myjourneysinsight

MEMORIES I TREASURE

Posted on December 21, 2012 by Judy

My post title is a lyric line from my most recent song “Music Saved Me.”

I do have a strong attachment to memories. My memories might involve “objects,” but those objects only serve as a way to remind me of memories filled with special people whom I’ve loved. Some of those memories are sad.

Currently, I’d like to think that I am creating happier memories. There are many “firsts” in my life, as I am now living on my own at the age of 53 for the first time in my life.

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A picture from when I was 17.

I understand why exciting things in my life can cause me to feel sadness. For decades, I relied upon my parents to cheer me on. Sadly, I didn’t share much with my husband.

Somehow, simply knowing that I can write freely has allowed me to dispel much of that sadness. Finding the courage to change my life, gave me the clarity to know that I was alone for far longer than I realized.

Not being able to express myself was far lonelier than anything else.

Now I can share my insights by writing. But my true expression has been through my music. I am joyful and dancing along to exquisite new songs arrangements that I work on weekly.

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This image is from a video of one of my performances at Kulak’s Woodshed. Sometimes the video has images that overlap, and I can see myself playing in the refection.

Recently, I told a good friend that my music has allowed me to “keep my sanity.” Later on, it dawned on me that those were not the best choice of words.

Even though I’ve written that “music saved me,” the fact is that I survived the death of my child without any music to help me. I wasn’t insane then, just sad. I see a far more positive way of looking at what my music does for me.

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My beautiful music inspires me and gives me tremendous appreciation for life.

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After I wrote of my memories related to my old Previa, I read a post on another blog that really spoke to me. I share an excerpt below. The author is D.D. Wood and her blog always carries such insightful words and beautiful photography (the image above, for example). D.D. is also an established singer/songwriter who has performed in various Disney films. Her blog can be found by clicking this link: Daily Divorce Meditations

“When I first went through my divorce, my feelings and my memories were so intense that they often hindered my progress in the present.

I spent so much time examining what had happened in my past, turning over each and every memory to see if it held the answer to what went wrong, that I wasn’t living in the moment.

I found myself unable to recover from my pain because I was constantly reliving it.”

–

MEMORIES OF MY 1993 TOYOTA PREVIA

I created a rendition of my old Previa going to heaven, which begins my post.

I ended up giving my car to my former housekeeper, Rosa who worked with our family for 23 years. Certainly, I was happy if she was able to get a little extra money at the junkyard for it. She was over this evening and I was able to show her my “dead minivan going to heaven” image. Then she told me something interesting.

She told me she gave the minivan to a neighbor with a large family who planned to fix it. It turned out that it would actually benefit two families. The husband’s sister had cancer. His wife’s sister was recently diagnosed with cancer also. The van would help them transport all of their children during this crisis. I was touched hearing this and imagined I might see my old car on the road someday; something I didn’t expect!

Now, I want to share some memories about the very first new car I ever owned. The excitement about my 1993 Previa lasted only a few months. The Northridge earthquake came along and my car became dented in many places because so many items in the garage fell on it.

I took that as a sign to get over keeping it like new. It was the perfect “mommy van” and later on “elder van.” It survived two major accidents and worked great for all the years I needed it to. The first accident happened when my daughter was a toddler. Five years later when my youngest son was born, my husband had an accident due to his fatigue.

Both times the car could be repaired.

On family vacations, our mini-van was packed and there was no end to fighting between our three children. There never was a pleasant car ride. I am traumatized remembering my husband’s booming voice yelling at them, as well as my own shrill pleas for them to stop fighting.

My children continued to grow. When they were older, I was buying huge amounts of household items and food every few days at Costco. My minivan was very useful for that.

But I had no pride in my vehicle. It attracted shopping cart dents. Eventually, none of the seatbelts retracted well and my husband would curse trying to put one on. I gave up trying to clean it. I even made a note of how long I could go between car washes. My last car wash was two years ago.

When my parents became infirm, the back area that once stored strollers was excellent for wheelchairs. In the beginning, a wheelchair was very heavy for me to lift. Later on, I learned how to easily fold it up and heave it into the trunk area.

My Previa had 215,000 miles on it. Only a year ago, I endangered my life when the drive shaft almost broke apart while I was driving on the freeway. I knew I deserved a newer car, but didn’t care. My car got me around.

I was slightly ashamed at how dirty my van was and decided the end was coming. I began to curse at it when the seatbelt continuously got caught as I closed the door.

My Previa didn’t even have a decent radio, so I listened to my iPod while driving with ear buds. I knew that wasn’t a good idea and I might even get a ticket.

I dreamt of listening to my music through speakers someday.

The beginning:

It was a summer evening and my parents came over for dinner. I was so excited to show them my new car. It was the first new car I had ever owned in my life.

I was able to buy it with cash, because that year my art career provided a good income.

I went to meet my parents outside. My mother gushed over my new car. She was enthusiastic while my father was quiet. He stayed outside with me and she went inside to see her grandchildren.

I recounted to my dad how the car salesman would not give me the price I wanted, so I went home. Two days later, the manager of the dealership agreed to my price and the car was delivered to my doorstep with the papers to sign.

