never want to revisit.

Sometimes I picture my memories as rings of growth on an old tree stump. Traumatic memories are the layers that appear as if they were created by a forest fire, clearly visible. I seldom have accessed memories below those burnt layers because it was too painful to get close.

The first song lyrics that I wrote as an adult woman were for my song named “Memory of Love.” Loving memories were clearly the antidote for me. I wrote that song because I mourned the loss of my mother; she was slipping into dementia and I was devastated to lose her. It was interesting that the lyrics also applied to my husband. At that time, I was very lonely in my marriage.

I married very young and I divorced last year after 31 years of marriage. I have tried hard not to feel guilty about hurting my husband since he never expected I would leave. In order to cope, I often find myself becoming numb and detached – as if my past belonged to someone else. Suppression of my honest feelings was also a familiar way of dealing with disappointment during my marriage.

The most beautiful part of exploring an older song is how it helps me to access memories prior to traumatic events that otherwise might have remained buried. That was why recording my vocal for “It Might Have Been” was extremely touching.

Initially, I wondered how I’d find a vibe for a song about falling in love that I wrote as a young 19-year-old girl. It has been at least 35 years since I’ve experienced romantic feelings.

The image of that beautiful tree stump is in front of me. I see how I can now appreciate all of the beautiful rings of growth that represent my life.

And most of all, I appreciate the pure and honest core of my heart in the center of it all.

Link to my first story about this song:

#158 IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN-PART 1

This is a page from my diary when I was 19. My musings about self-love back then are fascinating for me. The same love for being creative in my youth continues to fuel me today.

At my last hypnotherapy session I said to my therapist, Connie, “I wrote a story about “It Might Have Been. But I’m not sure if I am going to share it. It’s very personal with my admission at the end.”

I read my story aloud and lingered upon the last line. My words were that I never experienced true intimacy in my marriage. It meant that I felt like I had missed out by not having what many other people have told me was integral to their life. And I felt damaged and vulnerable because of that.

Connie was an expert at guiding me to find my own answers. As a hypnotherapist, she wasn’t even allowed to tell me what to do. Her goal was always to empower me to help myself.

Certainly, writing my story helped me whether or not I decided to share it. What both of us discussed were the feelings that came with my closing sentences. I told her that I knew I could reframe my thinking and would work on that.

Then she pushed a piece of paper toward me. On it was written:

In to me, I see

I read the words aloud. It was such a clever definition for the word intimacy! I said, “This must be about how when someone loves you, they want to come in. It’s about feeling safe enough to let them in to see what’s inside of you.”

I continued by saying, “That definition works for me. I never felt like I could open up to my husband. I worried that honesty would upset him. We never would fight about anything; I looked the other way when he upset me and ignored my intuition that our relationship wasn’t healthy. I married so young and stuck with marriage even though my husband didn’t understand me. With my awakening I just couldn’t live that way any longer.”

Then I added, “But I’m really not looking to find intimacy, so I’m confused. I’m missing what I didn’t have, but definitely have no desire to find it now at this age!”

As we talked about my confusion, it made sense that since my past experiences in a relationship were so unpleasant, my subconscious would associate any future relationship with those same feelings.

It was time for hypnosis. I laid back and closed my eyes and floated off. I wanted to replace any thoughts that led to sadness.

I decided it felt better for me to focus on all the unique and special experiences I’ve had in my life, rather than dwelling upon things I felt I had missing out on. I said aloud to Connie, “Okay, I have experienced something amazing with my music – something I never imagined after 30 years of musical silence. I’ve connected with many people in beautiful ways and the experience of writing a song is magnificent; I feel and see things in my heart that I might never have discovered otherwise. I am so blessed to have music in my life.”

I awoke from hypnosis smiling. And it must not have been a coincidence that the music to a gorgeous new song composition began playing in my mind that week. I was completely uplifted.

I do miss the times when I could open my eyes wide like in the picture above.

This is the actual song sheet from 1980. In 2010, I changed many of the chords and wrote the melody. I didn’t have a recording to help me remember my song. I did remember the melody for the first line, though.

