myjourneysinsight

A PEACEFUL PLACE

Posted on March 24, 2014 by Judy

My newest song arrangement is done and I’ve interspersed my post with a lot of my lyric lines. This song definitely moves me from the moment the first chords of the introduction start playing. My blog has really documented the stages involved with the birth of “Take Me Away,” which hatched from an old guitar instrumental named “Waterfalls.”

Click the blue link below to hear a karaoke. I am still working on recording my guitar, vocal and harmony for it:

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This past week, I went on a lovely hike and had a picnic with my good friend, Carol. Being with her lifted my spirits so much. In this picture, she is assembling a fantastic salad for our picnic lunch.

I see my hand shadow there. It looks like I wanted to just scoop this up with my fingers and eat it ASAP!

This salad was utterly amazing. Take me away for a picnic with Carol anytime!

This salad was utterly amazing, especially with Carol’s homemade salad dressing. Take me away for a picnic with Carol anytime!

I am currently illustrating this flavor for a yogurt label. No wonder I’m craving this!

I am currently illustrating this flavor for a yogurt label. No wonder I’m craving chai lattes!

“It is what it is”

I began my hypnotherapy session by saying tearfully, “I feel like a shell of a person!”

It was because the past two weeks had held many challenges for me.

It felt like every day was far too complicated and I burst into tears easily. Recently I had written about how acknowledgement was a very helpful word – but applying it was harder than I thought.

Only the day before, a simple task of returning a modem to an Internet provider turned into a 3-hour ordeal. My eyes were foggy and I had trouble seeing street addresses. It turned out that the first location on my list was no longer in business. But I had another location to try. When I arrived there and went inside, I was told I needed to go to a third location and another after that. After I found out at the sixth location that I needed a label (which I had left at home), I began sobbing in my car. I drove home and decided I was very angry with my 23-year-old son, whom I wished had taken care of this. I had waited a week for him to handle the return; he told me he was too busy with work and school to help. Now I regretted that I hadn’t waited longer even though I was being charged for it. I had ordered that extra modem for him (his game system didn’t work well with our current provider), but it turned out that it didn’t work in our apartment.

I realized that my situation above wasn’t anything to cry about. But clearly it was a buildup from other things going on.

Two weeks ago, my 20-year-old daughter had a minor accident in the restaurant where she worked. It was 11:00 p.m. and Urgent Care was closed. She was shaking and I insisted she come over so I could drive her to the ER. We arrived and found out the wait was five hours. The nurse that did the checking in kindly said off-the-record that it didn’t look like my daughter needed stitches, so we decided to go home. The cut was very close to her eye and she was lucky.

My daughter’s run of close calls continued with a minor car accident last week. It happened on a day when I had plans to go to a special movie screening. Being invited out by a friend was a rarity in my life and I was really looking forward to it. But only two hours before getting ready to leave, I received a panicked call from my daughter.

She had been working at a far away location as a movie extra. It was her first day and she had slept over at my house. She had to leave at 4:30 a.m. that morning and was very tired when the shoot was over. Because she was so exhausted, she drove home in the wrong direction and had to turn around. She lost control of her car on the dirt shoulder and plowed into a fence. Of course, I was relieved my daughter was okay – but her car was not drivable. It was difficult for the tow truck to extricate it from under a fence and tree.

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I cancelled my show plans. The tow truck was bringing her and the damaged car to my house. I took it upon myself to help solve her problem by calling a friend who had a car she could temporarily borrow. In the meantime, I would pay my friend to help repair her car. My daughter had been struggling financially to live on her own, working at a restaurant and barely making ends meet. We were getting along much better since she’d moved out. But not on this day. After she snapped at me, I regretted mentioning that I had cancelled my plans to be there for her. She was furious at me for not appearing more sympathetic to her situation. I was completely frustrated trying to soothe her and myself at the same time.

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I like this photo/illustrations better with the blue tones. This is actually the color of the photo from a long ago hike.

Two days later, we drove to the scene of her accident. My daughter didn’t have any information about how to reach the owner of the fence she had hit, but she had shared her insurance information with someone on the property. Our drive was a 3-hour excursion where I hoped to find the owner and request that the repair not go through our insurance company because if reported, it would cause my insurance to go sky high. As we grew closer to the area, my daughter was agitated and upset. I got out of the car alone and knocked on the door of a large sprawling ranch home. No one answered the door, but as I walked back to my car I heard a voice. A woman got off her horse and came over to me with a smile. She was friendly and told me she’d let me know what the repair cost. I was so relieved and glad I had made that trip.