Suddenly, my father started sobbing uncontrollably. I hadn’t expected this. I said, “Dad, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I was shocked.

He caught his breath and said hoarsely, “I am crying because I am so very proud of my daughter.”

Then I began crying!

When I wrote this, I cried again remembering how wonderful it was that my father loved me so much.

A picture from a family vacation. My brother, Norm is on the right.

A few months later:

It had been ten years since I had last seen my friend, Cheryl. She lived far away and was in town for a brief visit. We had been so close in college, and now this was our first visit after ten years. We had finally reconciled, and didn’t discuss our rift.

A long time ago, we were single woman and now we were mothers. Cheryl’s two young children played in the backyard. I held my infant daughter in my lap and my 3-year-old son sat next to me.

It was a lovely afternoon. We sipped iced tea and reminisced in-between tending to our children. It had been a little over a year since Jason had died. I was very sad and overweight. Rather than avoid bringing up grief, Cheryl asked me if I could show her pictures of Jason. She said, “Judy, he was so beautiful,” I cried and was very touched.

When it was time to go, I followed her outside to say goodbye. I had just gotten my new Previa and when she saw it in my driveway she said, “Oh my God, Judy, we wanted a Previa, but couldn’t afford it. You know, it’s the perfect family car, the absolute best! You are so lucky!”

I beamed at Cheryl. She always knew how to make me feel great. I hugged her tightly; I had missed her over those ten years. I also knew that it might be many years before I’d see her again.

I miss my good friend, Cheryl, who died from breast cancer in 2009.

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Not sure if this was the illustration in my anecdote below or not. But it was one of dozens that were commissioned through my San Francisco agent, Barb Hauser.

2 years later:

My illustration was due the following morning in San Francisco. My agent wanted to give me as much time as possible and agreed to pick the artwork up at the airport. I simply had to drive half an hour to a local airport and send it as a parcel on a flight. It wasn’t cheap, but the client had agreed to pay for it. I felt exhilarated to be able to pull off such a challenging assignment so quickly.

My eyes were bleary and when I finished my painting at 2 a.m. Fortunately, there was a 7 a.m. flight and my agent would be able to pick it up and still get it to the client in the morning. It made sense for me to drive to the airport and be done with it.

But at 3 a.m. when I arrived at the airport, it was closed. I didn’t know this airport wasn’t open all night.

I curled up in the trunk area of my Previa and was thankful for the room. I slept a few hours until the airport opened, so I could put my artwork on that flight.

After that, I always kept a pillow and blanket in my car.

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3 years later:

My daughter was in preschool and I was on my way to pick her up. As I exited the freeway, I saw a car careening toward me through a red light. I couldn’t stop in time. I braked as the other car clipped the front of my car. My head lightly bumped the side window, but I didn’t feel any pain.

I could see the other lady was bleeding and her windshield was shattered. I sprinted out of my car to the nearest house across the street. I banged on the door, and shouted that there was an accident nearby. How wonderful it would have been if I owned a cellphone then!

I ran back to my car and a moment later there were sirens. The paramedics immobilized me with a large brace upon my neck. They told me that I should not have moved at all after the accident. But all I could think of was how my daughter was waiting to be picked up and I wasn’t there.

At the ER, I begged a nurse to bring me a phone so I could call the preschool. Finally, I was able to call, and was relieved to know that another mother would bring my daughter home. The preschool receptionist was concerned about me, but I reassured her that I was fine and the hospital would release me soon.

At that moment, I had to put the phone down because a doctor came to examine me. I was taken out for x-rays and when I came back into the room, a nurse told me my husband had called. It turned out that the preschool had called him. He did not know if I was injured and had frantically searched to find out which hospital I was in. I picked up the phone and my husband’s voice was angry when he asked me why I hadn’t called him right away.

An hour or so later he arrived to pick me up. I tried to explain how I only had time to call 911. After that, I was so worried about our daughter being picked up that I hadn’t had time to make any other calls. My words did not ring true for him and his eyes were filled with disappointment.

The ER said I was fine and I was allowed to go home after four hours. I went to bed exhausted.

I could not let go of how disappointed my husband was with me. I told myself that his reaction was because he was so worried. But I had such an ominous feeling.

I also missed my parents who were out of town on a cruise that week. They were the ones I really wanted to call; my husband was right. As I was dozing off, I heard him shrug his shoulders and ask me to give him a back rub.

I felt such a stabbing pain in my heart, and I pushed it back down.

I just knew my husband would never forgive me for not calling him immediately. And at that moment, I knew I would never forgive him either. It was the beginning of my heart growing cold.

I wished instead that he had offered to give me a back rub.

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I named my photo “No Longer Lovebirds.”The bird on the left looks angry and the bird on the right has her head somewhere else.

I named my photo “No Longer Lovebirds.”
The bird on the left looks angry and the bird on the right looks withdrawn.

Eighteen years later:

It was outing day for my 87-year-old father. He always looked forward to coming to my house so he could “putter” around. I arrived at his nursing home to pick him up and pushed his wheelchair to my car. Even with a scarf and blanket, he still shivered. He gripped his catheter and hose in a shopping bag, which he thought cleverly concealed it.

