myjourneysinsight

ANOTHER YOU – PART 2

Posted on February 1, 2012 by Judy

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ANOTHER YOU

Here I am writing to you,

When I know you’ve heard these words before

But now there’s so much more,

And it’s mostly left unsaid

And here I am singing to you,

When I know that you’ve heard every song

But this one is lifelong; the music is forever

And I know if I search my whole life through

I’ll never find another you

I could search and search my memories, too

And I’ll never find, I’ll never find another you

Here I am dreaming of you

Wishing I could tell you so many things

But then the memory brings a smile

And you are with me now

Here I am shining to you

And I can’t believe what’s happened to me

My happiness is there to see

and what you would have wanted

And I know if I search my whole life through

I’ll never find another you

I could search and search my memories, too

And I’ll never find, I’ll never find another you

I’ll never find another you

Even if I search my whole life through

I’ll never find another you

Even if I search my whole life through

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CLICK THE BLUE LINKS BELOW TO PLAY MY SONG:

Link to part one of this story: I’LL NEVER FIND ANOTHER YOU–

I dedicate this post to Cheryl. I am including many old pictures.

I wrote my song “Another You” for my friend Cheryl thirty-three years ago. It was one of my very first song arrangements with George when I started recording my songs in 2010.

It must have been no coincidence that on the third anniversary of Cheryl’s death, I was working with George to create a new arrangement of this song.

I spoke with Cheryl’s mother, Blanch, while driving to Glendale where I work with George. It was a difficult phone call. I let her know I was thinking of her on this sad “anniversary of the heart.” Blanch reminded me of what I already knew – that every single day was hard, it made no difference about the anniversary. The pain of her grief was endless.

I told her I would share my song when it was finished, and I mentioned how Cheryl continued to touch my life. I often hear Cheryl’s voice, and I feel like she is close to me. Recently, I added another verse to my song, about how Cheryl is with me.

Last week I ran into some technical problems at the recording studio. I’ve been working on my audio book without much of a break for months, and the prospect of seeing it almost finished was tantalizing. The recording issues translated into hours of recordings that were not usable. I was devastated and more than a little discouraged. It felt like my destination of finishing my book was getting farther away.

However, I decided to find serenity with the fact that I am “the vehicle” for all that I am doing. I can redo anything, and practice has always been beneficial for me. Unfortunately, the problems have not yet been solved, and I plan to hang on until they are.

While I was hanging on, I wrote a new song. Every time I write a new song, I continue to heal my soul. My heart feels like a garden that is blooming, and the beauty of my music continues to bless my life.

My music gives me emotional strength. Recording a new arrangement for Another You was an expense I wasn’t sure I could justify. But when I listened to my new arrangement, it caused my heart to soar.

My serenity allows me to push aside the doubts, which had begun creeping inside of me like poison. I drove home from my recording session and I felt relaxed. I was determined not to allow financial pressure to cause me stress.

My journey was about helping other people, and also about healing myself. I did not want it to end.

I came home to a beautiful message from an art director. She wanted to purchase several paintings that I could easily produce. It was sign for me. Letting go of fear, once again produced an amazing result.

I cried tears of happiness. I heard Cheryl’s smiling voice. She was beside me every step of the way.

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My journey would continue.

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© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tagged acoustic guitar, best friend, Cheryl Kessler, child's death, childhood friendship, college memories, composing, creativity, death of a friend, Friendship, grief, GRIEF RELATED, inspiration, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mourning a friend, Music, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting | Leave a comment

THROUGH MY MUSIC – PART 2

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Judy

I wrote my song Through My Music while in my old pink bedroom. No cordless phones then!

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My journey began with my blog.

At that time, I was giddy with excitement and loved writing about all aspects of my life. A shopping outing to Costco and seeing messes from the numerous pets in my household often had me giggling.

My world “exploded.” As I healed and expressed myself through writing and music, I felt serene. My emotions were no longer exploding anymore.

It was the intensely satisfying process of songwriting that truly healed me. I was able to easily express my deepest emotions that way; I channeled them into words and melodies. Unfortunately, some of my songs have become very personal; it is difficult for me to share them publicly. One day, I know I will.

