THROUGH MY MUSIC – PART 2

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

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.

 

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:

Through My Music Acoustic 4/19/16 Copyright 2016 by Unger

Through My Music #1 Instrumental

 

Link to Part 1 of this story:

THROUGH MY MUSIC – PART 1

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.

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.

 

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.

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 . . .

© 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 BLINKED MY EYES

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.

 

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.

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.

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.

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. 

© 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 LET GO OF FEAR – PART 1

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:
– 

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.

MY TEARS FILLED AN OCEAN – Audio Book excerpt – Copyright 2012 by Judy Unger 

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

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

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.

On Dec. 15, 2011, Ann wrote:

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.

Dearest Ann,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Love, Judy

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

You take care, Judy

On Dec 29, 2011, Janet wrote:

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.

Janet

Dear Janet,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

With love, Judy

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.-

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

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.

Love, Judy

A page of my lyrics for my newest song “Clear” in progress.

© 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 1

Clicking the blue link below will play my song:

I have now written four songs since I finished recalling all of the music from my youth. The process of composing them was similar. It started with a beautiful looping melody in my head that played throughout my day. After that, I constructed the chords on my guitar. The melody and music told me what the new song would be about. The lyrics followed easily, because I heard them in my mind.

 

Two months ago, I wrote a song that was so painful I could not publicly share it. I now realize that my songwriting is my subconscious speaking to me.

 

With my newest song “Clear,” I am sharing an inspirational message to the world and to myself. I plan to continue turning my life around and getting up off the ground where I was stuck for a very long time.

 

My song evolved over a period of one month, and is still quite fresh. It was actually on the day when I recorded my song that I finished composing it. I thought my song was done, but then my subconscious voice spoke loudly to me.

 

Originally, I had the line leading up to “my life became clear” as “I followed my heart.” On a humorous note, it reminded me of a restaurant with that title. I changed it to “I opened my heart.” Even though I liked “I opened my heart; my life became clear,” it was a moment of clarity when I changed the line to “I opened my eyes, life became clear.”

 

Now my song expressed perfectly how one day I opened my eyes and woke up. After that, I saw my life quite differently.

 

It was when I wanted to improve the melody for that lyric line that my song expanded in a beautiful way. The new melody was so lovely; I decided to add another line leading up to it. I searched and searched for something to rhyme with clear that would fit my song.

 

When the line came to me, I was overcome with joy and amazement. Singing those words felt ethereal and I made sure my song’s arrangement conveyed it. That one line was how my journey began.

 

It was “beautiful music I could hear.”

 

My life was silent and sad for decades. The beautiful music that fills my life with joy resulted from my clarity. I am so grateful for the gift I was given.

 

That gift is my life.

My daughter and I went for a hike and she brought along her camera.


CLEAR

Copyright 2015 by Judy Unger


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

now I’m even older

A woman so wise, but I realize

my 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, but inside I wept

I cried for the losses I could not accept

It all changed, when I let go of fear

beautiful music I could hear

I opened my eyes, life became clear

 

I celebrate; it’s never too late

To turn your life around

No reason to wait

 

I carried on, I lived with heartache

I was so numb, I wasn’t awake

It all changed, when 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 wasn’t too late

I turned my life around, got up off the ground

happiness I found

No reason to wait

 “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” Norman Cousins

 

I composed my song “Clear” at a time when I had tremendous financial pressure and both my mother and father were in poor health. Although I was confident that my stories and music would be comforting to many people, I sometimes wrestled with fear that “following my dream” was innapropriate given my circumstances. With the line of “no reason to wait,” my subconscious was clearly speaking to me. My song was a gift that filled me with serenity and determination; whether or not I made money – I would continue doing what I loved.

I originally thought I would name my song “I Turned My Life Around.” I decided upon the title “Clear” instead, because my clarity was far more meaningful for me and was the reason I turned my life around.

No reason to wait

Because my clarity was achieved when I let go of fear, I want to share some of my former fears, and what it means to have clarity in my life now:

Fear was dreading and anticipating future loss, sadness and pain. Clarity was treasuring every moment possible with my loved ones.

 

Fear was feeling doubtful and uncertain; worrying about possible challenges in the future that I wasn’t sure I could handle. Clarity was feeling positive of my self-worth. I knew I was successful and didn’t require monetary compensation or approval from anyone else in order to feel that way.

