I LOOK AT THE CLOUDS

Posted on July 30, 2012 by Judy

My castle in the clouds – painted when I was 18.

An illustration from a book I created when I was 8 years old.

Link to performances, stories, lyrics and recordings: WITH ME

 

The title of this post is related to clouds and is a lyric line from my song “With Me.” I often look up into the sky and imagine my father is watching me from the clouds.

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Lately, I look there and am saddened by my cloudy vision. Blurred is probably a more accurate description. I’ve decided it is time for me to write an update regarding my vision. In May, I had new glasses made and could not see out of them very well. I brought them back to the optometrist and discovered that within one month, my eyes had changed.

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I had a lot of tests done and it was determined that my visual problem was most likely due to cataracts. I had cataracts on both of my eyes and they had even progressed between May and July. I have been extremely nearsighted my whole life, and was told that might have something to do with this problem. I’m 52 years old, and always thought that cataracts happened slowly and when a person was older. Although I am still looking to move, this has slowed me down.

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I initially blamed myself; I thought it was because of all of the years that I didn’t wear sunglasses while playing tennis. The ophthalmologist told me that it was unlikely and that made me feel better.

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The timing of all of this took me by surprise. I have not yet gotten important information about what medical insurance I will have once I’m divorced. It was better this happened now while I had reasonable and excellent medical coverage.

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The first surgery for one eye is scheduled a month from now. The second eye surgery will be performed two weeks after that. Until then, I have to wear glasses so that accurate measurements can be taken. I’ve worn hard contact lenses since the age of 11 and it is incomprehensible to me that I will have different vision after this correction. The doctor told me not to expect it to be as good as wearing my lenses.

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I’m just praying it will be better than what I’ve been seeing these days. I have always appreciated color and clarity in the world around me. I have learned to live with ugly floaters that appeared when I was in my 30’s. I was told that after cataract surgery they might even be more noticeable.

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Because I am so passionate about writing and music, I have focused my energy upon how grateful I am to have the ability to type and hear. That is enough for me, even if I don’t have best vision. I can still blog!

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In this picture, I am close to the age of 8. That is when I wrote the book shared  in this post.

Now I want to share what is truly my very first book. It even has illustrations! This book was written when I was eight years old.

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The cover of my book; there wasn’t a title.

I have transcribed my own writing in order to make it easier to read. I’ve also corrected some spelling and grammar. Under the scanned images, there are some comments.

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Just to show how the book actually looked. With my Photoshop skills, I created scans that are far easier to read. There are many red corrections, and although I thought spelling was my best subject, there were still some mistakes.

May 10, 1968

Beauty is nature and its surroundings. What I mean by that is when you go to a park – when you look around it is sometimes beauty.

Beauty can also be a feeling – when you are happy. No one in the world has the same beauty as you. Sound is another thing of beauty. When you look at something, it may give you a little feeling of beauty. Like a grasshopper, it may not look pretty, but it has a kind heart.

So beauty can actually be sound, shape, feeling and nature.

I love what I wrote. I used to play a lot with grasshoppers when I was little. I wish I had a kinder heart – those creatures had legs that fell off when I played with them!

Feb. 5, 1968

I am red. I am a person. I like to ride my bike to school. I also like arithmetic. I like my teacher, too. Sometimes we have music. I like to be a person. Today, I had a good day in school. I like my classroom.

This was the book’s first entry. I was totally kissing up to my teacher and writing exactly what I thought she wanted to hear. I did perk up to see the word “music” – and sad that I didn’t write anything more about it. I guess I still like to be a person. I never liked arithmetic!

Feb. 15, 1968

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If I were President Johnson, I would stop the war. I would give four recesses in school. I would also go to the store and buy all the candy I wanted. I could play in the snow all I wanted to. That would sure be fun. I would let my mom be governor. I would like to be president.

This entry is the beginning of finding out that I used food for comfort way back when I was a young child. All the candy I wanted wouldn’t have been good for me. Why only 4 recesses in school, though? I no longer want to be president – though I’d like to meet him someday.

March 20, 1968

The Ceiling

In Room 15, there are people on the ceiling. I believe they are invisible. I think they may be clouds of dust in forms as men. I can believe they are very tiny. The little holes in the ceiling must be their home. At night, I guess, they go to sleep. In school, they watch us every minute. I hope they watch us do spelling, because it is my best subject.