A nurse urged me to wear gloves when handling his bag because my father had rampant infections, but I never did. When we reached my minivan, my father slowly stood up from his wheelchair. I gently lifted his leg into my car while he gripped the door handle. He moaned loudly and then grunted, “I need you to move my other leg over now.”

It was always the same routine. I moved his other leg over. Then I reached around to put on his seatbelt. His voice was gruff when he said, “You don’t need to bother with a seatbelt.”

I ignored him. He was like my child now. I actually enjoyed reaching across his body to snap him in securely. I felt like I was a “good mommy,” even though he flinched when I touched him. I still remember his soft flannel shirt and skinny body under it.

After that, I felt confident as I put his wheelchair in the trunk. The car ride to my home was interminable because he cried out loudly with every bump I went over. During the rest of the drive he softly moaned.

I could not stand to hear his suffering and cried tears inside while I drove. I felt so helpless when he cried.

I decided I was just not a good enough driver.

–

“Getting Up Off the Ground”

It was Sunday morning and the sky was gray. I drove in the misty rain half an hour to attend my first voice lesson with a new teacher.

Her name was Kimberly. A year earlier, I had heard her sing at an event for a good friend of mine. When I heard Kimberly’s voice, I was envious and wished I could sing that way. When the moment was right, I introduced myself and told her what a beautiful voice she had. Later on, I found out that Kimberly taught voice lessons and I wrote her last name down on a piece of paper.

My first vocal coach, Peaches Chrenko moved away two months ago. Peaches had worked with me for over two years and I sure missed our joyful lessons.

Last week, I decided it was time for me to sing again. Just like with George, the day came when I was ready and I remembered in my drawer there was a piece of paper with Kimberly’s last name on it. I searched her up on the Internet and contacted her. I was amazed when she emailed me back and said that she remembered me.

On Sunday our lesson went beautifully. I brought my guitar and played one of my favorite songs for her called “Alabaster Seashell.” She understood exactly what I wanted.

I just knew Kimberly was special. There was a paper list taped on the wall above her keyboard. It was a list of vocal reminders. I asked her if they were written specifically for me and she smiled and said they weren’t.

Her technique was exactly what I needed. I drove home singing. Life was definitely improving.

It was all about giving myself permission to be happy.

–

My two older brothers, Howard and Norman

“My second new car”

I came home from my lesson and twenty minutes later I drove to meet my brother, Norm and sister-in-law, Jo at a Honda dealership.

My brother said he’d help me when I leased my first car. The entire process took five hours. It was exhausting and I kept looking at Norm and Jo with intense gratitude.

They had given up their Sunday just to be there for me.

At one point, the negotiations were getting frustrating. Hidden costs kept popping up, and Norm questioned each one. The fact that Norm was a CPA became easily apparent to the salesman because Norm understood every ploy.

Finally, we all had had enough. It turned out that the car I was negotiating for wasn’t even available in the color I wanted. They had another Civic in that color, but it had a more expensive accessory, a spoiler, which I didn’t care about.

It was time to go.

I picked up my purse. We were all tired. I told my brother there was no hurry. It had been 19 years since I’d had a new car and I could wait a little longer. But just as we began to step outside, the salesman came running after us. He said they would give us a better offer on the Civic with the spoiler.

Two hours later, I was driving home my new Honda Civic.

I felt so blessed that I had so much love from both my two brothers.

With Norm and Jo’s help, I returned the car I had borrowed from my middle brother, Howard. Howard’s generosity allowed me to take my time while shopping for a new car.

It was still drizzling as I drove home. I was overcome by the overpowering odor of my brand new car. In the darkness, it maneuvered so easily.

I pretended I was piloting a rocket ship through space. As the drizzle became a steady rain, I was pleased that I figured out how to turn on the windshield wipers.

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I decided the rain held my father’s happy tears from above.

My childhood artwork that my father saved was especially meaningful.

I love the childhood artwork that my father saved.

My parents would have been so proud of my brothers for helping me. Sadly, my dad died this past May and my mother has severe dementia.

Humor Moments:

I received an email from my old boyfriend, Dr. Sam congratulating me on my new car. We reconnected when he found my blog and left a comment (#137 YOU’RE NOT THE ONE) Sam and I love puns very much. His words are in brown.

On Dec 19, 2012, Dr. Sam wrote:

Hi Judy!…Mazel Tov on the car…use it in good health!

Thanks, Sam – It’s new and that’s so cool for me. I’m really enjoying it. I’m actually writing a farewell story about my Previa at the moment. Hope you’re well.

A farewell story? How about a car-toon?

I love that pun! It would be a car-tune if I wrote a song! Thanks, Sam.

You are right…so make it an auto-biography!

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Your puns are driving me crazy!

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I thought that I had the last word, but I was wrong. I received an email from my good friend, Carol. Carol and Sam were together many years ago and I reconnected with Carol at the same time as Sam.

Her message was:

On Dec 20, 2012, Carol wrote:

Keeping up with these puns isn’t just tiring, it’s exhausting!

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© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2012. 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", Aging Parents, Art and Illustration, Caregiving, composing, coping with divorce, creativity, Daily Life, divorce, divorce after long marriage, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", Honda Civic, Humor, humor daily life, inspiration, lease a car, loss, lyric line, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, new car, separation, those memories, Toyota Previa, voice lessons, writing | Leave a comment

HOW WILL I EVER SAY GOODBYE?