 

Fear was being afraid of being alone. Clarity represented the peace and serenity I achieved when I was by myself while writing, composing music or creating artwork. I felt joy simply by doing what I loved. Sharing was beautiful for me because I was so passionate about my creations.

 

Fear was expecting someone else to soothe me and save me. Clarity was about not needing someone or something material to make me happy. I was content and found serenity with many simple things. With a paper and pencil I could write lyrics; I could hum a melody to soothe myself anytime I needed to.

Fear was worrying if I had done something that caused someone else to be unhappy. Clarity was not blaming myself for their unhappiness or attempting to cure their problem. Instead, I preferred to help other people solve their own problems. I also especially encouraged them to find their own joy.

 

Fear was not allowing myself to feel emotion because it was too scary; this led to numbness. Clarity was recognizing that suppressing emotion in order to avoid pain required tremendous energy, and that led to general fatigue and dullness. Expressing honest feelings allowed all of my energy to be directed instead toward living with vigor, passion and enthusiasm.

 

Fear was seeing my life as wasted, sad, and closing in on old age fraught with deterioration. Clarity was seeing the portion of my life remaining as exciting and thrilling. I had so much relief about not waiting any longer or wasting any more time.

 

Fear was the terror of imagining the end of my life. Clarity was accepting life was finite. It was that simple fact that made my life meaningful and deeply treasured. Living with passion was so satisfying that even if my life ended tomorrow, I was grateful and inspired for the life I had lived. I was always grateful for the many talents I was born with, but the gift I was grateful for the most was my life.

 

Fear was looking up and seeing only the ceiling. It was familiar, drab and colorless. Clarity was looking up and seeing a beautiful sky instead. The many intricate colors represented exciting new vistas under those skies to dream about. Now I looked forward to new experiences and just thinking of those possibilities caused me to weep with joy.

The line that I love most in my song “Clear,” is the one about getting up off the ground; that image I see of myself is a very real one and I wrote about it in my story “There Was Hope For Me.” Often, many of my lyric lines can be found within my stories.

A year before composing “Clear,” I wrote a poem, “My Tears Filled an Ocean.” My poem described how “I was not afraid;” I closed my eyes and descended into the dark depths of my ocean of tears so I could see Jason again. When I opened my eyes, he was there and I was touched by his love and emanating glow. At that moment, I finally understood that I didn’t need to drown myself in order to see Jason; I would see him again when my life was over. After that, I crawled forth from my ocean of tears onto a new shore. I stood up and celebrated how I had reached a beautiful destination I could never have imagined. That vision definitely represented the beginning of my clarity and how I began to see the world around me quite differently than I had before.

I look at my grief as something that has added great meaning and depth to my life; all of my tears have definitely given me tremendous compassion for others who are suffering. Yet even when I was grieving, I maintained a smile. My line of, “As I grow old, I’ll keep my smile,” is an honest, because I plan to continue smiling for the rest of my life, whatever I might face. My smile has always been my beacon to light up the world and everything around me.

The ethereal line of “beautiful music I could hear,” tells my story of how music began to play in my mind as I healed; with my joy, the music grew even louder. My world was silent and sad for decades, until exquisite melodies began to fill my heart with joy.

I have described my former life as “Zombieland” where I lived a plodding existence. There was nothing I looked forward to, and I really felt like I was sleepwalking through my life. Thankfully, my current life is one where I am wide-awake; I see everything clearly now, and am completely in touch with my feelings.

It was one thing for me to experience the pain of grief, but for many years after that I was never able to truly let go of grief because of the challenges I continued to face raising my children and dealing with my elderly parents. For personal reasons, I cannot share details about my family. But I am definitely an example of the “sandwich generation.” Stress and worry always felt familiar, and it became a habit for me to stuff my emotions. I didn’t expect that anything would ever change, even though I was always grateful for so much in my life.

My journey began when I decided to take a different path. When my new path appeared, I was ready to follow it. With my new path everything changed for me. I opened up my heart to the world, I found my music and I became fulfilled and happy. Even though it might have taken me many years, I am so grateful I didn’t wait any longer. I wish every human could find his or her own path.

It is never too late.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. 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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