myjourneysinsight

LETTING GO

Posted on November 10, 2013 by Judy

Letting go is the antithesis of holding on. In my songs, I’ve emphasized both with these lyric lines:

I hold on to the love that heals me (Somewhere I Can’t See)

I’ve held on to your memory (Every Season)

How I long to hold on (Never Gone Away)

Hang on; love is never gone (Hang On)

We both know it’s hard to let go (Set You Free)

When you left; I let you go (More Than You Know)

I let go of fear (Clear)

One of my greatest challenges has been letting go. I’ve replaced whatever I’ve let go of with love. It has taken me a long time to understand this. I grieved for eighteen years before I let go of my sadness.

Something else I often need to let go of is perfectionism. I realize that nothing can be perfect, but unfortunately I tend to have very high standards. This has only led to disappointment for me.

Letting go of disappointment is high on my list, as well.

Being gentle with myself is an unending task. I have great compassion and love for other people and wish I were a little easier on myself.

And because I believe strongly in the ability to control thoughts, I often take a lot of responsibility for how I feel. When I am down, I am determined to find ways to feel better. (Without blaming myself for feeling lousy!)

–

This picture is from an old home movie. I love the way I’m kissing my mother.

I am a peacemaker.

It caused great anguish to my parents that there was a rift between my brothers. It began a few weeks before my father died and my father was heartsick about it.

I promised both my father and my mother that I would find a way to help my two older brothers reconcile. And last week, I kept my promise!

But I had to let go of perfectionism. It was less than perfect, but at least it was a start. I share this story (without personal details) because I hope it might help others.

–

My brothers are grown men. Simply put, one brother wanted an apology from the other. This related to both of their wives. The other brother felt he had done nothing wrong and this was not the first time that an apology was expected from him. It’s important to also know that the brother demanding an apology had done this with many other people in his life with disastrous results. He was estranged from many of his lifelong friends and even his own child.

Until my mother’s funeral last month, it had been a year and a half since my brothers had last seen each other at my father’s funeral. I had hoped that before my mother died they could reconcile, but it didn’t happen. At my mother’s funeral it was so awkward and sad.

I was close to both of them and it seemed so unnecessary. They loved each other dearly and had been very close all their lives.

–

A week after my mother’s death, the brother who was expected to apologize was tired of feeling hurt and disgusted by the situation. He wrote a letter expressing himself to his brother. His letter would definitely have ended their relationship permanently.

I listened to his letter and told him that it was wonderful that he wrote to release his anger and express himself. But I suggested he not send it.

I remembered that my mother always told me to be very careful with the written word. It was permanent and could not be taken back.

–

This was also about letting go of fear. I told my brother that there was nothing to lose by finding the courage to verbalize his feelings instead of writing them in a letter. I would arrange for us all to meet so he could express his feelings and then decide whether there was any relationship left to salvage.

But just as I was planning a meeting, which could also be construed as an “ambush,” my brother who demanded the apology asked me to invite his brother to lunch!

I was shocked and wondered what had happened. Now I was especially thankful that my other brother hadn’t sent his letter!

–

When the day came for our “reunion lunch,” I was very prepared. I wrote an essay about apologies vs. forgiveness to read aloud. What was fascinating for me was that I discovered something profound as I was researching that subject on the Internet.

When searching up “forced apology,” there was almost nothing written at all related to adults.

Almost everything related to parenting. It was extremely common to force a child to say you’re sorry. And that was all about teaching a child to placate an adult with an insincere statement.

It turned out that this lunch held little emotion or drama. A comedy of errors set things in motion. The brother who initiated our meeting thought our lunch would be the following week. I hadn’t solidly confirmed it with him.

Amazingly, he still ate at the same restaurant and happened to be there with his son!

I arrived first. Once we all realized what had happened, my other brother walked into the restaurant. I beamed with joy when both brothers hugged. My brother who was surprised that we were there said, “Okay, I want to catch up on things, and we are not going to talk about anything related to the rift. We are moving forward!”

There was uncomfortable silence.

I tried to say a word or two to help with moving forward, but was silenced by my brother’s forceful tone. My brother who had desperately wanted to express his hurt could not speak.

I managed to ask my brother who finally allowed for us to meet, one question. Was it a secret from his wife that we were all together? I was relieved when he said it wasn’t.

After that, I had to let it go.

–

There were two empty chairs at the end of our table. I said tearfully, “Mom and dad are sitting right here with us! They are crying tears of joy that we are all together!”

