HELPING ME COPE, MY DREAM GIVES ME HOPE

When my oldest son was cleaning out my parents’ coop/apartment, he found this sign in my old bedroom. I’m glad he saved it for me. I am still smiling and posed for this in the patio of the place I plan to move to soon.

“Helping me cope, my dream gives me hope”

 

There was no question that this was probably one of the more difficult times in my life. It was certainly not the most difficult.

 

The word “temporary” became my mantra.

 

I was determined to stay positive and especially appreciated having my music as a blessing to uplift me. Our mindset definitely affects how we feel. For several days, I had been using so much self-talk that my mind was noisier than an auditorium. I had missed several important appointments, so it was clear that I was not “on the ball.” My mind was a chatterbox as my thoughts were all wrestling with each other.

 

I felt sad when I remembered how not long ago I looked forward to waking up and facing each day. But now, every morning when I opened my eyes I felt frustrated.

 

It was ironic that I had complained about my eyesight when I still had vision in my left eye while wearing a hard contact lens. The size discrepancy had bothered me between my new eye (after cataract surgery) and old one.

 

Well, this new discrepancy was so huge that it reminded me of when I had migraine headaches as a child.

 

I had chosen to be blind in my left eye that was awaiting cataract surgery.

 

I was able to replace the frustration I felt, with relief that this was not a migraine. It was TEMPORARY, but a month was a long time to exist this way. Yet I was determined to get through it.

 

I was very disappointed when my eye surgeon called and recommended postponing the second eye surgery. Only a few days before, I was told that my left eye had astigmatism and there would be an additional $1,000 charge to correct it. It was definitely time to have some chocolate.

 

The surgeon postponed things because he wanted to take new measurements of my left eye. Because I had worn a hard contact lens, it would take three weeks for my eye to return to its normal shape. This was a no-brainer – if I continued to wear a hard lens in order to see, then my surgery would only be further delayed. I immediately stopped wearing it, without even discussing that option with my doctor.

 

He said I could wear a soft lens instead, although with a prescription of over 1,400 diopters, a soft lens wouldn’t be that great. I would be contacted for an appointment. After several days, I called to find out why I hadn’t heard anything. It was so difficult to live this way! Finally, my call was returned and the soonest available appointment was ten days later, with no guarantee that lenses were in stock.

 

I was glad I had followed my gut instincts to move the process along. I could not afford to wait.

 

My children were angry with me. Over the past few days there had been several awful exchanges with each one of them, which left me emotionally exhausted. Seeing the pain that I had inflicted upon them became almost too much to bear. Although my family had sympathy for my eye situation, I had ruined their comfortable existence. I understood. I accepted it.

 

I was alone with my feelings. Sometimes I really missed my parents, but they would have worried about me far too much. My dad had died only four months ago. My mother might have sensed something was going on, but her dementia had worsened. When we went out for lunch, I openly discussed things in front of her with my brother. I was actually glad she was clueless and never imagined there would be a positive side to her dementia. Thankfully, she wasn’t grieving my father or worrying about her children.

 

I had wonderful friends who were all reaching out to me. It sure helped. But my home was not safe for me. It was filled with pain.

 

I did not handle conflict well. I began to imagine I was a young child who wanted to run away. The feeling of wanting to escape was actually scary because then I would hurt those I loved even more. That led to guilt, which was something I had been wrestling with over and over.

 

My self-worth was at its lowest point.

 

It was true that I didn’t have significant income, a regular job. I had passionately devoted myself to music and writing. My “noble cause” of inspiring other people meant little to my family. I was simply a menopausal and selfish middle-aged woman.

 

A few days earlier, my husband explained to me that every receipt would be examined and then he would reimburse me. It was extremely uncomfortable, but totally understandable. He opened his own checking account and transferred his paycheck to it. We no longer shared any credit cards.