The only time they don’t watch us is at recess. I wonder what they eat. They must have something to eat, I guess. At recess, they must sneak down and nibble at our plants. Since they’re so small, I’ll give them a name called Dust Men.

Believe it or not, I remember those holes in the ceiling well. Then one day, my vision changed as a child and I couldn’t see them anymore. I remember dreaming about those “Dustmen.” Food was important because I worried about what they would eat!

April 4, 1968

Happiness is going to the park and having a picnic on a nice day.

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Believe it or not, this made me sad. I haven’t gone on a picnic in so long. I miss the outdoors and must plan something soon.

A linolium print of a forest I made when I had a printmaking class in college.

April 16, 1968

If I had one wish, I would think of the best wish I could think of. Another thing, I’d better watch what songs I sing. Because if I sing a song like “I Wish I Were an Oscar Meyer Weiner” – you know what would happen.

 

The best wish I could think of would be . . . hiccup! Whoops. Now I forgot, what I was talking about. Oh yeah, the best wish I could think of is if THE WORLD WAS MADE OF CANDY. Hiccup! Oh, I guess I’d better get a drink of water. Whoops, I forgot something. Excuse me – as I was talking about I said that if I had one wish – that the world was made of candy. I meant by that the streets were made of licorice, housed of cake, oceans of chocolate milk and many other things. So if I had one wish, this is what I would wish for.

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Sigh, another one about candy. Some things never change. Now that I’m older, I wish that candy never would make me fat or rot my teeth. I did not know how to spell “whoops.”

April 19, 1968

We let go of a balloon. I wonder where it went? It probably went higher than the clouds. The reason you can’t se it, is because it went into the clouds. Maybe it went to the North Pole. It probably got stuck on an airplane to go there. It must have been fun on the way through the clouds. It’s very lucky, because it has air to breathe. The reason your balloon gets smaller is because it breathes. Maybe it went into space.

I didn’t create many paintings with clouds, but I appreciated other illustrator’s paintings of cloudy skies very much. I often studied clouds to see the many colors I could find in them. I wanted to be a balloon; I even imagined they breathed.

May 16, 1968

If I could fly across the sky, I would wake up early in the morning and take a trip far up into space, and when I came back, we will still be studying space. I will visit each and every planet. Then when I came back to earth, I would know most about space. 

Another thing is, when my mother says no more cookies, I’ll blackmail her. I’ll go away again. Then she will give me some more cookies. Yum! Yum! Yummy!

I moved on from candy to cookies – and even to blackmail in order to get them. It was hopeless! Food would never satisfy me enough. I’m amazed I don’t weigh 300 pounds! I always imagined I could fly when I was young.

A colored pencil illustration of space done while I was in college.

I’m just throwing this picture in because my impish expression is cute. I’m older here – perhaps 10 or 11 years old.

© 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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WHERE I’M GOING

Posted on July 28, 2012 by Judy

My mother’s 87th birthday is on Sunday. I marvel at her ability to smile in spite of her challenges. She is my inspiration.

Link to performances, stories, lyrics and recordings: WITH ME

 

I tried to live in the present, but it was only in a physical sense. I often felt overwhelmed. My mind continually dreamed about the future – to a time when my present challenges would be behind me. But while I was dreaming, memories and reminders of my former life often shocked me out of my reverie. Who was I? Where was I going? Would I really be OK?

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But doubt was always replaced by the vision of my castle. The barren landscape behind me encompassed miles and miles. My castle was much closer now and no longer in the distance; yet I could see that the terrain ahead of me was very steep. Perhaps there wasn’t nearly as much distance to cover, but it required the ability to climb.

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As I moved forward, my body slowed and it felt as if I were almost crawling instead of walking. The heaviness within me made it quite difficult to move. Although I was determined, I felt terrible pain and wondered what it would take for me to find my strength to get there.

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I realized that determination wasn’t enough.

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castle-walkway.jpg

I told my hypnotherapist, Connie that I wasn’t feeling well physically and emotionally; I was eating far too much. Hypnosis offered me an opportunity to do what was known as “discovery work,” and I was ready.