Even though not a word was spoken about the lack of communication for over a year, this lunch was all about letting go and forgiveness. My brother who asked that I invite his brother was actually showing forgiveness by his willingness to meet instead of holding onto his grudge. My brother, who had wanted to send an angry letter, came and kept silent. He was also showing his forgiveness of the situation.

None of this was easy for either of them.

And I desperately wanted to forgive, too. I was angry about how much unnecessary grief this had caused our parents. Stuffing feelings was something I hated more than ever, and once again I was confronted with the fact that I could not express my true feelings.

So it wasn’t a “perfect reunion.”

I allowed myself to let go of the disappointment. I replaced it with holding on to the knowledge that I was an excellent peacemaker; this was something to be proud of.

And all of this happened because of patience, love and encouragement. That was a gift we were all given by my parents.

Now that my parents are gone, my brothers are very important to me!

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2013. 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 adult sibling disagreements, adult sibling estrangement, apologies, brothers, brothers separated, disappointment, family feud, forgiveness, humor daily life, inspiration, loss, lyric development, Ordinary Life, peace, peacemaker, reuniting brothers | 3 Comments

DEMANDING AN APOLOGY VS. FORGIVENESS

Posted on November 10, 2013 by Judy

What is an alternative to forcing someone to apologize? I believe that would be forgiveness.

Forgiveness is a choice to stop punishing the other person. It allows for a real relationship instead of a power struggle. It is a gift that elevates and enriches our life.

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A gift that is demanded is not truly a gift.

Therefore, instead of demanding something – bestowing forgiveness is freeing.

Some synonyms for forgiveness are: mercy, pardoning, compassion and understanding.

To forgive is loving and life affirming. Sometimes forgiveness is viewed as being weak. But to forgive someone is actually elevating and liberating – it takes strength and courage.

But for many people this can be quite difficult. What stands in the way of forgiveness? The best word I can think of is righteousness.

Holding onto righteousness leads to being imprisoned with superiority and self-importance. It is about power and insisting that the other person tell a lie and bow down to you. It is arrogant and isolating.

The need to “be right” and controlling, essentially leads to being alone.

How does one find forgiveness when they believe they’ve done nothing wrong? Forgive the righteous one because this leads to inner peace.

Forgiveness means that you have reached a point where you will forgive, whether or not it is asked for. Forgiveness is not condoning or agreeing that what happened was okay – but it is about letting go.

How interesting it is that the word “give” can be found within the word “forgiveness.”

Inner peace is far more valuable than turmoil.

When we forgive someone, ultimately it is a gift to ourselves!

Tagged demanding an apology, forcing an apology, forgiveness, forgiving someone, inner peace, inspiration, Judy Unger, letting go, letting go of anger, mending a relationship, righteousness, say you're sorry!, to forgive, wanting to forgive | 6 Comments

WHEN FALL WOULD COME, FOR YEARS I WAS NUMB

Posted on November 5, 2013 by Judy

I see great beauty in this photo of leaves. There are many subtle and wonderful colors. The interplay of cool blues woven into the warm colors is intriguing. To me, these leaves also look like butterflies.

This post title is a line of lyrics from my song “Every Season.” Below is a link to recordings, lyrics and performances for this song: EVERY SEASON

–

The first week after my mother died, I told my daughter that I would love to go with her on a hike. She was appreciative and excited about us spending time together this way.

Although seasonal change is mild where we live (in Los Angeles, California), I felt autumn all around me. The coolness in the air was life affirming and crisp leaves carpeted the trail. The nearby stream bed was dry, but the soft glow of light surrounding the trees and rocks was reminiscent of a fairytale painting. I took a lot of pictures.

I knew when I was prancing downhill for miles that going back would be no picnic. I struggled hiking uphill all the way back. I tried not to be too hard on myself; I knew I was overweight and not in good shape. It took a long time but I was very patient. Every five minutes, I stopped to catch my breath and put my head down so I wouldn’t pass out.

As I trudged uphill, I could see that it was just like the rest of my life. I was putting one foot in front of the other with determination. I moved forward and paced myself so I wouldn’t collapse. I knew I’d make it even if it took me a long time.

–

Last week, a tennis friend was adamant in expressing her opinion about some important decisions I had to make.

She said, “Look Judy, you know you have eye problems. How will you do artwork? You’re 54 already and you’re not going to be Barbra Streisand. How will you support yourself in the future? Don’t give in!”

Her words had to do with the fact that my soon to be ex-husband wanted me to give up my share of his retirement account in return for haunting me if I became financially successful.

I smiled – she was right that I wasn’t Streisand. I certainly wasn’t trying to be anyone but myself.