Because I have dedicated myself to recording and editing my audio book, I have been far too busy to write blog posts. However, I can certainly share pictures.

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I will start with an old one of my parents and a more recent one from a weekly lunch outing. My parents’ wheelchairs are parked next to each other, but they cannot really communicate much, due to my dad’s irritability and my mother’s dementia. However, it is clear that both of them look forward to that lunch outing every week, and I am so happy to share that time with them.

My post is titled “Through My Music – Part 2” because recently I worked with my arranger George to create a new arrangement of my song. We also worked and improved my first arrangement. Below is a link to the original post about this song:

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Through My Music #1 Instrumental

THR OUGH MY MUSIC #2 INSTRUMENTAL

Link to Part 1 of this story:

THROUGH MY MUSIC – PART 1

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My music continues to bless my life with joy. Last week, I attended a seventy-fifth birthday celebration for my high school choir teacher, Frankie Nobert. A group of choir members from a later year performed and it was extremely nostalgic for me to listen to those songs that I remembered singing when I was 17.

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A view of a choir reunion performing in honor of Frankie’s birthday.

I created a poster of Frankie for the event, and below I am posing with it next to my wonderful friend Carol, whom I reconnected with a little over a year ago. The picture of Carol and I while hiking last year definitely radiates our joy.

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My subconscious continues to lead me to interesting pathways. When I made an appointment with George to work on another arrangement for my song “Another You,” it must have been no coincidence that it fell on the anniversary of Cheryl’s death, the first of February. My song “Another You” is dedicated to her, and it will be three years since she died. I still miss her very much and will share the new arrangement of this song soon.

Below is a picture of Cheryl, as well as my other wonderful friends from our college days.

I am at the top center. Carol is on my left and Joni on my right. Cheryl is on the bottom right side.

Last week, I performed for an open mic event at a place called “The Onion.” The building is shaped as such, and it had wonderful acoustics.

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The entrance to the Onion where I performed a week ago.

I have learned to relax while performing and the connection I felt when I sang that night was an indescribable experience. I often felt tears in my eyes.

I look forward to future performances and the sensation of singing my heart out with joy.

My beautiful journey continues . . .

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Tagged acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, childhood friendship, choir teacher, chorus memories, composing, creativity, Friendship, guitar, high school memories, inspiration, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, writing | Leave a comment

I BLINKED MY EYES

Posted on January 15, 2012 by Judy

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My last song began with the awareness of how my life seemed to go by very fast. I have realized that being connected to my heart has allowed me to blink my eyes and see myself as a child, a young girl, a mature woman and a future “old woman” – all at once. It is like experiencing time travel.

I often find myself feeling emotional as I recall something from my past and then an instant later I can be overwhelmed by seeing a projection of my future. It is almost like I am watching a movie of my life that I can fast forward and rewind at will. At this moment, my future looks exciting and thrilling most of the time. However, there are times when I see future moments that are sad.

I live two separate lives. One is within my own beautiful musical world, and the other is in a practical and physical world with other people and my loved ones. As I dance between the two, I am usually joyous, and often feel like I have an amazing secret about where my life is headed. It has been awkward for me to share those feelings, so I have learned to keep it my secret, for now. But I have a few special friends who know, and I cherish them.

I treasure each day of my life and live with the intense satisfaction of being completely honest and open. This has allowed for tremendous creativity, as I am bursting to express myself. Because I give myself permission, I have boundless energy and my brain explodes with inspiring ideas.

After recording my song “Clear,” I was open to any new music that might come to me. Last week, I heard a beautiful new melody and the timing was perfect. I needed to soothe myself. I was not yet sure what my haunting melody would say, but it spoke to me with the pain that was creeping into my heart.

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In order to find it, I concentrated and carefully listened. As I sang the notes that were slowly revealed to me, tears began pool within my eyes. I wondered what lyrics I would write. Most of my songs had already covered many of my emotions, even if they were written decades ago.

For over a week, the melody began to grow louder. I could not write the lyrics, so I decided to write instead about a particular day that captured my emotions.

