I GO TO PLACES THAT HEAL ME

Posted on September 16, 2011 by Judy

My conure, Tiki, who is looking at me (after we took a shower together). I think he thought my iPod nano had an eyeball to peck out. (I moved it quickly!)

Message from a woman in my grief forum:

I work in a retail shop. Yesterday I had a very nice customer going on and on about her only child moving 3 hours away from home. She doesn’t “know how she can go on, live without her daughter, the pain of being that far away.” This went on for quite some time. I didn’t say anything. My husband said I should have told her that I would give anything in the world to be only 3 hours away.

 

What would you have done?

 

My answer:

There are many stages of grief. I remember these things coming up all the time for me, too. If it pained you, then I agree with your husband. It would be an opportunity to give this woman a different perspective.

 

When I was in my angry stage, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say something. Farther along in my grief, I felt less of a need to express it because it became awkward – I felt wounded and wanted to pretend I wasn’t. Instead, I found other ways to cope, such as venting to other bereaved parents. I stayed close to those who truly understood and that helped a lot.

 

I have a living daughter. Even though I have lost a child (my 5-year-old son in 1992), I still reserve the right to be sad when she moves away from home. Comparing and measuring grief leads to isolation and loneliness; everyone has a right to express his or her feelings. This woman had no idea about your loss, so the truth is that you are the one who carries the pain around and many, many things will trigger it.

 

I have grieved a long time, but I share hope because I am truly happy now and able to enjoy life. It took a long time and my heart goes out to you.

 

Judy

Performing

I am performing in this picture at an open mic venue in North Hollywood.

I have not written for a stretch because I have been concentrating on finishing my book. I am my own production company, as I create all of my own spoken audio recordings, vocals, images, written stories, and book design format. I have been submitting query letters to try and obtain a literary agent.

At the same time as I tackle such a daunting task, I am also writing new material for my second book and composing new songs. I have set no deadline and I make sure to see both of my parents at least twice a week, with separate visits. My parents are managing and things are fairly calm for the moment.

Last week, I decided to call Larry. He was someone I had briefly dated in college and was a good friend of a couple I’ve known for many years. They gave me his phone number. Larry has owned his own audio/video business for 32 years. I called him and he invited me to his house to see what he does.

His home was filled with a fascinating array of equipment and he did some test recordings for me. It was wonderful to meet him again and the timing is excellent because I wanted his advice about the quality of my home recordings. I was concerned about the cost, but he said I could barter with him by assisting him with artwork and video shoots. My friend, Steve asked me to take a picture while at Larry’s, so I snapped one quickly. Steve, who does all of my music mixing, is going to join me next week when I see Larry again. That should be very interesting!

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This is not a very good representation of Larry’s equipment, and I’ll take better pictures next time I’m at his studio.

I sent an email to my friends, to share my enthusiasm and received a cute message back from Sam:

On Sep 12, 2011, Sam wrote:

Well, us old boyfriends can come in handy! 

 

I celebrate all the goodness in my life. I definitely had some very nice messages to inspire me the last few weeks. I forget to mention that I even had an illustration assignment. When I delivered the final art to the art director, I received such a lovely message back:

 

Hello Judy, 

Thank you so much for all your beautiful work and working so hard with my tight deadline. I know you went the extra mile for me especially on the strawberry…I hope you got some sleep last night! Please send your invoice. Thank you again Judy, you were the best. 

 

My illustrations to be used on yogurt packaging labels.

 

I was given permission by my wonderful editor, Carol Bidwell Walkey, to share our recent e-mail exchange:

 

On Sep 5, 2011, Carol wrote:

Judy: I’ll read those last chapters and send them back to you by midweek, if all goes well. 

 

But I have to tell you; I read the first two intros, which I merged into one, and the first two chapters, and you, rock, girl. This stuff doesn’t meander anymore; it gets straight to the point and in a good way. It even made me tear up a bit, which the first one didn’t do.  

