myjourneysinsight

PAIN LEFT A HOLE

Posted on November 28, 2012 by Judy

She was blinded when she emerged from the tunnel. For so long, she anticipated the glorious moment, of raising her arms to the sky and basking in the sunshine.

But instead, she could barely open her eyes. The sun was too bright and the light blinded her. She tried to adjust to the light, but her eyes still hurt even after a few days. She began to realize that her eyes were very different now, so many changes had happened while she was in the tunnel. Now she felt much older and weaker, even though not much time had passed.

It was also hard to straighten up after crawling for so long. But her music still helped her and was her nourishment. Each song infused her with hope. Finally her eyes adjusted, and she realized the tunnel opened up to a precipice. There was nowhere else to go as she stood at the edge of a cliff. Not long ago, she had clearly seen that vision. In her mind, she easily pictured herself leaping off the edge and soaring, without any fear of falling.

Yet now, she was terrified she would fall. She imagined that it couldn’t hurt nearly as much as the pain in her heart. Finally, the brightness was too much. She decided to retreat back into the tunnel. It wasn’t time to fly yet. Perhaps she might never fly. It occurred to her that something had changed. She had stopped dreaming.–

I wrote my parable above while in an emotional and teary state; I know I’m depressed. I realize that I am grieving the loss of my 31-year marriage, though I know the pain is temporary while I adjust. I’ve begun looking into divorce support groups and counseling. I made a breakthrough of defeating laziness by taking several walks across the street from my new abode. I lived in this coop until the age of 21 and have memories of attending the high school across the street. As I walked and listened to my music, I began looking at the sky and trees. My heart felt lighter. I took a few pictures with my cellphone to add to my blog.

–

I finally received news from my doctor that the results of my holter monitor were not serious. However, I have great benefit from the wisdom of my good friend, Dr. Sam, whom I reconnected with not long after I began blogging. Dr. Sam and I dated in high school and he found my blog after I wrote a story about the “first song I ever wrote.” He suggested I delve deeper into the results to be absolutely certain that my irregular heartbeat wasn’t dangerous. I have followed his advice and am waiting to hear back from my doctor.

–

Two weeks ago, I performed at an open mic night.

I illustrated this as an exercise demonstration for an art student years ago.

I want to share an exchange with an Internet grief forum. It began with John comforting a fellow griever with a statement of “things will get better over time.” Jane responded and told John he couldn’t understand the depth of her pain – the loss of a child. What he was saying seemed like platitudes to her. John responded that he knew about pain because his grandfather had hung himself and his sister died when a truck crushed her. Jane wrote back to once again reiterate that although John meant well, he still couldn’t imagine the difference of losing a child.

On Nov 25, 2012, Jane wrote:

Dear John,  I am not making light of your grief. Grief hurts no matter how you put it. I know you miss your grandfather and sister and I am sure the pain is almost unbearable at times. The loss of your own child differs greatly from other family members. I have lost both of my parents, 2 in-laws, and my best friend, but all their losses together don’t even come close to the loss of my child. It is very difficult to explain but to see that little life you brought into this world, die in front of your own eyes is something I cannot deal with most days. I wish you comfort and peace in your losses but I hope you can understand losing a child is the worst possible pain. I would take any form of cancer or death for myself first, anytime, any day.

I don’t care what age your child dies; they are still your child, your baby, and your reason for life. It has been 20 months for me since I lost my 30-year-old son from Sudden Cardiac Arrest. Every day is different and some days I wish for my own death to take me to him. People often tell me “they understand.” I had one person tell me they understood as they recently lost a pet. I wanted to punch them. NO ONE understands unless they have been through the loss of their own child. Spouses, siblings, parents, those are different types of grief.

A somber watercolor I painted while I was in college.

From: Judy Unger

Subject: THE WORST PAIN

On Nov 27, 2012, Judy Unger wrote:

Dear Jane,

There are people who die from their broken heart every day – that wish to join your dead son is a powerful one.