It was on a Wednesday. My mother’s caregiver, Miriam, brought my mother over to my home for lunch. It was immediately apparent that my mother’s dementia had worsened. It simply continued to advance without any stopping. If dementia could be compared to running a marathon, my mother was closing in on the finish line. She kept crawling forward, unwilling to give up even though her body was failing. Her brain was departing, but her spirit kept her moving forward even though she no longer had the ability to understand why she was doing that. Most of what she said made little sense, and her reality was probably from her past because she kept mentioning names of people I didn’t know.

Love had not left her, though.

I decided that her immense love for her family was the fuel that kept her living.

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I am close to another resident across the hall from my mother at her nursing facility. I am with Sarah, who just celebrated her 99th birthday last week. She walks and is very sharp. I am heartened to know that not everyone gets dementia.

As I ate my lunch, I tried to converse with my mother. She did not hear me, and her nonsensical responses made me sad. Miriam had so much compassion for the situation and I treasured her presence. I didn’t want to ignore my mother, but talking to Miriam was far more comforting. I tried to navigate between two disparate conversations: one that was artificial and frustrating, and the other that was filled with sorrow at my mom’s worsening condition.

Two days earlier, Miriam had suffered along with my mother at a clinic where my mother received a monthly infusion. Every month for fifty years, my mother has received gamma globulin to help boost her poor immunity. Miriam suggested my mother might need some sedation beforehand because it was becoming increasing difficult to deal with her agitation; it took a long time to put in the IV needle and then my mother’s hands needed to be restrained so she wouldn’t pull it out.

I remembered how my mother used to be so vigilant about these treatments. In the blink of an eye, I flashed forward to the future and wondered when I would decide to discontinue them, which would hasten her death. I decided not to think about it for the present.

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It’s hard for me to believe my parents changed so much since they celebrated their fiftieth anniversary. It was twelve years ago, and we had a lovely party at my home where they are dancing in this picture.

It was almost time for my mother to go back to her facility. Miriam adjusted her bib, and cajoled my mother to take one more bite of food. With the blink of an eye, more memories flooded my mind. I remembered when my mother used to boast of how she fed my brother who was underweight after being born prematurely.

The memory became vivid when I saw her feeding Jason. I used to marvel at her energy and ability to get him to eat when I had struggled with it so much. I could see her clearly now; she pretended the food on the fork was going into the airplane hangar and she hummed as she moved it through the air like an oncoming airplane. Now Miriam, was holding a piece of fruit for my mother on a fork. She begged her to take one more bite, but my mother refused. She often had little appetite, and Miriam was desperate to help her eat.

Our lunch was over and there were still a few moments of time left. I was exhausted from trying to maintain the artificial conversation with my mother. I stood up and lightly kissed her cheek and said, “Mom, would you like me to play my guitar for you before you leave?”

She answered, “Yes, I would love that.”

I gasped when she connected with me for the first time that day.

My throat tightened and I felt tears well up in my throat. I went to get my guitar and the emotions within me felt like a huge wave forming at the beach. There was no containing it, and my head began to pound.

I climbed my stairway, and the time travel continued. As I went up the first few steps, I pictured my mother holding onto the rail probably ten years earlier. She was struggling to go up those stairs, but pretended she was fine. For years, my mother refused to ever consider using a walker and she always stubbornly argued that she was strong enough without one.

When the day came where she could no long climb those stairs – it was a sad one that I considered a milestone of her age and continued physical deterioration.

I clutched my guitar tightly with relief. A moment later, I was singing for my mother. I looked over to see my mother’s eyes were closed; it had been less than a minute since I began singing. I looked at Miriam and her eyes were concerned. My mother was asleep. I put down my guitar.

It was time for my mother to go now.

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This picture was taken a year ago. My mother has lost a lot of weight since then.

I could see how Miriam was far more attuned to my mother than I was now. It was her daily existence, and much more than just a job. I was so grateful for her and preferred to remove myself from a lot of it because it was far too painful for me. I didn’t allow myself to feel guilty, and I knew my mother would have understood that.