 

The main thing is, you’ve learned so much — both from me and from yourself. Your writing is so much clearer and freer. I’m so proud of you. I think this has a good chance to sell … but then what do I know? 

 

Carol 

 

On Sep 5, 2011, Judy wrote: 

Oh, Carol, thanks so much for your message. I’m proud of myself, too because I have learned so much. I wrote in elementary school and this has been such a fantastic two years for me. I love what I’m doing (which is obvious) and even the responses I’ve gotten from my material prior to your editing has fueled me.

 

I think my book has an excellent chance to sell. I know my music isn’t contemporary, but it’s a good story and one that our depressed country might embrace. There are so many grief stricken people, and women my age who might not dream that they could change their life as I have mine.

 

You helped me so much and I feel how much clearer and freer my writing is. I certainly can feel more books in my future and with all that I’ve learned from your editing (isn’t that great?) I’ll have far less errors and a better writing style. 

 

Your last words of “What do I know?” Well, I think you know a lot. You’re not promising me anything and that “disclaimer” doesn’t phase me. You have a lot of great connections, which I hope to tap into once I have a finished product. I think my book is going to change a lot of people’s lives and that I’ll be on a talk show circuit. I’m such a dreamer!

 

Judy 

 

On Sep 5, 2011, Carol wrote:

Judy: you sound excited, and you should. What I read today is head and shoulders above what I first read. You’re improving every day. This should be a great book. 

 

Carol 

 

Lastly, I shared preliminary audio recordings for my book with my friend, Lori, who I’ve written about many times.

 

RECONNECTING & REMEMBERING

BYE, BYE ZOMBIELAND

 

Her message was so beautiful that I’ve included it in my book! 

 

Hi Judy, 

I apologize for taking so long to get back to you regarding your audio book. To be honest with you I would selfishly only listen to it when I was alone driving in my car so I could give it the full attention it deserved. I was sad when I put in the last disc and knew I would finish it soon! Words cannot describe how I felt listening to it! First of all I am so proud of you for such a huge accomplishment. I was so touched to hear Matthew’s story included in your book. Your story is so emotional and inspirational both at the same time. I laughed and cried, and people probably thought I was nuts when they would drive by me! 

 

It’s been a very long time since I have visited Matthew’s death story. Hearing Jason’s story forced me back to that horrible day, almost 16 years ago. I realized, like you, I have come such a long way and I can say I am truly happy now. I had forgotten you were with me that very special day when I found out I was pregnant with Katie. It gave me such joy that you chose to include that in your book. 

 

I loved how you incorporated your music into your stories. Judy, with everything you have going on in your life right now it amazes me you were able to write a book! I truly believe it can make a difference in the lives of the newly bereaved and those who are farther along in their grief just looking for that light at the end of the tunnel.  We have always said our greatest fear is that our dead children would be forgotten. I now know that our children’s deaths have made us what we are today and they will never be forgotten. You are a beautiful, loving, inspirational person and there is no doubt Jason would be so proud you are his mother.

Love, Lori

My escape

When I went to swim laps the other day at my gym, it was fairly empty. I hate “lap traffic!”

Last week, while I was sitting at my computer, I stretched my arm behind me to pick up a piece of paper. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed me in my breastbone and I immediately froze. The throbbing pain was reminiscent of pain I felt after I had cracked a rib when I was a child. I wondered how I had hurt myself simply by reaching over for a piece of paper.

From experience, I knew nothing could be done for an injury in that area. On Sunday, I had a performance at my friend, Joni’s synagogue. It was difficult to play guitar and to even take a deep breath with the pain I was feeling. I knew I needed to contact my doctor. So on Monday, I was smiling as a technician finished shooting four x-rays of my chest. I found the memory of how I cracked my rib as a child humorous, even though it was an incredibly painful experience where I thought I was dying at the time.

 

I was probably about 8 years old and had recently learned how to do flips into a swimming pool. I thought I could practice my dives onto a mattress. As I leapt into the air and landed on my bed, the wind was completely knocked out of me. My mouth was open and I could not breathe. I flailed and squeaked in terror trying to expand my lungs.