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I entered a deep hypnotic trance, and felt my body relax. In the distance, I heard Connie’s voice asking me to find an image that represented my pain. Without hesitation I replied, “A knife.” Then she asked me to describe my knife.

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I said, “It has a black handle and a serrated blade. I feel it stabbing me in my stomach and eviscerating my gut.” With those words, I could almost feel the stomach pain that often gripped me; cramps that took my breath away and caused me to double over in agony. I was pleased that I had found a way to describe my pain so clearly.

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Then she said, Now, I’d like you to find another image. Can you find an image that could counter this knife and alleviate your pain?”

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I floated into the peaceful recesses of my mind and searched for something that would comfort and protect me. I heard music playing softly, but after many minutes there wasn’t a single image I could visualize.

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I said to Connie, “I can’t seem to find anything to stop that knife.” The thought occurred to me that I was choosing to feel pain and didn’t want it to stop. But then I said, “Wait – I feel something. But it isn’t an image. I’m feeling a breeze. It’s just like in my song “Beside Me Always” – it’s wrapping around me and protecting me. The breeze represents the love I remember from when I was a child. It also reminds me of the love from my child, Jason.”

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Connie wanted me to have my comforting image speak to the knife. She said, “ Ask the knife why it is here.”

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In my calmness, I looked for an answer and it did not come easily. I said hesitantly, “The knife will not tell me. It says it has always been with me. It is there to remind me about pain and loss.”

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Even while in a hypnotic trance, I understood what my words meant. I was grieving, and pain was familiar.

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It was very clear that the knife was simply not going to go away.

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Connie said, “Allow an image to form that represents something that could protect you and help ease your pain.”

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A sad realization came over me, as I answered, “My comforting breeze is really not effective; I picked an image that cannot really help me! The knife just cuts right through the air. The breeze is just that – it is empty air.”

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Tears began to roll swiftly down my cheeks. The breeze was my parents’ love, and Jason’s love. Why wasn’t their love strong enough to counter the pain my knife was inflicting upon me? Did I want to suffer?

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I spoke again choosing my words carefully. “Maybe my parents’ love cannot help me because it doesn’t feel unconditional. I grew up with many strong beliefs. Divorcing represents my failure to be committed to the ideal of marriage.”

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My tears began to pour as I said, “Although she would still love me, I can feel my mother’s disappointment.”

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And then I added, “Jason loves me, but I am hurting his papa!”

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In the darkness of hypnosis, I felt emotional pain choking my every breath. With my honest admission, I had released so much. My father’s love began to envelop me. He knew of my decision before he died. Remembering his acceptance of it, infused me with strength.

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I drifted back into peacefulness as I heard Connie counting slowly. I awakened and blinked; my eyelashes were wet and I was drained.

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Connie explained that I obviously had a lot of resistance to letting go of my pain. I knew she was right.

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I wondered when I would stop punishing myself.

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I found many new pictures of Jason in my parents’ coop.

A beautiful picture of my mother with Jason.

My admission of marital unhappiness began a year ago. I wrote a song, which I titled “The Unknown.” It was something I was ready to face. If my song were named “The Known,” it would have been a far sadder song. The known was empty and lonely, and my future looked bleak.

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Writing my blog, and rediscovering my songs certainly led me to a place of joy. But overnight, I woke up to discover that I was in a place desolate of affection, connection and contact. What I could not fathom was how I had accepted it for so long. With that realization, my joy began to fade. I was determined that I was not going back to Zombieland, and coped with my circumstances by immersing myself in writing and music to help me. It most certainly did.

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In the past, I had watched both my brothers move back in with my parents while they went through their divorces. I always knew that if I ever had a problem, my parents would certainly take me back in. I hoped they would support my decision, even if they were disappointed because I had initiated it.

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So there was great irony when it dawned on me – that I could live in my parents’ coop apartment until I decided my future plans.

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My youngest son had recently been accepted into a new school that was only a few blocks from the coop. He could walk there and it would be an excellent location for us to live. He would stay with me while attending school and be with my husband on the weekends. My daughter planned to live with me and attend a community college nearby. My oldest son would stay with my husband.

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Jason is standing near my parents’ bed. I have so many memories of visiting my parents with my children. I will be sleeping in the bed that is next to Jason in the picture above.