But as I drove home, my daughter said things that upset me. I felt my throat tightening and unleashed a torrent of angry words that I couldn’t stop. After that, the rest of our drive was in silence. A few hours later, we hugged before she went home and I wished I hadn’t had such an outburst. I was so glad when the day was over!

There was something else that had saddened me the past week. I had called an old friend whom I hadn’t spoken with for a long time. She confided to me that I had written something on my blog a year ago, which had deeply hurt her. I felt awful because my intention was never to hurt such a good friend; I thought that what I had written was kind. But she was right; I had mentioned something hurtful without realizing it. Even though I told her I was sorry, I felt terrible that I could not erase her pain. I hoped she would forgive me for being so thoughtless.

And lastly, the day before my session, I had received two written reports about my 17-year-old son that depressed me. The reports were filled with pages listing all his challenges. The truth was that my son was very happy and lately he was doing much better in school. He was truly the sunshine in my life. I decided to put the reports in a drawer and not read them.

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So when I came to my hypnotherapy session, acknowledging my stress hardly comforted me. I was back to that place of feeling like a failure because I wasn’t grateful enough – things could definitely be worse!

My hypnotherapist, Connie, patiently listened as I recounted all the travails from my past week. Then she gently asked me what stories I was telling myself surrounding my recent challenges. I loved how she was able to have a more detached perspective of my situation.

She was right because with me, there was always a story behind everything. It was the stories that I told myself, which caused me the most pain.

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It all started with when I came in announcing I was a “shell of a person.”

Did I really believe that? I said it because I was teary and felt empty inside. But the on the other hand, over the past week I celebrated how much pleasure my new song gave me. And I had very much enjoyed seeing my friend, Carol.

Yet my new song was definitely about my grief. There was no escaping that fact.

I talked a lot to Connie about the difficulty I had with my daughter. Being there for her was important. But I was confused – was I doing too much for her? I hadn’t felt appreciated, but had my own mother caused me to ever feel that way? The story that came into my mind was that I couldn’t measure up to my own mother.

I also had a car accident when I was 20 years old that left my chin scarred. At that time, my parents took care of everything for me and I didn’t think anything about it.

But now, I was spending a lot of energy focusing on how I bore the financial burden for my daughter alone. It felt unfair. But the last thing I wanted to do was approach my soon-to-be-ex-husband to pitch in (for many reasons I can’t mention). My daughter was already down about her life; taking on the extra job was her own initiative to earn extra money. I wanted to be supportive by fixing her car so she could get to work, but at the same time was I rescuing her from the consequences?

There was an underlying current going on and I wasn’t sure what it was. I was miserable and didn’t want to go to the place of using my eyesight discomfort as the reason either.

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My trip to Yosemite last December was definitely peaceful.

I settled into the comfortable recliner for hypnosis. Tears were oozing out from under my closed eyelids. I was ready to go to a peaceful place, for sure.

Usually going under hypnosis was simply like taking a nap for me. I closed my eyes and drifted. This day was slightly different. I felt a sensation as if I was really floating and tingling. It was such a relief and my tears finally stopped pouring down my cheeks.

In the distance I heard Connie’s voice. She said, “I’m going to say three words for you to listen carefully to.”

She said, ”It isn’t fair.”

I felt myself tighten up inside. This was a trap – another trigger for me.

With my eyes closed, my voice was sharp as I said, “Whoever said life was fair? There is no fairness in life! I never expected fairness. Okay – at times I can honestly admit being envious of people who haven’t experienced the losses I have. But then there are people who have gone through far more tragedies in life, too!”

I wondered why she had used those words – it wasn’t comforting for me at all!

Instead, those words felt critical. Had I not appeared grateful that my child was okay? Or that my two sons had achieved more than I ever imagined with challenges that made life hard for them?

I remembered my parents and how loving they were to me. I tried so hard to be a loving mother to my three children – taking care of their needs, while at the same time missing having someone who cared about my own.

It was hard to face and I was crying again.

Now Connie steered the hypnosis somewhere else and suggested I go to a peaceful place. I did. I was in a forest near a cool waterfall. My mother was holding me. I began to feel calm again.

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I said, “It’s hard to face that my parents are gone forever. Sometimes I’m so overwhelmed and unsure of what I’m doing with my own children because I’m still a child inside!”

Connie said softly, “Every person needs love and understanding.”

I said, “There’s no one on earth who could love me like my mom and dad did. Where would I find love like that now?