When my 5-year-old son died, I searched for understanding and sought out other bereaved parents. I was about as “grief-centric” as they come, certain that my grief was the worst in the world. No one could feel my anguish – I could hear my little boy calling “Mommy!” and I kept seeing his cold corpse in the ground. I wanted to bring him a blanket. His dead face filled my days and nights. I could barely go on.

I felt that even if parents had lost a child, they couldn’t understand my pain. I didn’t think a miscarriage or a stillbirth could compare to my level of grief. I even would have told you that it was easier for you losing your adult son – you had more memories to treasure. I had to deal with a room full of clothes and toys that tormented me; reminders of my loss.

I say this because all of those beliefs translated to extreme isolation. It didn’t comfort me or help with my pain. My son died of a heart defect. When I befriended a woman whose daughter died from the flu, she told me that her loss was worse because she had no preparation and I did!

Gradually, I opened up to understanding that there is a lot of pain in this world. In my own lifetime, I have grappled with other forms of grief. I had surviving children with special needs, sick parents and currently I’m going through a divorce. When I remember that I’ve had worse pain with the death of my son in the past, it minimizes my feelings and doesn’t give me permission to feel.

It may be true that the loss of a child is THE WORST. But no one can truly know another persons’ pain.

I want you to heal. Your pain is unbearable. It is worse than anyone else’s because no one else loved your son as you did. I look forward to the day when you’ll know that having THE WORST pain is over. It won’t be as horrible. Hang in there.

Love Judy

–

© 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.

Posted in Grief Educational | Tagged "sandwich generation", child's death, compassionate friends, composing, coping with divorce, Daily Life, death, death of a child, death of a spouse, divorce, divorce after a long marriage, divorce after long marriage, divorce and separation, gray divorce, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, impending death, impending divorce, inspiration, loss, widow | 1 Comment

WHEN NOISE TURNED TO MUSIC

Posted on November 14, 2012 by Judy

When I was born, I was blessed with many gifts.

The blue link below plays a home recording:

–

When I was born, I was blessed with many gifts. I believe my greatest gifts were something that most people are born with and take for granted. I had five senses. I was aware how many people functioned without all five senses and felt fortunate to have my taste, sight, touch, smell and hearing.

As a child, I deeply appreciated my senses and was enchanted by the miracle of life. But as I grew older, I simply used my senses to navigate through the world in a practical way.

When I was younger, I savored life; tasting things I loved brought intense pleasure. As an adult, I didn’t really appreciate food because it became a replacement for affection. Eating helped to ease my stress and fill the empty spaces.

When I was younger, I used my eyesight to look closely at colors and details of nature; I marveled at the exquisite beauty of the world. Then I grew older and became too busy to notice much. My eyesight existed so I could see what was in front of me. I preferred not to see beauty because I felt sad that I never went to new places; it would depress me thinking of all the places I would never see.

When I was younger, I would look at clouds and distant landscapes and imagine what the sensation would be if I could actually touch them. As an adult, I didn’t want to remember touching or feeling. I did not have time to feel, because I was sad knowing how little I was touched. It was better not to feel pain, so I didn’t allow myself to feel anything.

When I was younger, I would inhale deeply and memories could be created and invoked with an aroma. When I grew older, I could not smell things well and I decided that was better. It eliminated bad odors and I preferred not to remember poignant past memories. Those memories made me sad because they reminded me of when I was happier.

When I was younger, I loved listening carefully to all the sounds around me. I delighted in the sounds of nature and heard music throughout my day. As an adult, sound was simply another word for noise. I hated much of the sound in my world and longed for peace and quiet. I did love the sound of laughter and especially loved my childrens’ voices. But unfortunately, a great deal of the time they were upset and it was not peaceful in our home.

It never occurred to me that my senses were something that would bless me again later in my life.

But it happened one day, when a single one of my senses elevated my life. It began with sound.

WHEN NOISE TURNED TO MUSIC . . .