What I often found amazing was my confidence about my journey and where I was going. To me, the fact that I was older was a big plus. There were so many baby boomers that could relate to me.

Although I hadn’t wanted things to be adversarial, I planned to let my lawyer guide me. My husband was definitely relying on his lawyer. Even though it was quite expensive, I was grateful to know that her advice would be in my best interest.

Unfortunately, I began to bite my nails again. My challenge was to remain calm and peaceful despite the stress that weighed heavily upon me. It occurred to me that there was a good reason for my anxiety and it gave me great insight.

Change is hard for most humans. Recently, I’ve thought about the fact that my “life change” was fairly huge. I remember graduation was a big moment in my life. However, attending school for four years couldn’t compare to my current life change. Both my parents were dead and I would soon be officially divorced.

For 31 years I was a married woman. For over fifty years I was a child with parents whom I was very close to.

This same tennis friend also asked me, “How does it feel to be an adult orphan?”

–

Her honest words didn’t bother me at all. I actually felt lucky that I had been able to really say goodbye to both my parents. They had lived long and beautiful lives. I’m certain it would have been quite different if I lost a parent suddenly when I was younger.

I decided that even though on the surface I appeared peaceful, I was also quite numb. The worst part was the discomfort I suffered from due to my eye problems; it made everything harder for me to deal with.

–

My eyesight issues resulted from posterior vitreous detachment that had occurred in both my eyes a few months after I had cataract surgery. I was having great difficulty adjusting to it, let alone accepting it.

Unfortunately the numbness that protected me from pain did not allow for much pleasure. While I was under hypnosis a few weeks ago, I found an image to describe what it felt like.

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The mask in the forest

––

I picked a mask. As I usually do while under hypnosis, I described it in detail to my hypnotherapist, Connie.

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I was wearing a dirty diving mask and it was foggy and uncomfortable. I could see where I was going, but my eyes were heavy and hurting all the time. I preferred to close them.

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I said to Connie softly, “There are a few rare occasions when I’m distracted and can actually forget that the mask is bothering me; I can take it off. It’s happened when I’m driving and sometimes when I’m concentrating at my computer.”

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Connie’s voice was vibrant with enthusiasm when she said, “Well that’s good information that you are able to take off your mask!”

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I pondered what she said. Did I really have that ability? I sure wanted to. I wished I could see clearly without suffering all the time.

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I replied tearfully, “I’m going to try harder to figure out how I can do that more!”

–

I awoke from hypnosis with resolve and determination. I squinted in the sunlight and tried to stay positive as the fogginess clouded my vision again and my mood.

–

In this picture, I am haunted with memories of Halloween from long ago. I think I’m supposed to be a mouse or a cat. Currently, I have another mouse loose in my apartment, so that’s ironic.

Despite the fogginess of vision that I found discouraging, there was no end to beauty and inspiration in my life. I had many touching experiences that I looked forward to writing about.

Unfortunately, I could not concentrate well enough to write. My oldest son’s bed was right behind me as I typed on my computer. There was a lot of noise and activity when his girlfriend was visiting him or when he played video games online.

This room where I worked and my son slept was about the same size as my closet and bathroom of my former house!

Moving didn’t seem a viable option for me. My coop was convenient and affordable, but a little small now that all three of my children were living with me. There were only two bedrooms, so before I moved in I created a third bedroom by dividing the living room with a wall. But after six months my oldest son wanted to live with me. He slept in the other half of the living room where I had my office.

I made a decision. I would move my computer and office equipment into my bedroom. That way, I could close the door and concentrate! It was on my list of things to do the following week. I planned to have my son and a good friend help me.

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After my mother’s funeral I was moving at a snail’s pace. It took a lot of energy just to keep food in my refrigerator for those three large children who lived with me most of the time. Unfortunately, none of them had time or inclination to go to the supermarket for me.

Although I didn’t want to find the time either, shopping was an important diversion. It forced me out of my apartment and into the outside world. Retreating was more comfortable, but not really that good for me.–

This picture was from last week when I performed.

Clearly, I am joyful when singing.

A few days later, I went to the weekly open mic night. I needed the practice! I was very vulnerable and emotional. That translated either into a weak performance or a touching one. I decided to consider myself touching. I decided to sign up and pay for three longer performances.

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I was amazed at how suddenly there was a lot going on in my life. I had to be sure that I had all of my songs memorized for those performances. What would I wear? I probably needed to go shopping for something new.

But shopping was something I avoided. I always thought of my mother whenever I shopped for clothes. All the years of my life she shared that with me. Our running joke was that she loved shopping and I hated it. Being with her made it tolerable for me.