The obvious answer was self-love. Compassion and understanding from me to me. This was something I was working toward and excited because something had shifted for me after my last trip. Despite all the recent stressors in my life, I had not gone back to using food for comfort. I had lost a few pounds and felt better. On top of that, I had committed myself once again to stop biting my nails and had succeeded.

Now my new goal was to silence the inner critic that only spun stories causing me misery. An example was when I fought with my daughter because I felt she wasn’t grateful enough for all I had done. Then I felt guilty because she was so angry that I wasn’t more grateful she wasn’t injured. On top of that, was I an enabler for rescuing her?

I had so much “black and white” thinking going on. It was always those extremes that led me to pain. There could definitely be alternative ways to see this.

Before I woke up from hypnosis, Connie gently asked me if there was some other statement that would help me deal with those things that burdened me. The first words that popped out of my mouth were, “It is what it is.”

She repeated back my words to me. “It is what it is.” Even with my eyes closed, I could tell by the tone in her voice that Connie was smiling.

I liked those words a lot. I said them over and over. For some reason, I wasn’t spinning any stories with those words. They really allowed me to find the acknowledgment I was looking for.

The anguish and chatter that cluttered my mind faded. So often I would go back to what I wished I had done differently. I was hard on myself and frustrated for feeling weak and crying easily.

Those words were all about moving on and not being stuck.

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Take Me Away lyrics

A few days later I realized that I wasn’t dwelling on feeling guilty for not being grateful anymore or complaining about unfairness in life. It turned out that the concept of “It’s so unfair” actually was an ongoing theme for me that I wasn’t even aware of.

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I am always amazed at how adept I am at suppressing my own feelings. I just pushed those feelings down that were “wrong” and for decades I never allowed myself to feel.

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So now I’ve decided to allow myself to feel that it certainly isn’t fair when crap happens in my life.

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After that, it is simple for me to switch gears by announcing, “But it is what it is!”

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A picture of my mother from a long time ago

I received this note over 20 years ago. Clicking on it makes it easier to read.

I received this note over 20 years ago. I told my friend that if something happened to my mom, I couldn’t go on without her. My mother died 5 months ago and I was very lucky she lived to be 88. Clicking on it makes it easier to read.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tagged "sandwich generation", acknowledgment, acoustic guitar, adjusting to loss of parents, composing, coping with stress, daughter relationship, grief, GRIEF RELATED, guitar, haunting melody, having hope, healing from grief, healing music, hope, hope of healing, hopeful and optimistic, Hypnotherapy, inspiration, it is what it is, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a mom, loss of a mother, love for a mother, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother dying, mother's death, mother's illness, Mother's love, Music, original songs, parent and child, parenting, positive thinking, singing, songwriting, stress and effects, stressors, suppressing emotion, suppressing feelings, tribute to my mother, tribute to parents | 1 Comment

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Posted on March 16, 2014 by Judy

Acknowledgment (noun) ac·knowl·edg·ment – acceptance of facts, thanks

In order to better deal with PSTD (post traumatic stress disorder), I have begun to acknowledge many things that I previously have shoved back down.

The fact that acknowledgment also means “thanks” is very inspiring. I am very grateful that God blessed me with many wonderful talents. Writing, singing, composing and illustrating have allowed me to cope.

In the last two years, both of my parents have died. I can acknowledge that fact.

In addition, I acknowledge that I am also dealing with the end of my marriage of 31 years. A week ago, I recorded a love song I wrote when I was twenty. I sang with emotion, while at the same time pushing down the heartache that I am 54 and it has been over 30 years since I’ve experienced romantic love.

As I have started to acknowledge more of my feelings, I’ve found insight into that special time when I began writing my blog with joy and abandon.

I always knew that writing helped alleviate my loneliness from missing my mother when she began to decline. But when I opened up my heart and shared intimate feelings on my blog, it was because I desperately needed understanding I found nowhere else in my life.

It was after my friend Susan died that this revelation came to me. With her death, I lost a friend who offered me tremendous understanding and compassion. Susan acknowledged my traumas even though she hadn’t experienced the things I had (such as the loss of a child).

Currently, I am dealing with many different kinds of losses. Whenever a friend has acknowledged my grief and/or challenges, I have been greatly comforted.

Recently, a good friend did just that. Her message is below:

Judy, it really is amazing how you’ve kept going as well as you have. You may find this interesting–it’s a well-known life events stress test. Based on what I know about you, you top the charts!

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http://www.cliving.org/lifestresstestscore.htm

Her link was to a website where numbers were tallied for any life-changing events. I checked a lot of boxes. Here was my list:

Marital separation, divorce, death of close family members (my parents and a child), personal injury or illness (my eyes), change in financial state, death of close friends, change of career, daughter leaving home, change in living conditions, revision of personal habits, change in residence, change in social activities, change in family get-togethers, change in eating habits.