Noise was dull; music was magical

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Noise added stress; music was peaceful

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Noise was irritating; music was uplifting

––

Noise made me empty; music filled me up

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Noise was numbing; music was captivating

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Noise caused confusion; music gave me clarity

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Noise caused a headache; music soothed my heartache

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When noise became music, my life completely transformed.

–

Gradually, each one of my other five senses were elevated.

But in order to elevate my other senses, I had to come to terms with avoiding pain and sad memories. I was required to make changes to my life.

And that’s exactly what I did.

–

Click the blue link below to read Part 2 of this story and hear the arrangement for Music Saved Me:

MUSIC SAVED ME-PART 2–

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, arranging music, Caregiving, changing your life, composing, composing music, creativity, Daily Life, escape through music, five senses, Friendship, heightened senses, Humor, humor children, humor daily life, improvement, improving life, inspiration, irregular heartbeat, life changing, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, music poetry, music therapy, musical arranging, musical composition, musical inspiration, noise, Noise irritation, noise vs. music, Ordinary Life, original music, original songs, singing, song arranging, songwriting, stress and effects, transforming your life, writing | Leave a comment

I OFTEN DREAMED OF WHAT COULD BE

Posted on November 9, 2012 by Judy

In this picture I am thinking, “Wow, my life is just beginning!”

“Crystal oceans sparkling on the sand”

I grew up on a tiny ship. Even though my father wore a captain’s hat, my mother steered the ship’s course. The ship only traveled in safe and familiar waters.

As a child, I scanned the vast horizon imagining an exciting world beyond. Although I dreamed of being an explorer, I was satisfied to examine minute details of my secure waters. Every creature and element of nature was exquisite for me. Life was beautiful and filled me with amazement.

I never questioned whether I would ever explore or leave. But one day, another ship came to take me away. The excitement of it had me dancing with joy. I dreamed I’d discover new places with my mate; together we would sail off to discover paradise.

It was not easy to leave my parents’ ship. Sometimes I found myself crying, but hid those tears from my mate.

On the very first day, he surprised me and gave me the captain’s hat and told me I would be steering. I quickly caught on and although it was exhausting, I imagined I could see paradise past the horizon. I began to miss the times when my parents ran things; but I knew it was time for me to grow up.

I focused on helping to provide fuel so that we could someday reach our paradise. But I noticed that I was no longer enthusiastic about exploring the world and taking pleasure in the beauty of nature anymore. It felt selfish to dream. I decided it was time for me to grow up even more, so I became a mother.

My world was no longer “out there,” and instead our children became my world. I celebrated the miracle of life through my childrens’ eyes. As a mother, I decided I had finally grown up. I devoted myself to doing whatever I could to make my childrens’ lives easier. It completely encompassed my existence and sometimes I was heartbroken by the challenges I faced. But with love and determination I watched miracles occur.

When one of our children died, my tears filled the ocean and I learned how precarious life was. Even though I was a captain, there were many times when I couldn’t steer the ship. But I never gave up hope despite many horrible storms where I had no control. It touched me deeply that my parents’ ship anchored nearby and they often came aboard to help. My mate was not happy about it and that saddened me. He did not understand my life anymore, but I accepted it. Life was hard enough. I had definitely stopped dreaming about finding paradise with him.

Although I never minded a tiny ship, it wasn’t long before my mate and I traded in our ship for a larger one. We did it several times and soon we even had two boats. Each time, I was proud of our wealth and it seemed absolutely wonderful for our growing family. I felt rich, because now I lived on a cruise ship! It was so much larger than the tiny boat I had grown up on.

–

Our ship was something my mate was very proud of. Unfortunately, it required a lot of fuel. I was sad that my mate didn’t enjoy our home on the cruise ship and I felt responsible when it fell into disrepair. I knew it was my fault because I hadn’t provided enough fuel. In the past, I was easily able to contribute for fuel and repairs. But for many years, I completely devoted myself to our children and there were few jobs for me now. I felt like I was a failure, and our ship continued to deteriorate to where it could barely circle even familiar waters. Soon, it was simply anchored in one spot.