Posted on December 20, 2012 by Judy

The link below is for a recent performance of my song in progress:

NEVER GONE AWAY-ACOUSTIC PERFORMANCE

ON 12/21/12

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Every time I sang the words “How will I ever say goodbye?” I felt tears fill my eyes. My son’s death was something I had not consciously anticipated, though he was sickly with his heart defect.

What would it have been like to be with my child knowing he would soon die? I could not imagine!

I wrote to a mother last night. She was anticipating that soon her daughter’s suffering would end and she would be entering the black hole of grief.

Wednesday afternoon:

I came home from working with George. My newest song arrangement was so magical that I could hear it playing continuously throughout my day.

This was a very special song. I wrote it in 1980 for my good friend, Marge before she left to go abroad for a year. Marge was also in my thoughts recently when I contacted a new voice teacher, Kimberly. It was through Marge that I had heard Kimberly sing.

When we met.

I knew the memory of Marge’s smile would definitely stay with me while she was gone and my song was originally named “You’ll Have Never Gone Away.” I was grateful for our friendship. I let Marge know that she would always be a part of this song, though I planned to revise it. I decided there was a new story to tell with my song.

First, I gave my song a shorter title of “Never Gone Away.”

I pictured a mother getting ready to say goodbye to her daughter who had suffered so much. What could she possibly say to her as she was dying?

I decided I would channel their love in order to revise my lyrics. Then I would give them my song as a gift.

Wednesday night:

Dearest Tersia,

Today, I worked on an older song and it became very meaningful for me. My song is about saying goodbye and letting go. It had me thinking of you. I am going to dedicate a revised version of this song to you and Vicky. It will be called “Never Gone Away.”

I don’t have a vocal for it yet and may not have it finished in time. Just know that when it is finished, you and Vic inspired me. I cannot sing it now without crying.

Even without lyrics, the music speaks. I have a karaoke of it and I’m attaching it here. I hope my music is a ray of light in your darkness. This song is for both of you.

My father saved so much of my old artwork. This drawing is from middle school.

I belong to a club that no one ever would want to join – the one for bereaved parents. There was no mistaking my pain this past week when I thought of all the new members resulting from the tragedy in Connecticut. I read something written by another bereaved mother who said it so well that I couldn’t imagine writing anything better than what she wrote.

In the Days Following a Child’s Death: One Mother’s Perspective

Children died Friday. They died in schools, on highways, in hospitals, and in their own homes. On Friday, their mothers joined a sisterhood I’m in. They are now one of us. We are one. By now, she is exhausted. She discovered early-on one of the hardest truths. Sleep is cruel. She longs for it because it offers her hope of escape, and in it she can still see her son or hear her daughter’s voice. Yet in it, she also re-lives the words no parent wants to hear, and by now, she knows there is no escaping them. They reappear in her dreams, and she cries out in her sleep or bolts upright in bed hoping it was just a nightmare only to rediscover her living hell. By now, she has discovered the cruelest of sleep’s tricks, that when waking, there is a foggy moment of forgetting that precedes the remembering, “My child is dead.” Each time she remembers, she feels the same knife to her heart she felt when she first heard the words, and she has felt that knife again and again and again by now.

The rest of this amazing post can be read by clicking the link below:

In the Days Following a Child’s Death: One Mother’s Perspective lettersfromdonna on December 17, 2012

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On Dec 19, 2012, Judy wrote:

Tersia, it meant so much to me that you found the time to read Jason’s story and to share my words.

On Dec 19, 2012, Tersia wrote:

Dear Judy, Thank you so much for reaching out to me. I finally read your Jason’s final journey, and I wept for you. I did however realize that in a weird and convoluted way there is a purpose behind all our grief. You reach out to people in a similar situation to you were in, and I am starting a Hospice. You touch peoples’ lives and souls with your beautiful words and voice. Jason has brought peace and consolation in peoples’ lives – through you. Thank you!

Love and light, Tersia

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“More than you know”

By tersiaburger

I have received a couple of very touching emails from Judy Unger. I am an avid follower of Judy’s blog, myjourneysinsight.com. I have sensed from Judy’s blogs that she has suffered deeply. I have however always avoided reading her posts on her son Jason’s death. Somehow it is too close to home.

This week I received another caring email from Judy. Tonight I read Judy’s post on her child, Jason Mark.

I wept for Judy.

With fresh, tear-filled eyes, I reread my email. I listened to Judy’s beautiful song and went to lay with my child. I held her gently and told her how much I love her. She is having a bad day and is feeling very frail.

Once again I share this remarkable woman’s caring email with you. Her words are flattering and the email personal. Yet I am compelled to share this email…I hope that you will listen to her beautiful song. Thank you dear Judy for baring your soul and showing your compassion. Thank you for reaching out to me!