My score was 533. The site only listed above 300.

Here was what was stated about any score higher than 300.

Score Comment

300+ You have a high or very high risk of becoming ill in the near future. This scale shows the kind of life pressure that you are facing. Depending on your coping skills or the lack thereof, this scale can predict the likelihood that you will fall victim to a stress related illness. The illness could be mild – frequent tension headaches, acid indigestion, and loss of sleep to very serious illness like ulcers, cancer, migraines and the like.

My guess is that “and the like” (at the end of the above paragraph) could include dry eyes.

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My friend Marge took this picture while we were walking through a park together. It matched my blouse in color. I noticed a heart-shaped shadow before I saw the sign. It held great meaning for me because I believe self-love is very important when coping with challenges in life.

Originally, I had thought about naming this post “Grief 101 – Part 3.”

But I decided that acknowledgment was far more important for me to emphasize. It applies to how acknowledgment leads to comfort and understanding during any difficult time in life.

The three parts of that word that touch me are:

1. How important it is to allow myself to cry and grieve. I acknowledge what huge changes I’ve gone through (without going to a place of judgment that I’m wallowing in self-pity.)

2. Expressing honestly how when a friend acknowledges my challenges rather than judges my sadness, I am truly comforted.

3. Being thankful for all the goodness in my life, despite my challenges.

For more on this subject related to grief I share two links, which are incredibly moving and educational. Because these women are grieving deeply, they get the point across with far more intensity.

DOYLE’S WIDOW – SOLITUDE

GRIEF: ONE WOMAN’S PERSPECTIVE – ANOTHER VOICE

Grief is appropriate when a person experiences loss.

I strongly believe that healing is possible, but grief is still a monster that must be dealt with.

The isolation from grief is a horror that is truly indescribable. It is a feeling of being completely alone from any other human on this planet with unbearable pain.

It is beautiful to comfort someone by acknowledging his or her challenges, pain and grief. It helps them feel less isolated and cared about.

It is far better than encouraging a friend to “move on,” “get over it” and “be happy.” This minimizes their loss. Instead of bestowing comfort, it causes even more anguish.

When my son died, I knew that most people could not imagine the agony of my grief. I believed that I was coping in an amazing way – working and parenting my living children took every ounce of my energy.

On rare occasions, I felt judged by someone for grieving too much. When that happened I was simply incensed, especially if it came from a family member or friend – it was a huge betrayal that caused me to withdraw from them. All I could think of was how he or she might be more understanding if they had experienced the death of their own child.

I still maintain that I have healed from the death of my son, but now I carry new wounds.

I only want encouragement from friends and am extremely sensitive. I realize that was why I became very upset when a friend sent me a well-intentioned message last month.

My friend expressed worry that I was drawn to grief, and as an example pointed out my recent trips: attending a memorial in Northern California and going to Yosemite to meet a terminally ill blogger. My friend’s message ended with a statement that there was no end to sad stories and that I needed to actively pursue happiness.

This message was a trigger.

Triggers, triggers, triggers!

Triggers are things that cause me enormous pain because all of my suppressed pain from the past explodes with a trigger.

Criticism is always a huge trigger for me because I lived with constant criticism for years in my marriage.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to the message. I certainly appreciated what on the surface appeared to be very caring and concerned. But I felt very misunderstood and criticized.

I wrote a response to express my feelings:

I appreciate that you are concerned about me and your message is caring. But I must explain because you cannot understand what I’ve lived through. The loss of a child is something I’ve healed from, but it did change me forever. I’m never going to be the person I was before that. A wound may heal, but there is still a scar. I’ve also chosen to view my scar as something that represents a profound effect upon me.

Helping others with grief doesn’t make me sad – It is meaningful and very rewarding.

I’ve gone through a lot of loss in the past two years: my marriage, my eyesight, my parents and the life I knew for over 30 years.

I actively chose to pursue happiness by making huge changes in my life!

With all those changes, it is understandable that I have a lot of emotion. These days, I cry with joy easily, as much as with sadness.

I’m certain that I’d feel better if my eyes didn’t hurt all the time. But I continue smiling and doing what I love to do. I love to sing, compose, write and help other people. I also hope to touch people in many ways beyond grief.

For example, I had no idea that the lady who cleans my house shared a CD I gave her with her church. I’ve been invited to sing there because many people feel that my songs are about God and I’ve inspired them! I’m fine with that and plan to perform there soon.