–

As the years went by, sometimes I wondered where my life had gone. Because our children were usually at fault for breaking things, I was stressed trying to prevent things that made my mate so unhappy. He loved his children, but was tired from working so much. He was miserable, but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

One advantage of our large ship was that it held many hiding places for all of the family members. Everyone was able to escape to avoid being together. I worked tirelessly to try to fix all the problems in order to bring our family back together. I had thought I was a good mother, but our children were very dependent because I had done so many things for them.

I remembered when I had my parents to help me. I especially missed my mother’s comforting words. When we were close, it was easier for me to accept my situation. Now most of my energy went into helping to take care of both my parents. I knew they felt sorry for me and wished their little girl had never become a captain.

As a child, I loved life, but now I felt tired of life. For such a long time my only joy was seeing the world through my childrens’ eyes. Now, I did not know how to be happy. I was only happy if my family was happy and that was an impossible task.

It dawned on me that I was married to that cruise ship. I began to hate it and retreated to the empty recesses to hide. I realized that I was not really rich at all; I was a servant to everyone else on the ship.

I began to wish I wasn’t on the same boat with my mate anymore. I was used to never hearing anything complimentary and it was hard for me to imagine that I had ever danced joyfully with him. His unhappiness weighed upon me so heavily that sometimes when he came near, I even felt the desire to jump into the water. Often, he upset me so much that I felt ill. I tortured myself with guilt whenever I tried to think of a way to leave; I saw no escape.

Just when I had little hope left, I heard a voice. It told me to write about my feelings and to start singing again. As a child, writing and singing always made me feel better. But when I began to write and sing my true feelings, it was scary because I had no idea I was so sad.

It was when I sang my own words, that I discovered I could dream of paradise again. I started to scan the horizon and began to imagine living with joy for my remaining years. I imagined how peaceful it would be to not constantly hear how our ship was dirty and how our children were lazy and at fault for many broken things. I gathered my courage so I could leave the cruise ship and my mate. It was because of my writing and singing that I found my courage.

I knew he would miss me, even though I had been absent from him for such a long time. Because he had never been a captain, he would be overwhelmed. But I did not provide the fuel he wanted for our big ship, and hated to be a burden. Sometimes I wondered if he hated the larger ship, too. It took all of his energy and he had little joy.

–

The most difficult part was to tell my mate that I was leaving; he never believed I would. I suffered terribly until I released my secret. I hoped our children would eventually understand and I planned to remain close to them.

–

Just as I anticipated, my mate was devastated. Although he was stoic and hid his anger, his world was turned upside down. Our large ship would be sold and he was especially furious that he was required to give me extra fuel. He had always worked so hard to provide it and felt betrayed. In my mind, I hoped it would only be temporary until I found my own fuel.

I had never sailed alone, but was confident of my abilities as a captain because I had already steered such a large ship. When my father died, he gave me his tiny boat to restore and even gave me fuel for it. I was elated to discover that it was still seaworthy. It would be a relief not to steer a big ship anymore – I could easily maneuver and handle the boat from my childhood. My father loved me so much and he must have known that the tiny boat would become my lifeboat.

I became ready to set sail without a mate for the first time in my life. Two of my children joined me and my oldest child stayed behind to comfort my mate.

As I sailed into new waters, I realized I truly was a captain now. I was pleased that my children were learning new things on their own from me. Even though they weren’t happy about it at first, I wanted them to captain their own ships someday. I also began to learn how I didn’t need to be a slave to my childrens’ happiness.

For the first time in my life, I sailed into uncharted waters and didn’t worry about whether I’d have enough fuel. My simple boat could sail with the wind. I felt confident that my father would have been proud of me for sailing his boat. Although my mother was very sick and not aware of my life, I knew she was happy to see my joy. When she beamed at me, I remembered it was she who taught me about finding joy through a child’s eyes.

There was a time when I felt that most of my life was over. I had nothing to look forward to.

As the spray misted my face, I felt alive. Once again, I was seeing the world with youthful eyes.