 

I had gone from feeling anguish over hurting those I loved, to feeling angry. My anger had me imagining a new scenario. I would just leave everyone to manage without me. It would be less expensive not to lug food from Costco, nor to charge it on my very own charge card.

 

I realized that my anger had led me to a place of feeling vindictive.

 

Even though it felt like my heart was exploding with anger, I didn’t want to punish my children or my husband. It was totally understandable for them to be upset with the current situation. They were already hurting and I didn’t need to prove my worth to them.

 

The power of positive thinking definitely was needed now. I decided to replace the word “vindictive” with “strength.” This was an opportunity for me dig deep. Being half-blind did not make me helpless unless I allowed it.

 

And nothing was going to stop me from believing in my dream!

 

It was now time for me to open my own bank account.

 

My husband had told me to let him know whenever I would be taking money out. I had already discussed with him that I planned to open an account soon with $1,000. I called him as I was driving to the bank.

 

It was not a pleasant phone call and I had to wipe away tears before getting out of my car. Later on, he apologized to me.

 

I gathered my strength and went inside the bank. A nice young man came over to help me. I let him know that maybe I could receive an award for the most accounts. I had accounts with: my husband, my mother, my father, my children, my mother and father, and my older brother.

 

I told him I had eyesight issues, because I had to examine the paperwork within an inch of my left eye. Then I shared with him that the reason for this additional account was because I was going through a divorce. I could tell he felt sorry for me.

 

Another woman banker joined him for a moment. She looked over at me and said, “Did you know you have a great smile?” My eyes watered with her words – if she only knew what I was going through. I was amazed that I still could still smile.

 

When she left, I quietly confided to the young man that I could smile because of the music that filled my heart and elevated my life. When he asked what instrument I played, I told him I played an acoustic steel-string guitar. He said he loved guitar and looked forward to reading my blog and listening to my music. As I left the bank, I felt inspired. I had touched a stranger in the short time we spent together.

This picture brings back memories of my having a puppy named “Teddy.” I am standing in front of the coop apartment building where I grew up, which is still painted the exact same color! I lived there from the time I was an infant until I was married at 21. Now I will be going back there at the age of 52.

After that, I went into a home improvement warehouse and spent two hours going down a long list of items that I needed in order to move. I filled up my shopping cart with a toilet seat and window blinds; I ordered a new oven and looked at shower door options.

 

My step was swift and confident and suddenly I felt energy surging within me. I realized that the intense ache and pain I had suffered with earlier in the day had eased. It was definitely due to my using positive thinking and word replacement.

 

I chuckled with some of the imagery that had helped me. At one point, I imagined myself crying on the floor and opening a can of spinach like in a Popeye cartoon. With that spinach, I had suddenly jumped into action with determination to move forward.

I am in the same backyard as the picture that is at the top of this post. In this picture I am about 12-years-old.

After today, it will be the end of one week coping with two different eyes. I have only 19 more days to go until my second eye surgery.

 

Instead of being angry, I have decided that my husband actually did me a favor by pushing me to move out sooner and separate our money. I am not half blind. I am definitely strong and this is an opportunity for me to embrace it!

I am not imagining myself running away anymore. Instead, I am preparing myself to board a tiny ship that will sail off to a beautiful and unknown destination.

I love “tea-bag quotations.” I often save them and this one was very special for me. The word “tune” and “unknown” stand out for me.

© 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.

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I MAY BE LOW, BUT I’LL NEVER LET GO OF MY DREAM

The clock on my nightstand and how I see the world right now.

Clicking the blue links below will play audio clips. The top one is of my new guitar track. The one below is a voice lesson with my vocal coach, Peaches Chrenko where I discuss with her my soon-to-be-arranged song I’ve named “My Dream.”

MY DREAM – GUITAR INSTRUMENTAL by Judy Unger

PEACHES LESSON – 9/12/12 ABOUT MY DREAM

“The Tunnel”

It was dark and I acknowledged it. Even though I couldn’t see, I had a sense of how to navigate in the darkness. I maintained faith that I would not fall, and I ignored all pain.