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Tagged anticipatory grief, Caregiving, childhood friendship, compassionate friends, composing, creativity, death, death of a child, dying, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, Hospice, impending death, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother daughter relationship, Music, original songs, right-to-die, singing, songwriting, terminal illness, writing | 4 Comments

I WAS SO SAD

Posted on December 13, 2012 by Judy

“Songwriting saved me”

At this time in my life, there are few words to describe the euphoria in my soul when I am listening to my musical creations.

I’ve mentioned how I sometimes hear a voice in my mind that channels lyrics and stories for me. It grows louder and louder until I am compelled to listen. If it’s words, I must write them down. If it’s a melody, I’ll play my guitar or sing.

Creating a song is almost like a birth. It swells inside of me, until it breaks free. I see each and every one of my songs as a unique entity and like a child, each one has it’s own personality. Just as a baby grows, so do my songs. Sometimes I’ll arrange them in different ways, and then they are like multiple births!

All of my songs were seeds. It is at this beautiful time in my life that I am growing and developing them.

Recently, I wrote about how my grief was like a forest wildfire. Out of the blackened devastation, a new forest began to grow again. Then I mentioned my awareness that there were certain wildflowers that only grow as a result of a fire; that was my high school biology coming back to me.

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When I was younger, I smiled continuously.

There was a reason that I wrote that. Originally, I thought that I was one of those flowers, but then I had an epiphany. My songs are those wildflowers!

It turned out that the grief that once wrecked my life, gave me a gift to access my heart in a very special way.

Grief allowed songs to blossom that might never have been born otherwise.

And believe it or not, now I’ve decided that this concept applies to my separation and divorce. I am grieving my marriage and former life. If a fire was my metaphor for grief, it made sense that I pictured fiery imagery to describe my current feelings. Recently, I’ve written about journeying through a burnt landscape and dealing with a fire-breathing dragon.

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Therefore, the “fire of grief” is the fuel that allows me to compose.

My divine song creations inspire and heal me with their beauty. I eagerly share them because I love to help and inspire others.

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My ole Previa

Well, the final word is that my Previa is not worth fixing. It has been many years since I’ve had a new car. I know this sounds silly, but I am mourning the death of my minivan. It was the first and only new car I ever purchased in my life. I bought it the same year my daughter was born, and they’re both 19 years old. My Previa carries many memories for me and I plan to write more about it.

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A painting of grapes I did at age 10.

A painting of grapes I did in my forties.

Unfortunately, last week I bit off most of my fingernails. It was not a good sign for me. I had been so proud of growing them when I first began healing. Before that, I was a nail-biter all of my life.

For such a long time, I was so sad. I carried the world upon my shoulders and did not ask for help. But I have changed a lot. I am leaning on friends and family. At this time in my life, I am fortunate to have my two older brothers looking out for me. My oldest brother is negotiating the best lease deal possible for me on a Honda Civic. My middle brother has lent me a car until I make a decision. My parents would be so proud of them!

–

I’ve continued attending hypnotherapy sessions. When I see my hypnotherapist Connie, I am always passionate and enthusiastic as I share with her my latest musical creations. Yet when I speak about other aspects of my life, sometimes I find myself weeping.

I have been frustrated how I began my journey feeling joyful and light, only to gain my weight back. The heaviness that eclipsed my joy actually began well over a year ago. It led up to gathering the courage to end my marriage. Connie was supportive, but could only do so much.

Hypnosis only works when a person wants to change. I have not felt ready to diet or exercise more, even though it would certainly help me if I did.

On Saturday morning, I began our recent session by telling Connie how my eyesight was really bothering me. Connie was always compassionate as she listened.

All of my other stressors were worse because my eyes always hurt and felt tired since my cataract surgeries. It was as if I were wearing uncomfortable contact lenses that I couldn’t remove. I had considered going back to see my ophthalmologist, but didn’t really see any solution. At my final appointment, I was told to just continue putting in artificial tears, and so far that hadn’t made any difference.

I also felt frustrated that my close-up vision was so poor. Glasses simply did not allow for the intricate details that my younger eyes were once able to see.

I continued with more self-pity. I am so human!

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It was time for me to do “discovery work” while under hypnosis, which would allow me gather information from my subconscious. I was definitely ready to discover anything that would help me feel better.

I relaxed and settled into a soft reclining chair before our hypnosis began. The light from outside filtered through a window and illuminated the room. I loved examining her beautiful garden when I’d walk by, and now the flowers outside sparkled in the sunlight. Connie’s warmth usually brought me to tears; I missed my mother so much and it felt so nice to be cared about. She covered me with a soft blanket, and gently adjusted it. It was such a safe place for me to be. My eyes closed as I drifted off into a hypnotic trance.

–

Connie asked me to find a place that felt safe and comforting. As I had many times before, I imagined I was in a forest.

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When I was younger, I smiled continuously.

It easily popped into my mind, because only recently I had written about how my life was like a beautiful forest. But then it had burned to the ground many years ago.

It turned out that fire was my metaphor for grief.

My forest grew back and I had deep appreciation for the new growth. I arose out of the ashes and pictured myself as a flower that only bloomed because of a raging fire. It gave me strength and purpose.

Then I heard Connie’s voice and she gently asked me to describe my surroundings. I tried to picture it, but could not. Even though I concentrated, I still drew a blank. Where was I?