A flashback from the last time I shopped with my mother stabbed my heart. I could easily picture the dressing room from that day – the very last time. At least she could still converse with me, before dementia stole her words.

She was suffering with back pain and still she attempted to try on clothes. It was so difficult for her. I struggled to lift her blouse off; hardly any top could fit over her misshapen back. The memory caused tears to form in my eyes.

I finally learned to shop alone. That was until my own daughter started asking me to go with her!

–

I even have memories of shopping with my mother for my wedding dress in 1981.

I have memories of shopping with my mother for my wedding dress in 1981.

I created a flier and after receiving advice from friend, I began to gather a few songs for a promotional CD. I planned to distribute it freely because I didn’t want to sell music that wasn’t a final mix yet.

–

This whole venture required a great deal of courage for me.

One of my biggest challenges would be to keep my eyes open. It was always so important to make eye contact with my audience. That was usually difficult for me, but even more so with the sensation of wearing a mask.

But it was clear to me that this was an important part of my journey.

–

It was time for me to move forward despite my numbness.

It was time to see if I could take off the mask . . .

A few weeks ago when my mother was dying, I wondered if I would be able to keep smiling. Somehow I have . . .

Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, autumn hike, change of seasons, composing, coping with divorce, creativity, dementia, gray divorce, grief, guitar, humor daily life, Hypnotherapy, inspiration, loss, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, original songs, Paul Kulak, performing, separation, singing, songwriting, writing | 1 Comment

MY MOTHER, MY SONG

Posted on October 23, 2013 by Judy

My mother was a stunning young woman. I found this old picture just last week in a box.

EULOGY FOR MY MOTHER, SHIRLEY GOODMAN

Click the blue link to play audio of my eulogy:

Judy’s eulogy for her mom – October 17, 2013

–

Some reflections on my life without mom:

Mom was so special. I could never start my day without a call to mom. How I missed those daily telephone calls to her. She seemed to get happy if I was happy even when she felt under the weather, and if I was troubled, she of all people knew I was troubled without my saying a word. I just talked to her and listened to her wise advice, and somehow I wasn’t troubled as much anymore.

All my friends knew that on Mondays I was unavailable. That was the day I spent with my mom. I must admit the doctor visits with her were no fun, but then we had lunch and she enjoyed it so and I forgot the doctor part. We talked and she repeated many things over and over again. When I said goodbye and started for home I felt so great. That contented satisfied feeling after a visit with mom can never be again.

(Those words were written by my mother for her mother, a year after her mother died. But I could have written those words. Monday was the same day that I used to always go shopping with my mom)

—

fter my father's death, I went through boxes of items that he saved. There were four typewritten pages that my mother wrote for her mother a year after she had died

After my father’s death, I went through boxes of items that he saved. There were four typewritten pages that my mother wrote for her mother a year after she had died. Clicking on this makes it larger.

I am a toddler in this picture. Here’s what I was thinking: “I’m sad, mommy!”

From the day that I was born, both my mother and my father made the world a safe and beautiful place. I was completely bathed and protected by their love.

My bond with my mother was so deep, that for most of my life I lived with terror over losing her. I could not imagine how I could live without her and I was sure I would not survive her loss. The love that my mother had for me could only be described as something fierce. She was a mother bear. I never doubted that she would have died to save my life.

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It was apparent early in my life that I had a lot of creative abilities. Both my parents encouraged and nurtured my talents. Dad was the breadwinner and we lived modestly. But somehow there was always money for me to have art and music lessons.

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I love this funny picture of my parents that I know my dad instigated. They were probably going to a Halloween party.

The furthest vacation I ever went on with my parents was the Grand Canyon when I was 10. In this picture, my two older brothers are with me. Norm is in the center and Howard on the right.

My mother clapped with joy about every aspect of my life. If I cried, she cried with me. Her greatest joy was to know every detail about my day. And I knew she was pouring the same kind of encouragement into my brothers, Norman and Howard.

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I was envious of my mother’s deep religious faith. She followed Judaic rituals with fervor. Her passion for doing the right thing was intense and unwavering. Everything she did was with certainty and love for God.

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I didn’t feel the same way she did and this was challenging for me. I was so close with her and didn’t want to ever disappoint her. She was my best friend.

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When I was first married, it was difficult for me to separate myself from her. I was still a little girl inside, filled with fear. I never wanted to disappoint my mother, but I needed to live my own life; we were different people and that I carried my own beliefs. I wasn’t going to be as observant as she was.

–

This picture is very special. I am lighting Hanukah candles and singing the blessing. My mom is behind me and Howard is on the left side. I still follow some rituals and Hanukah candle lighting is one of them.