 

There was every reason for me to stop and sit down. But if I did that, it would only take longer. I hated the tunnel, so I refused to stay still because moving forward was the only way out.

 

I kept telling myself to keep going and one day, I imagined I saw a pinhole of light. As it gradually became larger, I felt myself surge with energy – all of my faith had paid off; it wasn’t going to be much longer.

 

Suddenly, the light flickered and was gone. It turned out that my tunnel was far longer than I had thought. I would need to grope and stumble for a while longer. Now, I could not ignore the pain anymore and disappointment swelled and screamed inside of me. Tears began to pour from my eyes, because it felt like it was too difficult to keep going.

 

I fell down and cried. As I lay there, I was ashamed because I knew this was my choice. Although I had certainty that my future would be beautiful, I searched to find a purpose for this additional time in the tunnel. The darkness was pressing upon me and there were no answers I could think of. With sadness, I began to crawl forward again.

 

Suddenly, I felt myself magically lifted up. I felt clarity with the sudden brightness that was ahead of me. I strained to see what had begun to illuminate my tunnel.

 

It was my dream.

It glowed and embraced me. I closed my eyes and allowed it to propel me forward. I would get there. Music accompanied me in the darkness and all of my pain was soothed.

“The Blanket”

 

She remembered when love was like a blanket. In the beginning, they were both wrapped tightly and snuggled in it. Their faces brushed so closely together that she could feel his breath upon her cheek.

 

Over time, things began to slowly change. She realized that although they were covered with the blanket’s warmth, now their faces were turned away from each other. It was more comfortable that way. But even when they were not facing each other, their bodies still touched. They often rubbed each other’s toes with their feet.

 

With the passage of more time, they began to pull at the blanket in order to find comfort. While sleeping, they would both take turns grabbing at it. He would become upset if she pushed it off and lay on top of it. She would wake up and find herself cold without a blanket nearby; then she would pull it back.

 

Eventually, they both adjusted. But she realized that neither of them found the blanket to be comfortable anymore.

 

When it was time to leave, it felt to her as if all of the years of adjustment had caused the blanket to simply become a fabric. It required unraveling in order for her to leave.

 

She began to pull apart all of the threads. She cried for each and every one. He did not show her that he was crying, too.

 

When she pulled apart the last thread, she turned to leave. As she went through the door, she wrapped herself tightly with an imaginary blanket so the memory would sustain her.

 

In this picture I’m saying, “Hey, I’ll jump into anything – even if I have a flabby stomach!”

Email Update:

 

Today, I found out that my second eye surgery has been postponed. I also learned on Monday that I would have the additional cost of $1,000 in order to correct the astigmatism in that eye, which I have chosen to do. My eye surgeon has concerns about my astigmatism and wants to take new measurements for my left eye.

In order to allow for my eye to be correctly measured I cannot wear the hard contact lens that allows me to see for three weeks. I am also still adjusting to vision in my corrected eye. It will be another month before my eye surgery, so I am in limbo.

There are plenty of things I need to do as I prepare myself to move temporarily to my parents’ coop with two of my children. However, I’m not supposed to be lifting things or stressing myself. Emotionally, my living situation is fraught with awkwardness and excruciating sadness. 

Although I am very frustrated by my eye situation, I keep reminding myself that it is only temporary. I plan to continue to move forward and stay positive.

With love, Judy

 

In this baby picture I am saying, “Please don’t tell me I’m going to grow up to be a 52-year-old woman who has cataracts and performs with a guitar. Oh my god, and living in the same place where I grew up on top of that!”