After my mother left, I picked up my guitar and immediately felt better. I closed my eyes. The melody became even louder, and I cried as I sang it.

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Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, Caregiving, composing, creativity, dementia, guitar, loss, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, writing | 1 Comment

I LET GO OF FEAR – PART 1

Posted on January 8, 2012 by Judy

I treasure every moment with my parents. In this picture, I am taking them out from their nursing facility to our weekly lunch with my older brother. In spite of grief, I’ve kept my smile my whole life and plan to continue to do so.

–These four blue links below are recordings of my voice lessons discussing my song “Clear” with Peaches Chrenko:

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LESSON A WITH PEACHES – 12/19/11 CLEAR

LESSON B WITH PEACHES – 12/19/11 CLEAR

LESSON C WITH PEACHES – 12/29/11 CLEAR

LESSON D WITH PEACHES – 12/29/11 CLEAR

Below is an excerpt from my audio book. It is from a story near the end of my book called “Healing Came At Last.” In this excerpt, I speak about my healing and then read my poem “My Tears Filled an Ocean.” I play my original acoustic guitar composition “Waterfalls” in the background.–

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The words and post where I originally wrote “My Tears Filled An Ocean” can be found by clicking the blue link below.

BESIDE ME ALWAYS – PART 2

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A sad message below from someone in my grief forum responding to someone else’s message of deep grief:

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I don’t have any good words either, other than I understand the pain. My faith also has been tested; I’m starting to think that maybe this life here on earth is Hell, because I can’t imagine anything else being as bad as the pain we feel from losing our children. And I can’t wait to be reunited with my son.

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On Dec. 15, 2011, Ann wrote:

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Hi Judy, I would like to have anything you would like to send me. I am so broken hearted . . . I lost another brother this morning. I have lost so many loved ones in the past two years. I am just moving around in a dark fog.

It is so hard; sometimes I think I will just die from a broken heart. This is more than one person should have to endure.

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Dearest Ann,

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We are all going to die someday, and there are many people who actually do die from a broken heart. I went to a funeral just a month ago for a man who died as a result of his grief.

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Does that allow us to be with our loved ones – death? Perhaps. When we die, then we will know for sure. However, we are still alive. Why are we still alive with so much pain? That is a hard question that I do not have an answer for.

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When someone grieves this deeply, it means you had immense love – so much so that it has caused your exquisite agony. That means you have the capacity to love, and most certainly, others in your life love you, as well.

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They are hurting to imagine losing you! Imagine how much more pain would be magnified if you died! Perhaps you can reach out to those who love you to help you endure this. The pain does not go away and I’m not minimizing your loss. It is too much for one person to endure. But I am certain you will. Allow yourself to cry and find any way you can to help yourself feel better. Carrying the memories and love can help you survive the pain. Expressing your love to others is the best way.

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It’s just too soon for you to die. That is a serious message you are giving yourself. Instead of telling yourself you will die from a broken heart, tell yourself that your enormous heart will continue to love and it will eventually stop bleeding. Your loved ones want that for you – trust me!

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Love, Judy

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My doctor told me yesterday that I am living in a fantasy world, just because I said that I want my wife back. I know that I have to go on and live a new life without her. I just am not ready to do so. People who haven’t been married and truly bonded just don’t understand that the feeling really is like a part of me has died, too. While some may say that’s not a healthy way to feel, all I can say is that it’s real for me.   I want to feel better, to feel peace again. I have periods of time when I seem to be doing pretty well. Then, out of nowhere something triggers me and I can barely function.   My life, while it may improve someday, will not be what it was and that’s the harsh fact. As much as anything, that reality haunts me daily.   There is a new diagnosis in the DSM called “Prolonged Grief Disorder”. Well, I have it. Two and one half years is a long time to feel sad and depressed and angry and all the rest. I will never feel the old “normal” again and that tears me out of the frame some days.   The only people I trust are the folks who have shared this experience. They have the wisdom I need. The rest, no matter how well intended, I just dismiss.   Joe

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Dear Joe (and anyone else in deep grief that is feeling discouraged),

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There is a lot of commiserating that goes on in this forum. I’m not going to even go near the place of saying I know how you feel; you are a widower and I have lost a child. I cannot imagine losing a soul mate, and I do not compare grief because that leads to further isolation. I used to feel like even other grieving people could hardly imagine the depth of my pain, but I still very much agreed with your last line. When I was in deep grief, I surrounded myself with people who were grieving like I was.