I have discovered that I am very vulnerable to both adoration and criticism.

It seemed like lately my musical focus was upon love songs instead of songs about loss. My last song arrangement was “Just A Tune,” which had beautiful words of finding love again. But the only way I could relate to it at this time in my life was with self-love.

My song that followed was “It Might Have Been” and it was about falling in love. I could not relate to it in the present and it forced me to remember how I felt when I was 19 years old. This led me to find insight surrounding my feelings about love that led me get married.

Every verse of my song (except the last one) held reasons for why I had fallen in love with my former husband. The last verse was written in 2010 and it was a challenge to come up with. I made it a summary for the other verses.

This photo is from a weekend retreat and I have no connection now with the people sitting there with me.

This photo is from a weekend retreat. My guitar and I were joined at the hip back then.

I dated a lot as a teenager. I remember that my husband won me over because he especially loved my music.

Music was the ticket into my heart and soul. I sang to him whenever we were together. I wrote him love songs. He brought me flowers every single week and it all felt magical. So at the young age of 20, I decided he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

I learned about love from my parents. I was very much adored by them, so it made sense that I searched for love in the same way. I was lured with adoration and my heart grew cold later on because of unrelenting criticism.

After I was married, I no longer felt adored. I chalked that up to “real life” and assumed my immaturity and sheltered life gave me unrealistic expectations for love and intimacy.

My husband was difficult to please and very unhappy with his career. I thought if we did better financially, things would change for us. I devoted all of my energy into becoming a successful illustrator in order to make money.

Gradually, I withdrew from him and placed the blame upon myself for any unhappiness.

When I was 24, I saw a therapist because I was deeply depressed. She told me that my depression was related to my parents; I needed to confront them and set some boundaries. Two therapists directed a family meeting my parents, two older brothers and me. My husband did not attend.

After confronting my parents I felt more empowered, but it was a very draining and painful episode in my life. Moving forward things were different and I felt even more alone. It hadn’t brought me any closer to my husband.

All of this ended up pushing me into another direction. I impulsively decided that I was ready to have children. Subconsciously, I imagined it would fill my emptiness and bring love into my life.

Having children taught me about how selfless love actually is.

Unfortunately, Jason was born with a severe congenital heart defect. After that, my marriage was truly relegated to the back burner. Jason’s care swallowed me up and then grief slaughtered my existence with his death.

I went on to have three subsequent children after Jason; it was a life raft for me. I have been a very devoted mother and became a fierce advocate for all three of my living children when they had struggles in school due to challenges they were born with.

I suffered a terrible loss with my first-born son, but my three living children are a great blessing to me. Being intimately involved in their lives continues to give me my greatest joy in life.

Romantic love was beautiful and even though it wasn’t something that lasted – I am grateful I had that experience.

My first verse for “It Might Have Been” is about a first kiss. Somehow, I overcame my squirming embarrassment while singing those lyrics. When I’m singing, memories transport me to a time when love was thrilling and my emotions were so innocent and pure.

In this picture, I am playing guitar on the patio where I now live.

The intimacy of my music is very much a part of why I do it.

I overlooked the greatest clue about my unhappiness when I stopped playing my guitar almost immediately after I was married. I thought it was because I was too “grown up” to do music anymore. I missed the friends who shared it with me.

I also missed my husband and the way he was before we were married.

I occasionally tried to play, but had no emotional connection to music anymore. And sometimes when I was singing alone, I would quickly stop whenever I heard my husband’s footsteps approaching.

That was my clue that I never realized until now. I didn’t feel like sharing my heart with him through singing anymore.

For years and years, I swallowed my sadness and closed off my heart to avoid the deep disappointment I felt about love and marriage. My mother had insisted I marry before my formal wedding because of her belief that pre-marital sex was a sin. I complied in order to please her – I wanted her to be happy, instead of disappointed in me. I wanted her to love me.

It’s no wonder why love has been so confusing for me.