The ocean was a deep blue and crystalline waves danced in the sunlight. Exquisite sandy beaches were visible ahead.

Life wasn’t over for me, it was just beginning . . .

Tagged Aging Parents, composing, coping with divorce, divorce, divorce and separation, end of a marriage, facing divorce after a long marriage, gray divorce, inspiration, loss, metaphor about ships, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, separation, starting a new life, writing | 1 Comment

CRYSTAL OCEANS – PART 2

Posted on November 9, 2012 by Judy

CRYSTAL OCEANS

Into your heart, I hoped I could reach

From the day I saw you, walking down that beach

Into your arms, I wanted to be

comforted, caressed, held securely

I wanted you, and I often dreamed of what could be

‘cause in your eyes I thought that I could see

crystal oceans sparkling on the sand

I’m longing for the warmth of your hand

Into your heart, I prayed for a chance

you’d get to know me; imagining romance

Into your mind, where memories reside

we’d write our story, dancing in the tide

I wanted you, and I often dreamed of what could be

‘cause in your eyes I thought that I could see

crystal oceans sparkling on the sand

I’m longing for the warmth of your hand

Into your heart, I searched for a way

Your smile melted me from that first day

I wanted you, and I often dreamed of what could be

‘cause in your eyes I thought that I could see

crystal oceans sparkling on the sand

I’m longing for the warmth of your hand

I wanted you, and I didn’t think you’d notice me

But then you smiled my way and you

took my hand, so it became the start

The moment you let me in your heart

–

I enjoy creating images for my blog and am sharing some ideas for my song “Crystal Oceans.”

I exited my stressful world and entered my magical world this past week. I didn’t even hesitate, even though it was impractical for me to indulge myself by spending money on arranging while in my current situation.

But music blesses my life and gives me a sense of wonderment. When I listen to my song, I am transported. It is probably very funny to see a middle-aged woman wearing an iPod, swinging her fists like a conductor and dancing as she walks. That’s me. My big smile often causes people to stop and I hear them say, “What are you listening to?”

Within only a few moments, I am reaching out to share my touching story of how my music keeps me dancing and coping.

It certainly is interesting how I’ve recently begun to work on music that is more melodic and uplifting. The melancholy music from the last six months has given way to waltzes and dances.

This recent recording of an instrumental for my song “Crystal Oceans” is one of my all-time favorites. It will be included in my second book and I look forward to singing a new vocal for it soon.

Clicking the blue links below plays my song:

–

CRYSTAL OCEANS INSTRUMENTAL

Message from a good friend:

Judy,

That is absolutely beautiful. I closed my eyes and was transported to another place. I could see myself walking along the cliffs while the water splashed below me. I was in a long flowing dress with the wind blowing my hair and dress out. I felt as though I was so happy and walking to meet my love . . . like in another time period . . . in another country . . . (That may sound silly, but it’s where it took me.) You are so blessed to have such talent!

Amazing what music can do! I must get a copy!!! I could see this song easily being used in a movie! Do you have words, vocals to it?

My reply:

Thank you so much! I love your message and feel those same emotions, too. It definitely transports me and elevates my life listening to this gorgeous arrangement. I could definitely picture a movie soundtrack for many of my songs. Who know?

Love you so much, Judy

This blue link is to my original story two years ago for this song:

#115 CRYSTAL OCEANS

Below are blue links that are clips from my very last lesson with Peaches Chrenko, regarding my song “Crystal Oceans”

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PEACHES LESSON #1 – 10/27/12 blog excerpt Crystal Oceans

PEACHES LESSON #2 – 10/27/12 blog excerpt Crystal Oceans

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This morning I posed on the same staircase where my brothers held me over fifty years ago. Not much in the building has changed. I notice the rod-iron was more ornate in the earlier picture.

In this picture I am saying, “Please, get me out of this dress!”

“The greatest trip of my entire life”

When I was younger, I dreamed a lot about life’s possibilities. Yet for decades I stopped dreaming, because life held many challenges for me and dreaming was a luxury I had little time for.