Message from someone grieving on an Internet forum – my reply is in blue:

 

I listened to your song “Hang On,” Judy. It is beautiful and your voice is pure and true. But right now I hurt so badly that I can’t see this place that you sing about. Yet it is comforting to know that it exists. I want to jump over all that is to come and be there. I wish we could cheat grief of the agony it causes. I would gladly raise my hand and say, “Yes! I am a coward and I want to avoid this at all costs,” if it were offered. The pain is unbearable at times and I would jump to the head of that line. Thank you for your comforting words.

 

You are very expressive when you write your feelings. I am certain that will help you through this. I only wrote sporadically while I was in deep grief. Many years later, reading those words helped me to see my progress.

 

I have often said comparing grief is usually not comforting. Well, I am in that place now because divorce cannot compare at all to the grief over the loss of my child and most recently, my father. 

 

Yet at this moment, I am in a dark tunnel. I feel your words easily, about how I wish I could avoid this and jump ahead. Yesterday, I was told I couldn’t have my second eye repaired for another month (cataracts). At this moment, I have only one eye that sees, for which I am still adjusting. I am 52 years old and was surprised when I found out a few months ago that I had cataracts! It makes everything harder, because I need to move out due to my impending divorce. I still am sleeping in the same bed with my husband. We are civil after 31 years of marriage, but my house is filled with so much pain. I am very concerned about my children who all live at home, even though they are older (21, 18, and 15).

 

I always felt so lonely in my grief, because my husband didn’t connect with me. Losing my father four months ago has also left me feeling very isolated. But, I would never have wanted him to see me going through this; that’s why I waited until he died.

 

I’m certain in a few months I’ll get my strength back. On the other hand, it is hard for me to comfort you because I know you have a very long road ahead of you. I am being honest when I tell you this – there is no shorter road. Some people never take any road and suffer until they succumb to grief. You will not succumb.

 

My songs are there to help me. I just composed a new one, which I’ve named “My Dream.” I plan to record it soon. If I didn’t have a dream, I wouldn’t be able to cope nearly as well. Hanging on is also applicable for me right now. I must remind myself to hang on through this tough time. 

 

I wish we could both jump forward. Perhaps there is something to be gained from this time in pain. I believe it will allow me to become more inspirational and compassionate. I plan to continue to express my honest feelings.

 

I also believe that healing does occur with grief. It never can go back to what it was before – it simply changes and we adjust.

 

The thing that I want to share, which inspires me through this tough time, is that healing is not about simply surviving. It is about finding joy in life again. I want that for everyone suffering and it is possible. It was and will continue to be for me.

 

Love, Judy

Message from my editor, Carol:

Jeez, if you didn’t have bad luck, you wouldn’t have any luck at all!  I find that when I get into impossible conditions, if I can continually remind myself that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel — and hope it’s not a train!

 

I also find I can get through anything as long as I know it will come to an end. Keep strong and hang on till the end. Things will straighten out. There’s a great wine called Moscato and another one that I can’t remember, but it has a gold stripe on the bottom of the front label, help me immeasurably some days. After the craziness, relax and take a sip.

 

Hang tight.

 

Carol

 

You are so right about all this. How funny that I did some writing this morning for therapy and it was all about “the tunnel” and hanging on! I just wrote a new song I’ve named “My Dream” and honestly it is what keeps me going.

 

I just keep reminding myself that this is all temporary. Right now, I can barely see my computer with an eye patch on. I hate thinking of this for a month, but it will pass.

 

I’ll share my writing soon.

 

Love, J

Ps. I don’t drink wine, but chocolate is always comforting. 

 

There may be a compromise: some company is selling chocolate wine! I’ve seen it in both Ralphs and Vons. Give it a try. Have you tried Baily’s Irish Cream? It’s cream and chocolate to die for. (I’m not trying to turn you into an alcoholic; you have enough problems.)

 

Thanks, Carol. One day down, 23 more to go. I did it the hard way. I went through my day with blindness in one eye. I drove at night and closed my blind eye because everything was glaring at me.