My song expresses a lot of wonderment about falling in love. I have thought about whether to rename it. But once again, the older name of “It Might Have Been” won out because it has a lot of meaning for me.

With the title of “It Might Have Been” I could imagine all the possible scenarios of how my life might have turned out quite different if I hadn’t married as young as I did.

But then, I realize how I wouldn’t have necessarily wanted that. I adore my children. I found my clarity and it was: I wouldn’t change anything!

Everything I have experienced in my life has led me to where I am now.

I still believe there are many surprises in store for me ahead to dream about. But I am not mourning my past or living for tomorrow – I am living my dreams every single day of my life now.

I love this image that I often attach to this song because it represents my bliss because of music. Things might have been very different if I hadn’t changed my life in order to follow my dream.

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.

Tagged acoustic guitar, beautiful music, composing, coping with divorce, creativity, death of a child, gray divorce, guitar, healing music, hypnosis, Hypnotherapy, I often wonder when it was, I wonder when I fell in love, inspiration, Intimacy and marriage, Intimate music, It might have been, Judy Unger, Love was something new, lovesong, lovesongs, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, marraige, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, music and inspiration, optimism, original songs, performing, positive outlook, reframing missing out, singing, songs about love, songwriting, staying positive, writing | 5 Comments

WE WERE STRANGERS

Posted on January 19, 2015 by Judy

I’m not sure how old I was when I made the drawing and poem with lovely cursive below. All those sweet rhymes were my preview to becoming a future songwriter.

I am ready to set sail for some new adventures in my life!

The man behind the desk in front of me carefully studied the documents I had just handed him. He looked up and said, “This is your first passport?”

I noticed that he seemed surprised. I grinned and said, “Yes, it is! I’m 55 and it’s time for me to travel to places I’ve never gone before. Is it that unusual for someone my age to get a passport?”

He told me it was and asked me what country I was planning to visit. I replied, “Oh, somewhere in Europe – but I’m not sure yet.”

As I walked to my car, I was delighted that I had taken a step toward doing something new and exciting in my life.

This image is for my recent song: “I’ve Always Cared.” The bed with my guitar is sailing across a faraway ocean to an unknown destination.

The title for this post is from another song I wrote long ago. I have been working with my arranger, George on “I’ve Always Cared.” I’ve revised some of the lyrics added in 2010 and wrote new ones for a bridge that George helped to create. The song is bouncy and a lot of fun to sing.

A portion of my “arrangement in progress” can be heard below:

Caring seems to be a reoccurring theme of mine. It was in another recent song, “Just A Tune.”

I care about many things in my life. Most important to me are my three children. I care about my friends and even strangers who are hurting. I care about creating music that touches me.

Unfortunately, sometimes I care too much about what other people think of me. It was my habit in the past to expend a lot of energy trying to make everyone around me happy. My life is quite different since my divorce after a long marriage. I am trying to please myself more and worry about pleasing others less.

I hoped to travel with my newfound freedom, but because of my dry eye pain– it hasn’t felt comfortable or safe for me. But my eyes have improved to where I am willing to consider it.

There are a few special bloggers in faraway places that I would love to visit; I feel very close to them because of the intimate writing we’ve shared for at least two years now. Taking a trip to meet any of them feels very meaningful for me.

So my story begins with the reason I actually felt inclined to get my very first passport. It was because of an invitation from a woman named Sarah (not her actual name).

Sarah and I had been writing to each other for several months. I wrote a story about her when we first connected on the Internet. She found my art blog and wanted to purchase an image to use for her website. I gave her a discounted price and she was thrilled.

After that, I shared my love for music with her and we began corresponding. On one of our exchanges, she sent me a lovely picture of a butterfly on her window and invited me to visit her in Europe.

Link to that story: #451 I HOLD ON

Sarah seemed very warm and kind. Even though she and I didn’t speak the same language, she amazed me with her ability to write fairly articulate email messages.

Her messages were enthusiastic and filled with encouragement about my music. Over and over she reiterated that my voice really touched her when I simply sang with my guitar. It motivated me to start practicing so I could perform again.