I’ll let other people balance out their life by partying! They have no idea how grief can strike anyone at anytime – and are fortunate to be unscathed. If I can make a difference as I have to someone feeling hopeless, I’ll die with a smile at the end of my life.

Judy

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In this picture, I’m with my childhood friend, Joni

My friend had no clue about how much I enjoyed my recent trip to Yosemite where I met a fellow blogger, Sandra Callahan who is terminally ill. It was certainly not about grief.

That trip was a wonderful time reconnecting with my childhood friend, Joni. Meeting Sandra motivated me to go in the wintertime, which was something I found courageous and quite beautiful. Joni and I did spa treatments and hiked; I played my guitar and composed music on the porch. It was a very relaxing and healing trip, not at all sad.

All the posts I’ve written about the death of my friend, Susan helped me to understand my journey and how far I’ve come from when it began. My trip to her memorial was a wonderful opportunity to see my deceased mother’s two good friends, whom I’ll probably never see again. To me, that was a beautiful way of processing my mother’s death. It meant so much to Susan’s mother and brother that I was there. I made a difference and was uplifted as I sang my heart out.

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This picture reminds me how my mother was a miracle, because after she broke her hip and didn’t have surgery, she lived three years and was able to walk again.

This picture reminds me how my mother was a miracle. After she broke her hip and didn’t have surgery, she lived three more years and was able to walk again.

I am grateful for the friends in my world who offer understanding. Only yesterday, I was struggling with my eye pain while shopping in a supermarket. Everything was foggy around me and I barely could smile.

I came home, put away the groceries and retreated into a darkened room. It was then that I noticed there was a missed call and a message on my cell phone from my friend, Joni.

I listened to it and cried a lot of tears for a woman with dry eyes.

Click the blue link to play audio:

AUDIO OF JONI’S MESSAGE ON MARCH 13, 2014

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Transcription:

Hey Jude, It’s Joni! No need to call me back – I’m in traffic. But I just want to say thank you so much. Your music just brightens up my day and makes me feel at home, comfortable and safe. God bless you – your songwriting is amazing. I feel so blessed to be a part of it and that you do that. It’s just so amazing. Have a wonderful day and let me know how you’re doing.

Joni is my friend who encouraged me to play my guitar again at the age of 50. Music changed the course of my life.

Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged acknowledging grief, acknowledgment, acknowledgment of grief, acoustic guitar, adjusting to divorce, arranging music, changes in life, changing your life, childhood friendship, comforting a friend, communication, compassion, coping with divorce, discouragement, dry eye syndrome, dry eyes, escape through music, eye discomfort, eye issues, eye problems, eyesight issues, facing divorce after a long marriage, feeling numb, Friendship, gray divorce, grief, GRIEF RELATED, guitar, having hope, healing music, hiding feelings, impending divorce, inspiration, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a mom, loss of a mother, loss of parents, lovesong, lyric development, mother daughter relationship, mother dying, mother's death, mother's illness, Music, music as therapy, music therapy, musical inspiration, optimism, original songs, Post Traumatic Stress, Post traumatic stress and hypnotherapy, Post traumatic stress disorder, PSTD, releasing pain, self improvement, separation, singing, songwriting, staying hopeful, stressors, suppressing emotion, suppressing feelings, suppressing tears, understanding | 3 Comments

I’M CRYING WHILE I’M DREAMING

Posted on March 15, 2014 by Judy

This picture was taken during my recent trip to Northern California.

My post title is a lyric line from my latest song composition that is “in progress.” It stood out for me as a perfect description of what I’ve been going through.

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Originally, the music for my song was inspired by a classical guitar instrumental named “Waterfalls.” I composed it when I was 19 years old. I’m not sure what my new song with lyrics will be named yet, but so far “Take Me Away” stands out as most likely, though I’d prefer a title that hasn’t been used so many times before.

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

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These are the lyrics for the first verse of my newest song that is slowly being born.

This is the first verse of my newest song that is slowly being born.

I begin my post by sharing some photos of the beautiful coastal scenery I saw in Northern California two weeks ago.

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I stayed with a family friend, Liz after attending a memorial for my friend Susan Rasky. I haven’t travelled much, so it was very special when Liz drove me through some beautiful places the following day. Liz and her husband lived in Sebastopol, Northern California and both she and her husband were geologists.

After having lunch with Liz’s mother at a senior center, Liz took me for a long drive back to her house. It turned into a three-hour looping trip through redwood forests and coastline and the scenery was quite spectacular.