It was confusing to me that I wasn’t able to describe where I was. After a moment, I looked around and said to her, “Okay, I am not in a forest anymore!”

–

Suddenly, it was amazing how the imagery became vivid. I began to describe my vision.

I told her I was in a desert.

This painting cropped from a salad package illustration of mine, reminded me of my love for mountains and shadows.

As a child, I would stare outside the window for hours as we drove on a family vacation to desert destinations. I loved looking at the colors of the desert. The warm creases of the sculpted mountains with contrasting blue shadows always intrigued me; I held the images in my mind so I could paint them later on.

I liked the idea that I was in new surroundings. I had started with a forest and ended up somewhere else. That was a parallel to my life. A forest is packed with growth and a desert is sparse; hence I had definitely downsized.

It occurred to me that there was no longer evidence of a fire, either.

Even though a desert landscape was often barren, I told Connie how I always found deserts to be beautiful. Deserts held amazing vistas in every direction I looked. And the colors of the sky were always breathtaking.

As I described my vision, I noticed that I was appreciating the distance. I was looking toward the mountains, instead of the small footpath in front of me. I said, “I am not looking closely at anything. I feel more alive looking toward the horizon; it is so expansive and beautiful.”

I was able to make a meaningful connection, because there was a way that I could apply this to my life.

I said carefully, “Perhaps it is time for me to stop focusing so closely at everything. If I did that in this desert, I would be looking at the spiny plants and sand, instead of appreciating the entire landscape.”

I continued. “When I was in the forest, I marveled at the details. I did not look too far ahead. As a young child, I was lost once in a forest. I kept looking down and didn’t keep track of where I was going. Now that I’m older, I feel like I could appreciate a sweeping landscape because that vision allows me to contemplate a bigger picture. Tiny details take me away from that.”

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My thoughts were still thinking about ways to stop focusing on everything so closely, when it was time for me to awaken from hypnosis. Connie counted slowly to ten and instructed me to awaken.–

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A crayon rendition I made as a young child of a beautiful desert.I reminded how I loved reptiles.

A crayon rendition I made as a young child of a beautiful desert. It reminds me how I loved reptiles.

Our session yielded tremendous clarity for me. Not looking too closely, was completely relevant to my current situation following cataract surgery. I decided my disappointment with my eyesight could be reversed if I appreciated the excellent acuity I now had for distance instead.

Also, the problems related to my separation and divorce were fairly temporary. If I was able to look farther ahead, rather than focusing on all the smaller issues, I was certain I’d feel better.

It was a few days after that hypnotherapy session, when I realized how much that session really helped me. I share some anecdotes about my daily life.

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On Monday, I had a consultation with a cardiologist to go over the results from my holter monitor. While waiting to be seen, I stared at an illustration of a heart that was on the wall. I had created several illustrations of hearts early in my art career. The poster had the word “Heart” in large letters. I love word plays and began to notice all the applicable words in my life that fit into the word heart. I found: art, hear, ear, and he. The word “he” didn’t really fit in, so with irony, I tossed it from my list.

My cardiologist wore a turban and was a handsome young man. He made comfortable eye contact with me, and carefully listened as I described my palpitations to him. When I finished, he calmly told me he was not concerned about my extra heartbeats and medication usually made this type of condition worse.

He asked me about my level of exercise. I said I planned to go back to playing tennis soon. The fact that I played tennis really impressed him and as a result, he said a stress test was unnecessary.

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But then as I was leaving, he told me he wanted to order an ultrasound echocardiogram in order to completely reassure me. I would get an appointment for that soon.

The next day, my mother visited my home – it was the same home I grew up in and even though my mother had dementia, she was aware of the familiar surroundings. Her caregiver/companion Miriam came with her.

Miriam and I caught up on things. Miriam also told me how much she loved my coop/apartment. She was suffering in her own marriage and wistfully looked at my bedroom. My bed had a new brightly colored comforter. I gave myself permission to buy it.

I had not purchased a new comforter in a long time. My old bedspread before it was at least fifteen years old.

“I love those colors,” Miriam said. She continued and added, “Judy, I dream about having a bedroom like this, it’s just perfect.”

I knew what she meant. It was one of the best parts of my new life.

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After our lunch, I played my new song aloud for my mother and Miriam. The new arrangement was gorgeous and I put my heart into singing it. It was good practice because soon I planned to record a vocal for it.

My mother was pleasant and sweetly glowed with a radiant smile the entire time I was with her. I let myself bathe in her smile. I did not focus upon her dementia and the sad fact that she could not converse with me anymore.

For just a moment, I imagined I was looking into the distance.

I took a deep breath and savored her presence because I knew that one day I’d miss her smile very much.

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A picture of the way I want to remember my mother

This picture is the way I want to remember my mother.

Below, I am sharing some messages from an Internet grief forum:

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On Dec 10, 2012, Judy wrote:

Dear Sammi, Thank you so much for commenting about my story. So often I feel like I am irritating. I don’t want to upset people who are suffering with their loss and can’t handle hearing about hope.

I remember when I was suffering with my child’s death, I was always angry. I didn’t want someone telling me that time would heal. I just didn’t believe it and certainly felt like my pain was too horrible to overcome. Also, I felt like I loved my child more than anyone could.