In February of 2010, I started my journey and quickly became delirious with joy when I discovered how writing unburdened my soul. From the moment I began writing my blog, I felt myself almost physically shooting out of my body; I originally described it as a transformation, but now I prefer to call it healing.

I believe that my ability to express myself honestly is something that makes me unique. I know it is rare.

After I began writing two and a half years ago, I became much more in touch with my feelings. Because I loved sharing my innermost thoughts, initially I felt joyful. But then I had to face the sadness that I truly did not have companionship other than my guitar and my computer.

After my father died this summer, I finally found the courage to end my marriage. It was agonizing for me to bravely make that change, because I knew my decision would affect my entire family.

I do not believe in regrets. None of my life was wasted because I found my courage. Some people never find their courage. Mine, came in tiny increments and infused my soul with the powerful knowledge that I had conquered fear.

So much happened to me in only two and a half years. As my journey continues, I scan the horizon with enthusiasm. I hear whispers from my inner voice telling me that this journey of mine is the greatest trip of my entire life. I look forward to many things. But if I live the rest of my life alone and in a simple fashion, I am peaceful.

Images flash before my eyes; I see myself singing and telling my stories to large audiences. I am beaming, and passionately sharing my soul with complete honesty.

Every day is a gold coin and I plan to spend each one wisely.

In this picture, I’m playing guitar while on vacation. I’m 19 years old and probably writing a song while my mother looks on in the background.

THE THREE SUMMERS

Three summers ago . . .

was the summer when I expanded a song I composed as a teenager named “Crystal Oceans.” For many years, family vacations were something I dreaded. In the space of a car and hotel room, I was usually overwhelmed by all the anger and fighting that went on. My children and husband were dependent on me for all the planning. I packed everything for my children and brought many food items to save money instead of eating out. For decades, I often brought my parents along on our vacations so they could give me respite. But now, I was depressed because I didn’t have my parents’ support anymore; I was supporting them.

I didn’t want to think about the fact that I needed a real vacation!

My complete purpose as a mother and wife was to make my children and my husband happy. It was an impossible task and left me depleted and frustrated. Rather than allow those feelings, I stuffed them down and pretended I was strong and capable. If things weren’t going well, I simply tried harder.

Three summers ago in 2010, my journey began a few months before summer and I had rediscovered the joy of playing my guitar again. I missed my parents, but felt like my healing had given me a lot more strength than before. So that summer, I planned a simple weekend vacation at an inexpensive motel that was several miles from the beach.

While my teenagers watched television and slept late in the morning, I fingerpicked my guitar in the bathroom. I was concentrating on expanding my song “Crystal Oceans.” It turned out that my music gave me calmness and I had many wonderful moments with my children on that vacation after all.

What was interesting was that I was completely disconnected from the romantic lyrics I wrote when I was younger. Developing my song was purely a mechanical exercise, of finding the best rhymes and melody for the new verses I wanted to add.

My heart was stone cold because I had given up on ever being held or caressed again in my life.

Two summers ago . . .

I didn’t want to plan a vacation because my parents were very sick. I did not have the reserves to deal with further stress or the expense, plus my feelings toward my husband bordered on hatred. I relented because my children counted on me to plan something; I felt guilty because I wasn’t spending as much time with them. The easiest vacation I could think of was to go to the same area as the year before.

It turned out that this vacation would be the last one we would ever take as a family.

Just like the year before, we had two adjacent hotel rooms. This time, I slept in one room with my daughter instead of my husband. It was a relief for me.

I also wrote a song while on vacation with my family. My song had lyrics so gut wrenching, that I suffered with guilt when I imagined sharing them. I was containing a horrible secret from my family and it made me ill inside.

Because even though my lyrics were truthful, I could not move forward to change my life.

I wasn’t ready. I was too afraid of the unknown.

This past summer . . .

–

was when my father died. I did nothing at all related to summer, but it would be a summer I’d never forget.

I was finally ready.

–