Every so often we stopped so I could take a picture. I appreciated Liz’s knowledge about the area’s history, geography and climate. But most of all, I was fascinated and simply loved the fact that I was with a geologist.

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That’s because I collected rocks as a child and have always loved nature. After my father died, it was touching for me to see my old rock collections when my oldest son cleaned out the coop where I moved into. I wasn’t surprised that my dad had saved them because he never threw anything away. I guess I’m still attracted to cool rocks because I even brought one home with me from my recent trip to Tucson.

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Within short distances, a rolling meadow would suddenly become a rainforest. The road followed a river that I occasionally caught a glimpse of. It was called the Russian River and its water level was very low, due to drought.

While on our excursion, I was inspired by one incredible moment that happened when we pulled off shortly before hitting the coastline.

We had followed the Russian River through a redwood forest and were at an estuary where it met the ocean. The view was quite breathtaking; this was definitely a place to stop. Liz parked and I got out to use the bathroom. As I walked back to the car, instead of marveling at the incredible ocean vista in front of me, I turned around toward the hills and said to Liz, “Wow, those are interesting rock formations over there on the other side of the highway.”

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Liz smiled. Suddenly, I received a fantastic geology lesson. As I listened to her, I grinned because if I hadn’t noticed those rocks, I might have missed out on this.

Well, it turned out those rocks were more than special.

I had just noticed rocks that were found nowhere else in the world!

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In this town of Jenner where we had parked, those outcroppings represented the Earth’s mantle. For rock to be thrust up to the Earth’s surface from so deep near the core – it was truly an incredible force of nature.

And this was the spot where geologists came from all over the world to see.

Right near our car, there was an interesting boulder. I pointed it out to Liz. For over five minutes she examined it and described all the minerals to me in that rock.

I took her picture, which she gave me permission to share.

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Prior to our excursion, I appreciated this fortune I received in a cookie during the luncheon I attended with Liz and her mother.

I continue to utilize hypnotherapy to harness my mind and help myself. As I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I realize how adept I am at pushing down painful memories.

Recently, I had a pivotal hypnotherapy session where something really clicked for me. I came home with a new word and a new approach for my challenges. That word was ACKNOWLEDGE.

I carry a lot of old habits and coping mechanisms – grief has unfortunately been a familiar part of my life. I have no doubt that my dry eye syndrome has worsened because of suppressed grief. I’ve felt pressured to uphold an image of a “poster child for grief.”

Also, I dislike feeling as if I’m a “complainer” because of my eye problems. I don’t want pity from anyone and certainly avoid self-pity as much as possible.

Unfortunately, thinking that way has blocked my ability to acknowledge a lot of painful parts of my life.

Like a victim of amnesia, my former life is remote because I’ve forced myself to separate from any pain I start experiencing. Therefore, when I’ve thought about my parents, it’s as if they’re strangers even though their deaths were fairly recent. My mother died in my arms only a few months ago – but my heart has been numb and blocked.

As I acknowledge the truth about how much I miss them, my grief is surfacing like a tidal wave. Crying over losing them is understandable because they inhabited such a large portion of my life.

I found it very disturbing to realize that what I couldn’t acknowledge during the day surfaced while I was sleeping.

In many dreams my mother appeared to me. We were holding hands and laughing, and then suddenly she died. Each time it happened in a different way.

One of my worst dreams was when I saw her fall through some ice we were walking on. I tried to grab her as she reached for my hand in the icy dark water. I silently screamed as she descended; then I saw Jason looking up at me from the dark depths below her.

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For certain, losing my parents has not been comparable to the loss of my young son.

I shoveled dirt onto my mother’s coffin during her funeral, I was calm and marveled how accepting I was of her death at that moment.

When my son died, I wanted to jump into the very hole where I was shoveling the dirt. I wished I were dead and inside the coffin with him.

It has been hard to remember my parents this happy because they suffered so much at the end of their lives.

Writing lyrics is something that happens for me when I’m not trying so hard. As I listened to the haunting chords in a completely weird guitar key of Eb minor – I wanted to envision going somewhere peaceful in nature. That still might happen for the second verse, which is not done yet. I wrote the first verse a month ago and couldn’t decide where to go with it.

I did know that I wanted to be taken away. I wasn’t sure by whom or where, either. A few days ago, I wrote new chords that I hoped would inspire me to finally write a chorus.

But it was really tough when some words spilled out of me as I searched to find those lyrics.

It was the line of, “I’m crying while I’m dreaming” that hit me hard. It was natural and understandable.

My recent dreams were the basis for my song. I wrote a few more lines and decided my song was being born. It was so healing and amazing for me.