After eight months of reclusiveness (because of eye pain), I began to play at open mics. It wasn’t easy, but I was pleased that I had pushed myself. I eagerly told my new friend how she had inspired me and sent her links to view my performances.

This image is from my first performance back playing after 8 months. My eyes bother me a lot when I perform.

This image is from my first performance back playing after 8 months in August of 2014. My eyes still bother me a lot when I perform.

When I mentioned that I might actually take her up on her offer to host me, she insisted that a week wasn’t going to be long enough – she hoped I could stay at least two weeks. I began to seriously consider planning a trip the following summer and it was all very exciting.

Sarah told me she was would try to arrange for me to perform in her town when I visited; she said she was certain that my music and stories would be appreciated. I hadn’t finalized plans for my visit other than obtaining a passport, which was a good thing.

Only a few days after we had talked more about my visit, she sent me a startling message. A better word than “startling” would be “horrible.”

I was left scratching my head and wondering how such sweet interactions could change in an instant.

Sarah’s message was a list of points that proved to her how self-centered I was. She raked me over the coals and accused me of bombarding her with messages. She felt I was insensitive to her recent illness and all I cared about was music.

I had actually bought a nice Christmas gift I planned to send her and was glad I was able to return it.

She ended her diatribe with a truly vicious paragraph. It seemed that my songs about my mother infuriated her. I never imaged my music could inspire such anger!

I wrote back to her with a simple message:

I have every right as a human to express my feelings about my dead son, parents or whatever. I share my experiences and many other people have told me that they’ve been touched by it. I’m relieved now to know that I’m not going to visit someone who is unstable and easily angered. My intentions toward you were always loving and your words surprise me because they are mean-spirited and hurtful.

I tried not to allow her words to upset me. She was someone I’d never met, but I had opened my heart to her. I was so glad that this had happened before I actually went to visit her in a foreign country. It was terrifying to admit how awful my visit could have been with someone capable of writing such a cruel message.

When I shared this experience with my children, they all said pretty much the same thing. “Mom, the Internet is filled with people who say hateful things. It shouldn’t come as such a shock to you.”

I didn’t want to be affected by any of this, but I was. I especially felt irritated with myself because I had been so blindsided. I thought it might be helpful to write to my grief forum friends for support.

My message was:

Recently, there’ve been many posts about how upsetting it is when other people want us to “get over our grief.” People who are uncomfortable with it are one thing, but then there are others who can be incredibly hostile.

 It has only been about a year since my mother died. I was very upset last week when I received an angry message from someone who had listened to my songs.

I have never felt that my loss was greater than anyone else’s by writing songs about loss and love. I will continue until my last breath to remember my dead son and my dead parents. I appreciate the support from this group. Her message was:

“There are millions PEOPLE ON EARTH WHO LOST THEIR PARENTS! I lost both my mother and my father, who I loved more than anything on this earth! Most of us are so f#@%&g sorry to lose our parents! Do not you think? But you talk about the loss of your mother, as if the rest of the people on Earth do not have any parents. YOU ARE / WERE SO SPOILED, and find it difficult to accept nature’s time, and that we ALL MUST DIE ONE DAY. People do not care to hear of others family tragedies in the edition that you represent in your song to your late mother! Why? Because: Your dead mother is NOT worth more than my dead mother or others dead mothers, and because of it, your song is WORTHLESS.”

Judy, what a horrible expression you were sent! Your Mother is worth more to you, nothing to her, such a disgusting comment. I am so sorry to hear you have been subjected to that tirade. Try not to think about it. No one understands what we go through until they go through it for themselves. There is surely no need to degrade anyone else’s expressions of grief.

OMG, what a bitter, bitter person! Keep writing songs, Judy!

Yay, Judy! I support you in self-expression. Based on the last three years after the death of my grown daughter, I am clear that for me at least, the most profound need of grief is its own expression. And so, I have become a writer and am on the last leg of my master’s degree in writing and about to complete a novel. Best to you and keep it up!