 

I had to turn down a huge art job. My son’s school called me to inform me that a shooter at the school was apprehended. The nursing home called to tell me that my mother almost passed out and had a fever again. I received a singing job in two weeks. I recorded guitar tracks for my new song. I shopped for a new stove for the place I’m moving to. I met with someone I care about and offered my advocacy experience to help her with her child’s school district issues. I went to my son’s Back To School Night. I celebrated my daughter’s 19th birthday.

 

I did this all in one day with only one eye working. When I received a call about the shooter at my youngest son’s school I started laughing. They must have thought I was loony.

 

Judy

Ps. I did have chocolate today!

© 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.

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MY LIFE BECAME CLEAR – PART 2

Clicking the blue links to play audio:

Clear Guitar & Piano 5-15-18

Clear Acoustic 6-8-18

Clear Home Recording 4/24/16 Copyright 2016 by Judy Unger

Link to my first story about this song:

CLEAR

Copyright 2012 by Judy Unger

 

Not long ago I was a child, then a young girl,

now I’m even older

A woman so wise, I realize

Life went by quickly, I blinked my eyes

 

When I grew up, I became sad

Life beat me down; I felt broken

Though it may seem a little extreme

I turned my life around, to follow my dream

 

I carried on; I lived with heartache

I was so numb; I wasn’t awake

It all changed, I let go of fear

beautiful music I could hear

I opened my eyes, life became clear

 

As I grow old, I’ll keep my smile

All of my tears gave me compassion

I was asleep; my pain was so deep

I turned my life around; with joy I now weep

 I carried on, inside I wept

I cried for the losses I could not accept

It all changed, I let go of fear

beautiful music I could hear

I opened my eyes, life became clear

 

When my life ends, I won’t be afraid

I’m grateful for the gift I was given

I celebrate, it’s never too late

I turned my life around, got up off the ground

happiness I found

No reason to wait

This is one of the last pictures I have of my father. It was taken three days before he died. It is blurry and from my niece’s cellphone. It perfectly displays my father’s love toward my mother despite his suffering and her dementia.

A picture of my mother with her companion, Miriam. This was taken two years ago and she appears to me to be much sharper and alert. Dementia has ravaged her.

I remember when I was perhaps six or seven years old I could look up from my pillow and see the ceiling. I would connect the dots and sometimes I even imagined I saw images as I examined the random textures. Then one day, everything became blurry. By the time I was eleven, an eye doctor pronounced my near-sightedness to be so extreme that without glasses I was considered “legally blind.” I have a prescription of 1400 diopters and I rarely meet people with one larger than 1,000. Later on, I learned that the term “legally blind” only applied if one’s eyes were not considered correctable.

So at the age of eleven, I was given a choice. I could try an experimental regimen of eye drops and bifocal glasses or wear hard contact lenses. My parents decided to allow me to wear contacts. At that young age, I was an aberration and all the children in my elementary school were fascinated to know that I had “a piece of glass in my eye.” Everyone always wondered if my lenses could move behind my eye.

 

When I had my first cataract surgery last week, almost immediately I could see everything sharply in the distance. What especially amazed me was how large objects were around me. I kept reaching to touch things that appeared to be closer than before.

 

When I went for my post-op appointment the next day, my ophthalmologist explained that I was now seeing the world with a normal eye. He explained that a nearsighted eye was elongated; there was even a term for what he described, which I don’t remember. The gist was that my repaired eye saw everything 40% larger than my other eye.

 

That discrepancy left me dizzy and confused. My eyes were not working together and it would be three weeks before my next surgery. I also no longer had the advantage of having bifocal contact lenses. Only a few months earlier, I had gotten new contact llenses and each one was $250. Now I would need to have reading glasses handy. I had become just like my mother, who used to carry her reading glasses around her neck. Otherwise, I couldn’t see my own fingernails or read numbers on my cellphone.

 

Certainly, I was not about to complain or feel discouraged. I focused my entire aura upon acceptance and gratefulness that I had a treatable condition and these procedures would lead to improvement.