After my hypnotherapy session, my stomach issues eased up. No longer keeping a secret from my husband about my marital unhappiness was a relief. At times, it was awkward for us to be sleeping in the same bed, but less so for me. That was because I had lived inside my mind for a year; now he and I were at least communicating as we discussed our future plans.

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After my hypnotherapy session, my stomach issues eased up. No longer keeping a secret from my husband about my marital unhappiness was a relief. At times, it was awkward for us to be sleeping in the same bed, but less so for me. That was because I had lived inside my mind for a year; now he and I were at least communicating as we discussed our future plans.

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Preparing the apartment to be livable required money and attention. My husband was willing to help me and we were together in the empty apartment on several occasions. There was a pervasive sadness, as both of us recounted memories of being there together when my parents were healthy and vital. I appreciated that he helped me; he fixed the air conditioner and installed a kitchen light fixture. I also planned to help him in any way I could and was both relieved and grateful that our separation was amicable.

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This is a drawing I made of Jerusalem when I was 13. My oldest son, who is 21, just returned from a ten-day trip to Israel. He had a wonderful time and it eased some of his grief over his grandfather’s death.

After filling eight dumpsters due to my father’s hoarding, I was left with many boxes of memorabilia. Reminders of my childhood brought my father back to me. I felt him with me as I chuckled over priceless piles of artwork and writing he had saved.

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I celebrated my mother’s birthday at a party held by her nursing home. Most of the time now, she was completely unaware of everything going on around her. But even with her advancing dementia, she still smiled with love for me whenever I put my face close to hers.

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My parents have always been there for me and continue to be. I am also fortunate that my two older brothers have been supportive. Living in the apartment where I grew up is such an interesting prospect. There is no question that I feel the presence of both my parents there.

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It will probably be several months before I am settled. My plan is to slowly fix it up and prepare myself to move. I have a lot of things that are hard to let go of. For example, I cannot bring my art studio furniture with me and no longer plan to paint anymore.

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In this picture I am saying, “WOW!” I always loved receiving a new box of crayons for my birthday. As a child – and as an artist, there was nothing more exciting for me than that. I couldn’t wait to try out all the colors!

My parents were married 61 years and with my dad’s illness and my mother’s dementia – their closeness faded away. It was such a sad process to watch. Finding memorabilia from the past was helpful for me. I decided that it was better to focus on the beautiful aspects of their marriage, rather than on the sadder ending.

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I am also doing that with my own marriage. The memory of love is something that I never want to lose.

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I will end this post by sharing some touching cards my father wrote to my mother, as well as photos of my parents when they were younger.

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I was embarrassed to see my father’s words “boobie-doll.” But then, I remember him calling my mother that so endearingly.

I love his words “I will pay to stick a diamond in your ring.”

This card sounds a lot like my brother when it came to tax season! My father was probably helping him at that time.

Dearest, 35 years seems so short! I could go another 35 years. But if I die tomorrow, I will die happy, because you have given me a fulfilled life. But enough talk of dying. Let’s go on another vacation – just you and me on a honeymoon.
Your number 1 booster, Lee

This is the original page from an old photo album. The photos were marred by yellowed tape and scanning improved them significantly. The captions were priceless!

I love my mother’s “pigtails” in this picture.

My mother and her sister – I love my mother’s shy expression in this picture.

I treasure this picture of my father. He was such an energetic man throughout his life. My mother used to tell me he always ran instead of walked. I hated to see how deeply he suffered when he could not move from his wheelchair toward the end of his life.

This is one of my favorite pictures of my mother when she was young.

© 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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EMPTY SPACES

Posted on July 15, 2012 by Judy

 “The first step . . .”

I was burning. I had accidentally set the fire, and as a result, I now had to flee. There was no time left to contemplate how I was lost anymore. Intense pain filled my soul and I had to save myself; I could not rescue anyone. With my eyes closed, I charged forward and ignored the pain.

 

Relief filled my body as the heat dissipated. I was amazed to discover that I had covered miles and miles of distance. For such a long time, I was circling an endless meadow.

 

The smoke began to clear away, and a castle became visible in the distance. It wasn’t far away anymore. I was overcome with awe as I took in its breathtaking beauty.