That’s why I continue to share. I share how sad I was, because it reminds me of my progress. The torment of grief is horrific, but you will emerge. It is just a different life.

Love, Judy

From: Sammi

Date: December 10, 2012

Subject: [grief support]

Judy I do not find you irritating. I view you as someone who knows what I am going through. I appreciate your thoughts and experiences. I am having a very hard time right now. I just went through Thanksgiving, and now the Christmas holidays then New Years. There are days that all I do is cry in spurts all day.

I was touched when I looked at your beautiful baby boy’s picture. He jumped off the computer with the brilliance if his smile. My son was much older, but still too young. He also was always smiling. I miss that with every beat of my heart.

Thank you Judy for sharing your journey. I appreciate it.

From: Sheryl

Date: December 10, 2012

Subject: [grief support]

Judy, I am always moved and learn from your posts. I just don’t write on here often so please don’t feel like you are irritating us. There are probably lots of people like me who are soaking it in quietly.

I like reading what you write to help me when I talk to others who have experienced a loss. Keep writing and let us know when your book is published!

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Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, Caregiving, composing, creativity, Daily Life, death, death of a child, dementia, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, Hypnotherapy, inspiration, loss, lovesong, lyric development, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, separation, singing, songwriting, writing | 3 Comments

MUSIC SAVED ME-PART 2

Posted on December 11, 2012 by Judy

MUSIC SAVED ME

When I was young, my senses brought pleasure

Life was a garden, memories I treasure

But I lost my passion as years wore on

Too busy to notice my senses were gone

When I was young, I loved my eyesight

Colors and sounds filled me with delight

But over time color turned gray

And sound became noise all through my day

I was so sad and pain left a hole

‘Til noise turned to music and rescued my soul

Music inspired, while noise was empty

When noise turned to music

It saved me

When I was young, dreams I could touch

I tasted and savored; I loved life so much

I missed my senses when they slipped away

But the magic returned when music would play

I was so sad and pain left a hole

‘Til noise turned to music and rescued my soul

Music inspired, while noise was empty

When noise turned to music it saved me

When noise turned to music

It saved me

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My butterfly illustrations were originally commissioned as notecards early in my art career.

If you listen to my song, it will become clear to anyone with a heartbeat why my music has saved me! Click the blue links to play audio:

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Link to performance on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJNgWdQ9TbY

When I performed my song at Kulak’s Woodshed’s Open Mic Night, before I began there was a technical problem that took twenty minutes to solve. Ironically, it involved a piercing noise; I had to cover my ears. Hence my song’s lyrics of: “When noise turned to music,” was apt!

It was unbelievable for me, how my name was chosen from a hat to be the first performer out of fifty people on this open mic night. This has happened so many times that it is statistically amazing.

During the time I was waiting to sing and start the show, I was interviewed. There is an excerpt transcript at the end of this post.

Clicking the blue links below plays audio:

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JUDY’S 3 MINUTE OPEN MIC INTERVIEW 12/4/12

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When I sing, I pour out my soul. My songs fill up my heart, and I can play approximately all forty of them by heart. There are many lyrics and chords and some of my songs even have two variations of chords to be played with a capo on different frets. Many of my songs have unusual fingerings that are quite complex, as I enjoy creating unique guitar chords.

A lot of memorization is required of me!

I cannot adequately describe how I feel about the sound of my guitar. I do know that certain chords bring tears to my eyes.

I was never confident of myself as a singer and still am not. Certainly, I have improved over the last two years. Before that, I hardly sang for thirty years.

My arranger, George helps me to create gorgeous arrangements for my songs. We also create instrumentals because they allow me to enjoy an alternate version of my song without having to address my vocal ability. I have created many instrumentals and plan to market them soon. At this time, they are on the music page of my blog to be freely listened to.

When I listen to my instrumentals, the music speaks to me without words.

Click the blue link below to read Part 1 of this song story:

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#310 WHEN NOISE TURNED TO MUSIC

Overall, George is very shy, and I don’t write about him too often. He rarely goes on the Internet; and when he isn’t creating music, he reads philosophy books. He did not want me to share his picture or last name.

I really felt this way as a child.

George and I began working on my new song. Sometimes, I recorded guitar tracks at home and he added instrumentation to them. But for this particular song, I wanted his input.

We began first by outlining the verses and choruses. I usually provided him with chords and sang passages as we worked. For this song, I would record the guitar tracks later on. He tapped while I sang to pick out the tempo.

We started with our first instrument. George had at least seven keyboards. He would close his eyes and try to feel which one would have the magical sounds we were looking for on a particular day.

It was a painstaking process for us to choose a sound. Sometimes we would both listen to hundreds of instruments before finding “the one.” Many of the sounds were bizarre, yet we never knew when we’d find that perfect one for my song. I was open to his ideas, even though he knew that I wasn’t excited about some of the stranger ones. He would sigh and say, “I know you won’t like this one, but I think it’s great.” I would listen and trust his intuition.

But often I wasn’t really as open as I could be. I hardly ever wanted drums or percussion. My favorite sounds were flutes. There were zillions of strings and George was very particular about those. He loved adding a bass. Initially I wasn’t excited about it, but began to appreciate what it added to my song.