My mother is younger than I am now in this picture. The background has not changed at all within their old coop.

I tried to take it easy and began to miss the therapy of my occasional women’s doubles tennis game. For over 25 years I usually played twice a week. A good friend went shopping with me a few days after my surgery and helped lift the larger items into my cart. My children brought everything into the house.

 

It wasn’t easy for me to relinquish things.

 

My life with my “soon to be ex-husband” held challenges. Although things were civil, sometimes my breath was squeezed out of me, as I felt grief over the present circumstances. There was often an ominous undercurrent with his presence. Only the day before, as a joke I thought I could name my blog post “Sleeping with the Enemy.” I prayed that would not happen. The most awkward part was that for decades we never used our names and called each other “honey” instead. Every time he addressed me that way, my heart jumped with pain.

 

I knew I had to move, but I did not want to overwhelm myself with stress. I planned to give myself a few months because I felt it would be better for my children that way.

 

I needed to go shopping. I hadn’t been outside much for days and the two refrigerators in our home were both empty. My family required a lot of food. On top of that, I had invited my mother for lunch and I wanted to buy her something she loved, a kosher hot dog. I drove to my usual place, Costco.

 

In the near future, my mother would probably be put on a diet of pureed food. She disliked it and often didn’t eat much as a result. I wanted her to have some quality and pleasure in her life, yet at the same time there were now health concerns. Only a few weeks before, she had been treated for pneumonia. A pulmonologist wanted to order a swallow test because there were concerns that she was aspirating her food and that was causing her to have a severe cough.

 

This was a dilemma for me. For her to have the swallow test was possibly traumatic. I thought that perhaps I should just allow for pureed food and skip the test. I decided to allow for the swallow test and felt stress surrounding making this decision.

 

I looked forward to my mother’s visit for lunch. Her companion, Miriam, was now my close friend. Miriam was very sympathetic to my situation, as she was dealing with something similar in her own life.

 

As I pushed my cart toward my car, I began to feel sorry for myself. I realized that I had overdid it; my cart was hard to push and packed as it usually was. A large package of paper towels fell to the ground, and an older man reached down to pick it up for me. I almost cried as I thanked him for helping me. Before I put things it my car, I paused and took a picture of the shopping cart.

 

I told myself that I would only carry in the perishable items. Unfortunately, it was too hot in my garage to leave the two, large watermelons in my car. I brought most everything into my house and considered it my exercise. Instead of tennis, I was carrying lots of groceries! I would ask Miriam or one of my children to help me with the rest.

 

My phone rang. It was Miriam and she informed me that she and my mother would not be joining me for lunch. My mom was ill and coughing terribly. She also had a fever.

 

I finished putting the last item into the refrigerator and called the nursing home. They told me that blood tests had been ordered for my mother, but she refused to allow any blood to be drawn. She tried to bite the technician. With dementia, everything was so much harder!

 

I sat alone and ate a small slice of pizza, which was something I normally avoided. I noticed that I could hardly taste it.

 

I went into my bedroom and lay in my bed. I could hear my most recent song composition “My Dream” in my mind. I closed my eyes and softly hummed to myself. Within seconds, my music was soothing my aching heart. I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling; I realized that with my “new” eye it was clear and sharp.

It looked so close that I reached my arm up imagining I could touch it.

I am with my mother in this picture taken over 25 years ago.

I love this picture, where I’m wearing a bikini. I guess I could consider that “my dream,” too!

Message from a friend (My words are in blue):

I am so proud of you. I really admire your strength. I’ll keep praying for you. I wish I had your courage. I talked to an attorney several months ago and she wanted $15,000 up front for a retainer. My husband and I haven’t been intimate in about 5 years. I don’t even feel like we’re married. I get more affection from the 2 dogs.

 

You’re right. It’s hard sleeping in the same bed with someone who’s distant from you. If I want to eat out or go to the movies, I have to go with a girlfriend or my kids. 