Perhaps, God was taking me away from my pain after all.

Tagged dry eyes, escape through music, eye discomfort, eye issues, eye problems, eyesight adjustment, eyesight issues, facing divorce after a long marriage, feeling numb, Friendship, friendship rifts, gray divorce, grief, GRIEF RELATED, guitar, having hope, healing music, hiding feelings, impending divorce, inspiration, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a mom, loss of a mother, loss of parents, love for a mother, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother dying, mother's death, mother's illness, Mother's love, Music, music as therapy, music therapy, musical inspiration, Northern California, not feeling, optimism, Ordinary Life, original songs, releasing pain, self improvement, separation, singing, songwriting, staying hopeful, stressors, suppressing emotion, suppressing feelings, suppressing tears, writing | 12 Comments

YOU COMFORT ME

Posted on March 9, 2014 by Judy

In this picture, I’m in the back and my parents are on the right. Sophia (Liz’s mom) is in the middle and Evelyn (Susan’s mom) is on the left. My parents are gone now. Stan is alive (Sophia’s partner) but they are separated by distance.

A few weeks ago, I traveled to Northern California in order to attend a memorial for my good friend, Susan Rasky. I have already written a lot about Susan and will miss her terribly. Although the memorial was the reason for my trip, it was also an opportunity for me to see two of my mother’s very close friends, Sophia and Evelyn. And since my mother died only a few months ago, I was her “representative.”

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I have a lot of pictures to share here, old ones and new ones. I love how pictures can tell a story just like words can, and that’s probably because I’ve been an illustrator for decades.

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My post title is a line of lyrics from my song “My Shining Star.” It relates to my story because seeing them comforted me, and at the same time I was able to bestow comfort.

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Three dear friends: my mother, Shirley with Evelyn and Sophia

Sophia and Evelyn were 92 and 96 respectively. I shared a common bond with these two older women. It was something that only those who have experienced the loss of a child are well aware of – all three of us were bereaved mothers.

Sophia’s daughter, Liz, picked me up from the airport and together we attended the memorial. After it was over, we headed over to where she lived in Sebastopol. The drive was over an hour and I took in the beautiful scenery while she drove. I tried to forget about the pain in my eyes.

I enjoyed filtering and playing around with my photos. I definitely can use this photo as reference for a future agricultural illustration. In the past, I have done many like this one.

I felt comfortable with Liz. Her devotion to her mother’s care was familiar and she was very open about her life. Liz loved cooking. She was an artist creating unique recipes in her kitchen and eating at her home was a gourmet treat. While she made dinner that first night, I played my guitar in her kitchen as she did her thing. Her husband was also friendly and easy to talk to.

Their son and daughter were in college, so I had a choice of two rooms to choose from to spend my nights. I chose their son’s room because it had a firmer bed. The view from my window was beautiful. I especially loved the solitude and spaciousness that I didn’t have back home in my cramped apartment. As I collapsed onto the bed and drifted off to sleep, once again I was so glad I had made this trip.

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At the memorial I felt so awful for Susan’s 96-year-old mother, Evelyn. She was in a stupor and I didn’t say much. On the third and last day of my trip, I would be spending more time with her and her son.

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These three couples (my parents on the right) shared many wonderful memories together and I have boxes of pictures from their trips and holiday gatherings.

These three couples (my parents on the right) shared many wonderful memories together. I have boxes of pictures from their trips and holiday gatherings.

The day after the memorial, I was going to a senior luncheon where I would spend time with Liz and her mother, Sophia. Before our visit, Liz tried to prepare me. It was very important not to upset her mother.

It turned out that Sophia had challenging behaviors that dementia had made much worse. Liz told me she had hoped her mother would mellow out with age, but it hadn’t happened. Growing up, she hated to be told she was like her mother. It was embarrassing for her.

Early on, I told her she didn’t resemble her mother – I realized that was a good thing now.

The day before, I had also shared with Liz that my father had great difficulty being around Sophia because she was an incessant talker. Growing up, I saw Sophia more as a dynamic and fun-loving woman.

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Liz said, “My mother has a short fuse. Be careful not to mention her age – she gets angry to hear anything related to that.” Then she added, “She probably won’t remember you because I mentioned that you were coming and your name didn’t ring a bell for her.

I listened carefully and reassured Liz – the last thing I wanted to do would be to add to her stress.

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Liz took me to this wonderful bakery right down the street from her house.