When George discovered a beautiful melody for a solo area, sometimes I would hum along with him to develop it further. He hardly ever wrote anything down and he would experiment. He called it “jamming” and many times he’d lament that he should have recorded a beautiful interlude when he was just goofing around.

Often, his amazing counterpoints were just that – accidental. Still, it was mind-boggling for me how he knew exactly how the arrangement would sound when he added five more instruments.

Sometimes, I marveled how music was like a painting. When I used to create watercolor paintings, each layer of color would subtly alter the layer below it. As George began weaving different sounds together, my song would to come to life. The entire process was so beautiful that I wept tears he couldn’t see.

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“Music Inspires”

My lyrics are my subconscious speaking. Sometimes it starts with a story. This song began with my parable “When Noise Turned to Music.”

The reality that allowed me to find my lyrics came from deep unhappiness in my personal life. Every night, the TV was always on in my bedroom and it drove me crazy; I could not think. I doubt if I will ever watch one again. The yapping dog did not allow me to speak. My husband was kinder to him than to me.

I chose not to use all of the comparisons that I had in my story about noise versus music. My lyrics only described noise as empty. Suffice to say that noise was my metaphor for all the chaos that was manifested in my life for many years. Noise also represented confusion.

My confusion was about whether I had the courage to change my life, rather than accept a condition where I was suffering.

But I also had spiritual confusion.

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And it was music that brought clarity back to my life and represented my spiritual awakening.

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I am so grateful that I have music to give me joy. This has been a difficult time in my life and so much adjustment is required. My 31-year marriage is over and I am living on my own for the first time in my life (with two teenagers). My father died six months ago and my mother has severe dementia and that holds challenges.

There is no doubt that my music continues to save me. I remember how I’ve written those words many times over the past two years. Once again, my subconscious spoke to me. When I wrote the lyrics “music saved me,” they easily spilled forth from my lips to become the last line. It was because music was so mesmerizing and comforting, that I knew my life would never be drab or empty again.

The concept of “being saved” did sound a little desperate. It made me think of circumstances such as being saved from drowning or a fire – of saving one’s life.

I mulled over some alternate lyric choices for my song, such as: my music freed me or my music changed me.

I had to go with my music saving me – especially now.

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INTERVIEW AT KULAK’S WOODSHED’S OPEN MIC ON 12/4/12:

(My words are in purple)

Hi Judy, my name’s Diana.

Hi, Diana!

How are you?

I’m great!

Good. Do you guys mind if we just talk for a minute and ask some questions – songwriter-to-songwriter stuff? Somebody’s going to pull the plug any minute and say let’s get started.

No problem – I’m honored.

Until that happens, where are you from?

I live in this area. I actually grew up in North Hollywood and just moved back to North Hollywood because I’m going through a divorce after 31 years of marriage.

You know, that’s something to write about!

I do write – I’m a writer and a musician.

Excellent. How long have you been writing songs?

I wrote songs when I was a teenager until the age of twenty when I got married. Then I stopped for 30 years.

And now you’re back to it – Yay!

Actually, I’m going to let you in on a secret.

Okay, what’s your secret?

My songs erupt from me and I got divorced because of a song. I wrote a song that expressed my true feelings that I couldn’t tell my husband – it just came out of me. And then I wrote a song about what music has done to my life. I would say the reason I’m happy now is because of music.

What a great place to share that feeling. You say the songs erupt out of you. Do the words come out and then the music or . . .?

It all comes out at once in different ways – sometimes it’s the chords, sometimes it is the lyrics and sometimes it’s all together. I had a child that died twenty years ago and my music healed me. With music I smile because it makes me alive. I love my music.

That is so, so wonderful.

That’s my story.

How many of you guys feel like that? I share that with you.

Do you? Because I didn’t do it for 30 years . . .

Me, too!

Really? I love this! So, it’s kind of like being born again.

Like, “I’m back!”

And my songs are all babies. They were seeds and they were planted when I was young, and now I got to grow them.

Yeah, excellent! That is so, so sweet.

Thank you.

And what kind of genre would you say that you write in?

I’m a “healing musician.” My music heals me and I’m hoping it’s helpful to other people. I write to people about courage to change their life, ability to feel love even though they’ve lost someone and my book about my story will be coming out soon.

Oh, that’s wonderful. Come back and let us know – we’ll have a launch party for you!

Oh my god, thank you. I’d love that!

The word is out – it’s getting close . . .

It’s a good thing I’m not nervous anymore!

Judy, how is it that you got called first again? What do you do? Are you a magnet in there?

I think god is in the room with me – I feel so blessed and appreciative of my life. I never was a religious person, and when I think of music – it saved me. Some people think god saved them. To me, music and god could be the same thing.

You know, it’s all about how you interpret it. Is it a new song you’re playing tonight?

Brand new! The name of my song is “When Noise Turned to Music,” I think. Actually, it might be music saved me.

So basically, we will tell you what the title of your song is when you’re done.

Anybody vote – “Music Saved Me” or “Noise Turned to Music?”

Right off the bat I think, “Music Saved Me.”

You know what, that’s the last line of the song.

It sounds better.

That’s it, then!

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