 

I looked behind me to see a barren landscape. I couldn’t believe I had survived something so scary. There was no going back, and I would only have memories of my journey. But I did not feel doubtful, and I was stronger than before.

 

I never wanted to hurt those I loved. They were worried about me, even if they were angry and blamed me for the fire. My bravery would allow them to follow their own path. I was confident that one day, we would all come together again. Without the fire, they might have stayed forever in an empty meadow.

 

Leaving the past behind was difficult. The present held unbelievable struggles. But now a beautiful future was possible. I was certain that I would reach my castle. And my husband and children would find their own castles, too.

 

I took the first step so that they could follow me.

 

“Judy of the Past, Present and Future”

 

I had no idea when I began my writing journey where it would go. But from the beginning, I had a clear vision that it was going to take me to places I could never have imagined.

 

I have been living in an eerie dimension where I am able to visualize my past, present and future simultaneously.

 

For a long time, I have been writing in parables, because I could not truly share what has been going on in my life. I wrote “The First Step” two weeks ago, while I was anguished about my circumstances. I wrote the poem titled “Empty Spaces” five months before that and it became the basis for my song named “The Door.”

 

There has always been an amazing amount of prophecy with the songs I’ve written; I consider them my life’s script. I often hear a voice telling me what to write and I’ve always wondered whose voice I am hearing. Now I’ve decided that voice is from “Judy of the Future.” In high school, I often wrote to her in my diary and once I was married that stopped.

 

Lately, she has been speaking to me.

 

My health has been affected by a tremendous amount of stress in my life. Challenges are familiar for me and I’ve had my share.

 

However, there are challenges that are thrown at us and then there are hurdles that result from making a major decision; change is something that can be so difficult that most humans avoid it at any cost.

 

There is a high price, though, for not being willing to change. What is familiar and painful simply stays that way and I believe life is too short to accept that!

 

We can only change ourselves and I have never felt the desire to change someone else to satisfy my needs. I’ve spent decades trying to make everyone around me happy, and at the age of 52 – well, I’ve decided that I have fulfilled my responsibilities.

 

I am living with the pain of following through to change my life completely. I never expected I would do this. After 31 years of marriage, I told my husband that I wanted a divorce.

 

As I witness the intense suffering of both my husband and my children, I have not felt any wavering that I have made the right decision.

We didn't fight

I am good at making lists. On my list of reasons to stay married – there was medical insurance to consider. At the moment, I cannot see well. I still went ahead and made my decision anyway. Judy of the Future kept telling me that everything would be ok.

I was relieved to find out last night, that the results from an MRI of my brain were normal. I have faith that I am going to be fine. It seems likely that my eye problem could be the result of cataracts, and I will have further tests to confirm if that is indeed the problem.

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My Parents, Norm & I in Yosemite

A family vacation to Yosemite – paradise when I was a child, because I didn’t have to worry about anything.

Over the past two years, I was heartbroken as I watched both my mother and father decline. They have disappeared from my life (my mother is still alive, but her dementia has reduced her to a child), but with their absence I have adapted.

I believe in what I am doing and have learned to be my own best friend.

As long as I can continue to write and compose music, my joy will prevail. Those two things are like breathing for me. Unfortunately, I was unable to continue to write while in my marriage. I was sad and lonely, and even though I was financially free to pursue what I loved – I felt I couldn’t do it anymore.

I decided that I prefer to live simply and even struggle financially, in order to be able to express myself honestly.

I am hoping that my children will understand and adjust in time. Because they are older, I am very fortunate. I am also grateful for the many resources available to me at this stage in my life. As I clean out my parents’ coop, I have made a decision to live there temporarily. My parents are still there for me – after all.

There are no regrets for me about staying in my marriage too long. I was an advocate for my children and a caregiver to my parents. It was impossible for me to consider leaving my marriage with all that I was dealing with. Although I was miserable, I was terrified to admit failure and face my fear of being alone.

But things are different now and once I realized that fear was holding me back – I gathered my strength. Finally, I just could not wait any longer. Most of my pain involved finding the courage to tell my husband. I didn’t want to hurt him or my children.

Judy of the Future reminded me that the present would be difficult, but it was temporary and over time, it would be better for my entire family.

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Yes, our dog “Killer” looks sad. He is resting on my pillow, but 99% of the time he is yapping so loud that I cannot carry on a conversation with my husband or children. I will not miss him.