Sophia lived in a board and care facility not far away from Liz. Liz shared with me how difficult it had been to bring her mother to live there. She practically had to kidnap her from horrific living conditions where her mother was living in Los Angeles. Sophia was furious, but Liz had definitely saved her mother’s life. The level of trash where her mother lived was unbelievable. Liz said that simply picking up sheets and pillowcases caused them to disintegrate into clouds of dust.

It was clear that Liz carried tremendous stress due to her mother’s difficult behaviors and frequent angry outbursts.

Our outing was to attend a luncheon at a nearby senior event. Liz meticulously planned every detail and oversaw the transport. Her mother would go in a van while sitting in her wheelchair; Liz and I would follow in her car. Seeing her mother onto the van was important because it would alleviate her mother’s confusion about where she was going.

I followed Liz into a large, brightly lit home. It was definitely a cheerful facility, without the odor I usually associated with my parents’ former nursing home.

Sophia had her back to me and was sitting near a window. As I came closer, she was very recognizable to me. She had the same face I remembered only with white hair.

She squinted and studied my face as I gently sat down next to her. Then she said, “Do I know you?”

I told her; I was Shirley’s daughter.

For a moment she looked puzzled, but then she broke into a huge smile. Her eyes sparkled with recognition.

She announced enthusiastically, “You’re Shirley’s daughter, but you look just like your mother! Wow! I loved your mother so much and seeing you is like seeing her again!”

I grinned. Sophia was obviously delighted to see me. I could feel my mother hugging me at that moment.

The transport arrived and it was time to leave for our luncheon. As Liz pushed her mother’s wheelchair, Sophia continued to chatter about my mother. “Your mother was all about love – she was the most loving person,” Sophia said. “And you are just like her!”

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Liz and Sophia

At the luncheon, Sophia introduced me and continued to talk about how much she loved my mother. Her words caressed me over and over. For two hours we sat together and Liz was clearly delighted that her mother was having a good day. I understood about dementia; there were good days and difficult ones.

For certain, this lovely lunch with Sophia and Liz warmed my heart.

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My mother might have died, but for a short while she came back to life again in my memories and heart.

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The luncheon was held at a Synagogue and carried an Asian theme. I did like the fortune in my cookie, for sure.

My audience is waiting for me to release a CD of music. It will happen someday when I’m ready!

But what was really impressive was the entertainment.

An elderly woman performed several pieces on a Chinese harp. Her name was Mary Parker. How did this woman become an expert at this unique instrument? Mary’s story touched me instantly. It turned out that she was living in China and was a professional cellist. But one day she fell and damaged her hand. Doctors tried to fix her injury, but her career as a cellist was over. Mary searched for another instrument to play and discovered she could somehow play the Chinese Harp, also called a “Gu-Zheng.” She fell in love with it and began a new career.

This was truly an inspirational story about how this woman turned a disaster into a beautiful new direction for her life. Mary studied with masters for many years, and eventually earned several prestigious awards throughout China and became a master teacher herself.

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The music from this lovely instrument transported me somewhere else.

On the last day of my trip, Liz and I went with Sophia to a nice restaurant where Susan’s brother would be meeting us and bringing his mother Evelyn.

Susan’s brother, Louis, (I didn’t take his picture) had visited Liz and Sophia before. It had been probably a year since they had visited last. As they came into the restaurant, I was absolutely amazed that Evelyn was still walking with little assistance at the age of 96!

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This picture was taken probably 40 years ago.

Evelyn is 96 and Sophia is 92. They have been friends for so many years that I cannot count them!

I didn’t hesitate to talk about Susan during our luncheon. Evelyn shared many memories about her daughter, and I loved hearing about Susan’s passion for journalism.

I was curious if Susan had ever been in a relationship and decided to ask her mother about it. Evelyn said plainly, “Susan was married to her career.”

Little was spoken about Susan’s death during our time together. The grief that was apparent was when Evelyn talked about Susan’s poodle, Lucy. It was very sad to hear.

Liz had hoped that Louis would bring Lucy; we would have eaten outside. But Louis explained that Lucy was not cooperative and he was already dealing with his elderly mother for this outing. He said, “Susan is gone and I can’t do the things she would have expected. Lucy will have to get used to it!”

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This lunch was all about friendship.

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Seeing Evelyn and Sophia reconnect without speaking much was very touching. Despite dementia, their affection and love was something to behold.

I missed my mother so much, but in a way I felt like I was standing in for her. Inside, I knew it was unlikely that I would see these two women again.

When Evelyn and Sophia said goodbye to each other, I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Both of them had experienced the loss of a child. Despite their circumstances, love shined brightly as they comforted each other.

I was thankful that these women had special children who made the effort to bring them together. Hopefully, they will see each other again.

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