 

Honestly, you might want to sell your house – take half that equity and leave. You could buy a small condo and live a new life, too.

 

I am hoping to inspire people to have courage. I have no idea what my future will be, but staying in a sad situation is hopeless. I deserve better and so do you.

 

Thanks for the inspiration, Judy. I’ll be 60 years old next year, but feel like 80 today!

 

Our thoughts actually can be reframed. Instead of telling yourself you feel like 80, try telling yourself you feel like 40. Do nice things for yourself and watch how you will feel much younger. You could live many more years. No reason to waste your life because of fear. The unknown can’t be worse than the known.

 

Love, Judy

My friend, Susan, sent me this beautiful card. I am blessed to have many wonderful friends.

 

Excerpt from card:

 

“What you have been going through would challenge the strongest of people. Both dealing with an impending divorce, plus your dear father’s passing is a double whammy. Yet your strength and resilience is truly remarkable. Instead of shutting down in deep despair, your creativity flourishes with new songs such as With Me.”

In this picture, I was probably about three years old. I still can remember the feeling of being held. That feeling keeps me going.

© 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.

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I WAIT BEHIND A CURTAIN

Just for fun I thought I’d grab a picture from my high school days. I want those eyes back! Where did my eyebrows go?

After I came home from my first cataract surgery, my oldest son (21) kept examining my eyes. He told me he wanted to take a picture so I could see the difference. My repaired eye is on the left. It’s quite dilated!

Soon, I hope the curtain of blurriness will lift after my cataract issues are resolved. But the true meaning behind my post title is my dream of stepping out from behind a curtain onto a stage. The dream that I carry is that someday I will become well-known in my pursuit of helping people suffering with grief or other challenges in their lives. I believe I will be embraced by many people for my honesty. I look forward to singing with joy and spreading my message of hope.

 

My dream is most certainly keeping me going during a very difficult time in my life.

I clearly remember my birthday party when I turned four. In this picture, I’m playing “Pin the Tail on the Donkey.” Lately, I feel like I’ve been walking around with a blindfold and a pin!

I am writing for my blog because I was told to “take it easy” for the next few days. Therefore, as a respite I am going to enjoy the therapy of writing an update about my life.

 

Saying “I have a lot going on” would be an understatement. However, having a lot of challenges in my life certainly is familiar for me. It’s probably easiest for me to list things in black and white. 

 

MY GOOD LIST:

1.    My youngest son started attending a new high school and he is doing spectacularly well.

2.     I made it through my first cataract surgery on my right eye. I get to say goodbye to my rose-colored glasses, which I purchased only three months ago. As I type this, even though things are a little blurry, I am elated at the amazing improvement.

3.    I wrote song lyrics to go with my beautiful instrumental from last week. My song is called “My Dream” and it is helping me so much.

4.     I am continually reminded that I am cared about by many wonderful friends and family members.

5.     My audio book is growing closer to completion. It is now completely recorded, and 75% of it has been closely edited. My song vocals are also almost finalized.

6.     Other than my eyesight issues, I AM HEALTHY!

 

MY BAD LIST:

1.  Two lawyers received large checks (Divorce retainers) from my husband and I this week. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad, as now I am relieved of negotiating with my husband. Both of us have told each other that we’ll let our lawyers figure it out. Sadly, that costs a lot of money!

2.     I am very indecisive about my plans on where I’ll be moving.

3.    The nursing home where my mother lives called to inform me that my father owes $6,000 in unpaid medical bills (The first I heard since he died in May). As retaliation, my mother’s pharmacy coverage is not in effect anymore, which could result in her eviction. This is a lot of stress, but I am going to figure it out somehow. A mistake was made and this is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.