“Judy of the Past, Present and Future”

My father died less than two months ago, but I have hardly cried. I miss him, yet sometimes I feel guilty to admit that I do not miss the suffering man I cared for over the past six months. I plan to continue to update my blog whenever I can. I will end my post by returning to Judy of the Past.

 

I am reliving memories now as I wade through the abundant memorabilia my father collected and saved. Beyond seeing all of my schoolwork and report cards, I have found treasures on paper that I know will inspire me to write for many years. Although I have shed few tears for my dad, some of the documents I am sharing below caused my tears to flow.

 

For many years, my father taught math at L.A. City College in the evenings. I came across a folder filled with his teaching paperwork, as well as evaluations and special cards from his students. When I read the many touching words written by his students, a sob did escape from me. Those beautiful statements made me even prouder of my dad.

 

 

I have never taken a course anywhere even in my earlier years where a teacher could be so great. I’ve taken a couple of Algebra courses and I have never passed it with a passing grade. But thanks to Mr. L. Goodman for the first time, I’m going to get an “A” in Algebra. We can sure use a lot of these kinds of teachers in this college.

 

 

I would like to take this opportunity to commend Mr. Goodman. This gentleman is by far, the most considerate, compassionate, helpful, self-sacrificing instructor by whom I have ever been taught. Fortunately, I have not needed special attention or help, but, for many of my classmates who have needed special attention, Mr. Goodman has never failed to spend extra time with them during class, nor has he ever failed to remain after class to help.

Mr. Goodman is the first Math instructor that I have had in my life (I’m 45) that is really interested in his students and their growth and learning this normally dull subject.

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Clicking on this makes it larger.

I wrote about the fact that my mother insisted I be married before my actual wedding. That story is at #150 A BEAUTIFUL START.

 It is interesting for me how my past has repeated itself. I remember breaking up with Mike when we were dating and so many of the feelings in the present remind me of the past. Keeping the secret about my untimely wedding also reminded me of how burdened I’ve been with my decision to end my marriage. For over a year, I’ve suffered with keeping my feelings hidden from him. I wrote songs to help me; my lyrics were very concise and simple and expressed my feelings perfectly.

 

The paper I found above titled “Forced Marriage,” were notes my father must have taken at a therapy session that I insisted my parents attend. At that time, I expressed my anger toward them about forcing me to marry before my wedding date. In my father’s notes, I believe the word “whore” refers to what my mother called me. She was upset that I was not a virgin even though at that time I was engaged. The sentences “growth is painful” and “can’t be alone” carry deep meaning for me. My dad also wrote “I’m sorry.” He often cried to me to express his regret about not standing up to my mother.

 

There is also a sentence that says, “I hate art.” I do remember finding myself unhappy as an artist because of the constant pressure to perform and please. With my current passions, I feel more creative than I ever felt as an artist. But most importantly, with writing and music I am able release all of my pain.

 

Despite sharing something as personal as that incident from my life, it is important that I also convey that I have forgiven my mother. She was truly sorry, and we became very close after I had children. I am sharing below two cards to her that my father saved.

 

My post title of empty spaces also refers to the emptiness in my life, of missing my mother and her involvement. But I am also relieved that with her dementia she is not experiencing the pain of my divorce or my father’s death.

 

Email message to a friend:

 

I am finding out now that there are many people in my situation who suffer in silence. I plan to begin writing my second book soon about this whole experience. I hope to inspire other people to find the courage to change their life. I know it will be hard, but somehow I feel the unknown has possibilities, whereas “the known” is too sad and lonely for me to live in anymore.

 

I feel so vulnerable right now, like I just snapped. One day, I was fine with everything – and then suddenly I decided I couldn’t be that accepting person I used to be anymore. I know it happens in many relationships, but I never expected it would happen to me.

 

My mother has continued to regress. Yesterday, she flushed both her $2,500 hearing aids down the toilet. She was always able to indicate when she needed to use the toilet to poop, but now she has started to go in her diaper regularly. That creates many issues and makes it more difficult to take her out of her nursing home. Children reach milestones such as toilet training, and now my mother has taken another sad step down the staircase toward death.