Judy, the only thing that may be of any value out of that angry post you received is that the angry sender had “a place” to direct some of her anger. I’m glad that you are able to see her “stuff” for what it is worth. Clearly, you did not deserve that. You keep creating what is beautiful and comforting. I will pray that hostile woman begins to find some comfort and peace.

Wow, Judy. The bitterness and anger in this message that was sent to you speaks of more than just your song. This woman is free to not listen to your song or simply not bother with you at all but instead chose to spit out such anger and for what purpose? If it were possible, I would block this woman from ever sending messages to you again. She obviously doesn’t understand the reason you do what you do and how it helps other people with loss. Once again – wow!

That is the most terrible thing I have heard someone say to another grieving person. Judy, you have helped a lot of people, especially here in the group. You keep writing and singing your songs. Don’t let this person get to you.

The messages of support from my grief forum members did lift me up. For weeks, I avoided writing this story because I wanted to simply put it behind me. But then I decided there was insight that I gained from this experience.

One of my favorite mottos that always uplifts me is:

TAKE THE BEST AND LEAVE THE REST!

I love that line because it works for almost every experience in life. I simply discard unpleasant things and grasp what is useful.

My experience with this stranger across the world definitely taught me many things. Perhaps I was too trusting and open. And if I was overly enthusiastic about my music and a bit self-centered – I accept that perhaps I am that way at this time in my life.

I actually gained some very big benefits from my interaction with Sarah. She encouraged me to embrace performing again. She inspired me to consider traveling to Europe.

I’ve never gone there and one day I plan to travel there with my hairdresser, Shahin. We’ve been friends for over a decade now. Shahin is from Afghanistan and has family in many European countries. I feel very safe with her and I’m certain our trip will hold wonderful experiences for me.

Originally, when I told Shahin that I wanted to visit Sarah, she warned me to “be careful” about visiting an Internet friend. A few days ago, I sheepishly told her that I wasn’t as careful as I thought I was.

This image is from a beautiful lunch made for me on my birthday by my hairdresser and good friend, Shahin. She is from Afghanistan and the food she prepared for me that day was delicious!

This image is from a beautiful lunch made for me on my birthday by my hairdresser and good friend, Shahin.
The Afghan food she prepared for me that day was delicious!

One thing I learned early on as an artist (and as a human) is that everyone has differing opinions. As a songwriter, if I seriously listen to opinions from other people about my music, I get confused and anxious. This happens even when my friends have positive intentions.

When I shared my story about Sarah with a good friend (who is very supportive of me), she said, “You know, I shared your songs with someone else who told me the same thing; that you were overly praising your mother.”

Those sentences definitely bothered me and made it hard for me to let go of my hurt feelings. I’ve written many stories on this blog describing interactions with my mother that were less than perfect. I felt misunderstood.

This is a picture of my good friend, Janis with her mother. Her mother died a week after my mother died in October of 2013.

A few days later, I was able to put all of this behind me when I had lunch with my good friend, Janis.

Our mothers had died a week apart in October of 2013. We had met for lunch many times since then and shared our grief. Now over a year later, it was not at the forefront of our minds like before.

Janis and I chatted happily over Japanese food, catching up on life over the past few months. Then she said, “Oh, by the way – we had a small family gathering last week for the unveiling of my mother’s headstone.”

Suddenly, she reminded me how I had played my song “You Were There” at the funeral for her mother; I had completely forgotten about it. I was honored to have been asked. It was only a week after my mother’s funeral in the same location.

Janis asked her daughter to read the lyrics to my song “You Were There” aloud at the gravesite where the family gathered. But her daughter said she couldn’t because the words choked her up too much. Janis wasn’t able to read them either. In the end, she told me her son read the lyrics to my song aloud.

I was touched and smiled. My good friend had related my song to her own situation.

I thanked her for sharing that and then told her about my upsetting “Internet experience.” Now I was able to laugh it off. Janis even added to my good feelings by telling me her daughter had made her a special pillow as a Mother’s Day gift last year.

She said, “The pillow has a picture of my mother on it and the lyrics from your song!”