4.   I am feeling very overweight and heavy. I want to get back to dancing through my days again. I know I will.

 

 

Before having my cataract procedure, I closed my eyes and listened to my iPod. My newest song captivated me and I was enjoying a recording I had made the day before in my closet. As I was singing the lyrics of, “I wait behind a curtain,” suddenly the doctor drew the curtain back in front of me. The irony of that gave me a huge smile.

 

I received wonderful care and continued to smile throughout the procedure.

 

As the cataract on my eye was removed and a new lens implanted, I was wide-awake with my eye staring open. A kaleidoscope of colors intermingled with delicate veins flashed before me. The surgeon explained what he was doing while he tugged at my eyeball. I did not feel anything and was totally relaxed.

 

My father’s voice was clearly in my mind because he loved this eye surgeon very much. I’ll never forget how both my father and mother were thrilled with the results of their cataract surgeries.

Later in the evening, the surgeon left me a message on my cell phone. He said, “I’m just checking on my best patient ever.”

 

That was his joke to me because I told him I would be “the best patient he ever had” before the operation. As I listened to his message, I felt my father hugging me.

I am sharing more pictures I recently found of the many family vacations I experienced as a child.

I’ve always hated wearing glasses and found a picture of myself wearing them when I was younger. I started wearing hard contact lenses at the age of 11 because of my severe myopia. In this picture, my parents had just come home from a trip to Israel – my mother’s first time on an airplane. My grandmother, who is next to me, stayed with my brother’s and I for several weeks.

Love these checkerboard pants I used to where!

 

 

“You will emerge”

 

My message to a grief-stricken woman on a grief forum (in blue):

 

At this juncture of you life, words offer little comfort. I wrote to you recently and told you how well I remember the pain after almost 20 years. However, I need to clarify something. Remembering the pain is quite different from suffering with it.

 

You are experiencing an “amputation of your soul.” When one has their soul amputated, it is just that. A piece will always be missing. It is not visible, and eventually you will heal and adjust. Right now, blood is pouring out of your heart and soul without any stopping.

 

I questioned God, too. You will be doing that a lot, I’m certain.

 

That process is probably the most isolating thing a human can face. No one can help you. Not your husband or your son or anyone. I remember how I searched for someone to understand; my husband who was grieving did not want to ever talk about it. I looked for others who had lost a child, and although it helped in some ways, it truly didn’t take away my pain. They did not lose my beloved son, Jason. He was my first child and he lived for 5 years with a congenital heart defect. He was delicate and sick. I poured my heart and soul into his care. When he died, I didn’t know where to put my energy and devotion. I had a two-year-old son at that time that was quite challenging. When Jason died, my world was filled with his constant screaming.

 

The reason I am writing to you is to offer you hope. This horrible process you are going through will continue. I wish I could tell you that it will magically end, but it doesn’t. It continues forever. What will stop is the agonizing pain. It changes. It becomes tears of joy at remembering beautiful parts of your son’s life. And at some point, you will laugh and smile again. For a while, you might even feel guilty about it – thinking that you love him less because you are laughing instead of sobbing. Please don’t.

 

Trust me, you will go on and you will help others because you are a good writer. Grief is something very few people want to talk about. It is something hidden, and most people want to pretend it isn’t there. How simple it would be if we could just “get on with our life.” The problem is, life continues to go on for everyone and everything around us. The black hole of grief swallows us and there are many people that never emerge. They drown themselves in drugs and alcohol and die.

 

You will emerge. Just keep hanging in there.

 

Love, Judy

Judy, thank you for your words of comfort. I wonder if I am going to be able to survive this. I spent most of the day in bed. That was the first time I felt so debilitated and helpless. I don’t want to have that ever happen again and I know it will and it scares me because I have just started this journey. I was no good to anyone. I couldn’t help my son or my husband because I couldn’t help myself. My soul was screaming out for my son and I just can’t understand why a God I believe in, wants me to suffer so much agony. We are not evil people. We have not hurt anyone. Why is the God I believe in, a merciful God, doing this to us? No answers. No comfort.

© 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.

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