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I remember feeling haunted by the loss of my former life and the fact that I would never feel the “old normal again.” You wrote that it “tears you out of your frame,” which is such an eloquent way to say that. I wish I could say that healing comes sooner. It might be almost three years now for you; I won’t even write how long it took me.

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But what I want to share is don’t give up hope. You will feel better someday and you will have a depth of compassion to help other people as a result of your loss. Your wife will always be with you, in spirit and in memories.

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One day, you will feel joyful. And you will remember this message. Until then, keep going as you have. You are grieving. It’s awful, unbearable, and discouraging. But never give up hope. There aren’t many messages written like mine on this forum. Everyone needs to have hope.

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If there was hope for me, there could be hope for anyone. I suffered a lot and wanted to die when I was grieving. No one can imagine it unless they’ve suffered.

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You take care, Judy

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On Dec 29, 2011, Janet wrote:

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I wish the New Year could be better. I’ve got a 78 yr. old father who I am afraid to lose. He’s in good health, but that could change. I hope it doesn’t. My Mom got sick in April and was gone in July. It can happen so fast. I don’t feel safe. I don’t want to lose anyone else either.

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Janet

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Dear Janet,

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My parents are very sick and I don’t think they will both be with me a year from now. I feel like I’ve already lost my mother, since her mind is gone due to advanced dementia. But I still feel her love, and appreciate that. I treasure my parents and their love.

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Two years ago, I healed from my grief. I used to live with a lot of fear after my 5-year-old son died, and I mourned the loss of my innocence. My fear was paralyzing and interfered with living life to my full potential.

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Life is a gift. It is finite. We will all die and so will those whom we love – the natural order is that our parents go first. Fear destroys the potential to find happiness. I wish you could find some acceptance about your eventual and inevitable loss. That would make your time very meaningful and precious with your father. While he’s in good health you could form beautiful memories and those will sustain you when he’s gone.

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I know that life is full of pain. Moving forward toward not being afraid of future loss is a huge step. You have suffered a lot losing your mom so suddenly. Before that happened, you were not aware that you might lose someone you loved so fast. That is the nature of innocence and believing that everyone can live forever.

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Every minute counts. Janet, I pray you can find peace and realize that. Your dad would definitely want you to – and your mom.

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With love, Judy

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I think I look happy here in this picture with my brother, Norm, and sister-in-law, Jo. This was taken at one of our weekly lunches with my parents.-

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On Jan 2, 2012, Susan wrote:

Judy, I wanted to thank you for sending me the new song and stuff. I haven’t listened to it yet, because I have been really touchy lately about Mom’s death, and I don’t want to get hysterical again. When I am in a frame of mind to listen, I will. I am so appreciative of the fact that you care and sent me those songs. I really mean that. But lately lots of things have triggered some intense emotional outbursts. I have to try to keep on an even keel. When my apple cart gets upset, I have Hell to pay to rebalance it. Hugs, Susan

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Hi Susan,

Thanks for letting me know you received. My latest song is called “Clear” and moves beyond “Hanging On.” What I’m about to write is not about dealing with deep, intense grief. Those feelings are impossible to contain. This is about moving beyond grief when you feel stuck. I lived for a long time without allowing myself to express feelings. My song is about how I truly did move from being a “Zombie” to feeling clarity.

I want to write to you about your fear and what it takes for you to keep on an even keel. It sounds to me like you are fearful of your intense emotions. However, holding those feelings in and keeping on an “even keel” requires tremendous energy, which is draining you. It is actually causing you to live in Hell without you realizing it. Even though it is like throwing up to release those feelings, it is a relief after. Being hysterical is ok! Stuffing is really not healthy. Once you get to a place where you allow yourself to feel, other emotions such as joy could return to your life.

Keep hanging in there, Susan. I care.

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Love, Judy

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