 

© 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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AS I MOURN

Posted on June 24, 2012 by Judy
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Link to performances, stories, lyrics and recordings: WITH ME

 

These are my song’s lyrics, exactly as I wrote them. I did not really “craft” my song. I wrote all the lyrics in one moment.

I found many new pictures while cleaning my parents’ old apartment. Any picture I found of myself playing my guitar was beautiful for me.

BELOW IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY VOICE LESSON WITH PEACHES CHRENKO REGARDING MY NEW SONG:

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WITH ME – Voice Lesson Blog Excerpt 6/18/12

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“When I’m discouraged, sometimes I crawl”

 

It had been exactly a month since my father had died. Stress was building up in my life. My days felt like they had become rocks again. The heaviness that weighed upon me sometimes made it physically difficult to even move. I kept everything inside, and could not release nor share it with anyone.

 

I attended a memorial service for my father that was held at his nursing home. My mother and her caregiver, Miriam, attended the service with me. Another man spoke and tearfully mentioned how dementia was a “scourge” upon his father; I completely understood. When it was my turn, I spoke about my dad’s love for me and then I sang my song “You Were There.” I finished and went back to sit down; I was completely drained but inspired. My mother poked me and said, “Where were you?”

 

A few days later, there was a moment when the stress became so great, that I thought it might erupt from me. But nothing was able to be released. Instead, the pounding in my ears became so loud that I could not hear anything. I wished I could escape.

 

Pain squeezed my insides, and caused my breathing to become ragged. My throat muscles were raw and it was hard to swallow. A few burning tears splashed down my cheeks; I tried to calm my ravaged gut.

 

I was filled with total despair and there was nothing to hold onto. My heart felt like a devastated wasteland. I was certain this feeling would pass, and I would survive as I had before. But this situation was different. Survival felt selfish. I was concerned about my children. I wanted them to be strong and resilient, and at the same time I longed to protect them. But I could barely take care of my own emotional needs. I was trying very hard to cope with the loss of my parents. My cocoon of safety was gone and everything was uncertain.

 

I had often pictured my journey as one of walking along a pathway. My path was one that gently meandered through grassy landscapes. A beautiful castle was always visible in the distance. Now the landscape around me was on fire. I needed to figure out whether to run backwards and put out the flames or whether to run in another direction.

 

The throbbing pain inside of me continued as questions swirled through my mind. Had I caused the fire? Would others be hurt in the fire? Was I supposed to rescue everyone? I began to feel myself burning because I couldn’t move to make a decision. My journey was no longer a pleasant stroll. It was becoming painful. One day, I would open up to share my pain.

 

But at that moment, I was lost.

 

“With me in every song”

 

For three days after that, I was numb. I decided that I needed to focus all of my energy into healing myself. I was never going back to the place I had lived in for decades – Zombieland. I tried to find ways to remind myself that I had healed and was no longer that person anymore. Just looking at the fingernails on my hands reinforced how I had the ability to change. I didn’t stop biting my nails until I was 50 years old.

–

It was an improvement in my life that I’ve felt very proud of.

 

I often strained to remember my father’s voice and missed him very much. But I had to accept that he was truly gone forever. I could still feel his love and my new song’s lyrics enveloped me with comfort.

 

It seemed logical for me to retreat into my musical world where I felt safe. In that magical place, all of my uncertainty disappeared. I spent several days working on finalizing an intricate guitar arrangement for my new song. Today, I met with my arranger, George to create an arrangement.

 

I came home and sat alone in my bathroom. My bathroom had a corner area with a chair; it was where I played my guitar and wrote my songs. As I listened to the exquisite notes of my new song’s arrangement, tears began to freely gush down my cheeks.

 

I tried to practice singing along, but my voice became too choked with emotion. I could not sing. Still, I noticed that all of my stress had begun to melt away. It dawned on me that suddenly I felt better. This day was definitely not as heavy as a rock. I was elated; my day was golden once again.

 

What had changed? I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of it. I decided that all of my stress came from a place of disappointment and high expectations – mostly with myself.

 

Life would always hold stress. Living in that place was not really living!

 

My song was a gift to remind me of what was important in my life. Uncertainty, fear and disappointment evaporated because I knew I was blessed.

 

What had changed was that I went to a different place, one of gratefulness and appreciation. 

 

 –

© 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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