It was so hard for me to confront her, but she accepted our differences. After that, I loved her even more.

–

I had my own children, and my mother loved each one of them deeply. She helped me through each one of my children’s births and shared in every aspect of their lives as long as she was able to. All of her grandchildren gave her deep pleasure and she loved to plan for holidays and their birthdays far in advance.

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Mom with Jason 2

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It was my first-born child that showed me the depth of her love. Although my son, Jason was deathly sick from a heart defect, she helped me to keep him going. She taught me ways to feed him. She knew amazing ways to get him to stop crying so that I could sleep.

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When Jason died, she agonized to see my suffering. She sobbed, “This is the worst thing that could happen to my daughter!” She mourned her beautiful grandson deeply and cried along with me for many years. My mother and I made sure he was never forgotten.

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The aging process crept into our relationship gradually. My mother who had been so strong became weaker. She had chronic back pain and silently suffered. It became difficult for her to walk and to manage things. Every week when we went shopping, she pushed herself to the limit. I knew she loved it, but felt sad to see her pain. It was mingled with her pleasure. Nothing meant more to her than shopping with me.

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Because she pushed herself, she fell many times. In 2009, my mother was near death and on a respirator. I was frantic and terrified. She was my cheering squad; she was the one who cared about everything I did and made me feel important.

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I had to face the fear I had always carried. I could not live without my mother, my best friend. All of my sadness and grief surfaced.

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Then something amazing happened to me and it was a real life miracle. I prayed that my mother would not die. At that time, I didn’t believe in God. I just had so much love for her.

––

And suddenly, the love my mother gave me began to bloom inside of me. I expressed my feelings about losing her through writing. This in turn caused me to embrace music. She had nurtured every one of my talents with her love.

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My fear dissolved and was replaced by joy. And all of it was because of her.

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This was the last card I gave my mother in July for her 88th birthday. It was in the drawer next to her bed.

As she continued fading, I became a brighter light and just kept getting stronger and stronger. And the most beautiful part was that I was able to share it with my mother because she recovered. I shined my light on her and she could see that I was happy. Everything she wanted for me came to pass. I was no longer suffering with grief. My children blossomed into wonderful human beings who also carried her love.

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Because of her illness, the mother who had comforted me became my child. When she was afraid, I lifted her up and was able to reassure her that she was safe. She fell again in 2011 and broke her hip. Without surgery, she was not expected to live very long, but two years later she was still alive.

So the faith that I envied in my mother came to me after all. I received a special blessing from God with music and songs. In the beginning, my songs healed me from grief over Jason’s death. But then the magic of my music helped me cope with my mother’s continued fade from life.

With dementia, my mother couldn’t share much with me the last few years. I’ve missed her very much, but with my strength I’ve learned to be my own best friend.

My mother was all about love. I smile just like she always did. Her love remains constant. Even death cannot separate us.

In Hebrew, my mother’s name Shirley means my song.

My mother was an exquisite song in my life. She is a magnificent melody that I will continue humming until the day I die.

–

There was hardly a dry eye at the funeral after my mother’s companion Miriam, spoke. I encouraged Miriam to speak, even though she was worried that she didn’t speak English well enough.

Click the blue link to play audio of Miriam’s eulogy:

Miriam’s eulogy for Shirley – October 17, 2013

EULOGY FOR SHIRLEY BY HER COMPANION, MIRIAM:

Hello. It is an honor for me to be part of this ceremony remembering my dear Shirley.

It is difficult for me to believe she is no longer with us. I wake up in the morning thinking that it’s just a dream. (Pause for tears) Sorry . . . and that I will again see those eyes that will speak to me when they will see me arrive. I see her open arms and her beautiful smile. Shirley will ask me where I have been – because I had left her alone. And they were giving her a hard time. I will tell Shirley that I was here and nobody will give her a hard time anymore.

I have so many memories of you, my beloved Shirley, that I will not be able to finish saying them all. I will only say that you were an example for me. You held onto life for your children and family because you knew how much they loved you and needed you – even though they were adults. For you, they were still your babies.

I will miss our outings. No one in the nursing home will go out 2-3 times a week. The staff and the older residents will say that your children spoiled you too much. They definitely inherited your great, noble and generous heart.

How can one not love a person so wonderful as you? A great mother, wife and friend. My beloved Shirley, even though I cry because of your absence, I know that you are in a better place beside God and Mr. Lee.

I know that I will see you again one day. Now you are an angel that watches over us. I won’t say goodbye. Instead – see you later. I will miss you all the days of my life and I will always love you Shirley.