 

My doctor called me later on to tell me that I had not cracked a rib. When I received a doctor visit summary on my computer, It caught my eye that it was a year ago this same week when I had suffered from terrible carpal tunnel pain in my wrists.

 

With that information, came the realization that seasonal change had begun to cause manifestation of my emotions into physical pain. My subconscious was very busy directing my thoughts into areas of my body. My heartache literally became that! The anniversary of Jason’s death was less than a month away and the “march” to it had begun.

 

It was time for me to go out of my way to take care of myself. Since I no longer bit my nails (something I had done up until the age of 50), I had a manicure. I went shopping to buy a few new bras and some blouses.

 

And then – I went swimming. As I swam laps, my mind took me to magical places. I was swimming in an azure sea to a tropical destination where I left behind all of my pain. Metaphors began to swirl in my mind as I swam laps. Within that half hour, I composed a parable.

 

I threw my gym bag into my car and my hair was still damp. I definitely felt better. I put on my music and my soul swelled as I listened to songs I could hardly believe were mine. I felt so emotional that I began to cry. At that moment, I decided to acknowledge there was a God, who had indeed blessed me.

 

© 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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BESIDE ME ALWAYS – PART 3

Posted on August 26, 2011 by Judy

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Click the blue links below to play audio:

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Beside Me Always Arrangement 2018

Beside Me Always Acoustic 1-6-18 Copyright 2018 by Unger

Beside Me Always Meditation Song

BESIDE ME ALWAYS ARRANGEMENT

BESIDE ME ALWAYS INSTRUMENTAL

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OTHER LINKS:

Story behind BESIDE ME ALWAYS-PART 1

Story behind BESIDE ME ALWAYS-PART 2

Story behind BESIDE ME ALWAYS-PART 4

AN INTRODUCTION – BESIDE ME ALWAYS

 

I felt moved by the beautiful summer evening, and marveled at the colors of the sky as it faded into dusk. I parked my car and sang aloud before getting out. I wanted my voice to be warmed up because I was going to perform my original song “Beside Me Always” shortly.

 

Summer would soon be drawing to a close and fall was approaching. I felt sadness enveloping my heart with the change of seasons. In early October, it was the anniversary of my first-born son, Jason’s death. It was poignant for me, as I recalled faint memories of 19 years earlier when I had cherished his last summer on earth. Playing my song “Beside Me Always,” allowed me to hold Jason close to my heart.

 

Even with the anticipation of Jason’s death anniversary, I was filled with joy and an aura of peace. I walked carrying my guitar and felt as if I could almost fly; my heart was filled with music. There was nothing I loved more than sharing my passion and especially inspiring other people to know how happiness was still possible despite heartbreak.

 

It was truly miraculous for me to recall how only two years ago I was so different. For decades, I lived a “zombie-like” existence. My grief, the constant stress and responsibility for many people in my life weighed heavily upon me. I was a sad middle-aged woman who completely focused upon taking care of others.

 

But one day, my story became a real-life fairy tale. I discovered my love for writing and reconnected with many of my friends from the past. With my friends’ encouragement, I began to play my guitar again. I had hardly played for thirty years and was a passionate songwriter when I was younger.

 

Within a short time, I rediscovered all the songs I wrote during my youth. I began composing new songs and my sadness was replaced with happiness and joy. When I discovered the magical elixirs of writing and music, I transformed into a completely different person. It was truly as if my soul had moved into another person. Even the sound of my voice and the way I walked felt different for me. Still, my grief would never be forgotten and had changed me forever.

 

I was going to perform at an open mic venue that allowed a songwriter to play one song. It was an intimate room and an excellent opportunity for me to share my music. It was a little over a year ago when I began to perform my songs there.

 

As I walked closer, people began to smile at me and call out my name. I was no longer an anonymous middle-aged woman who was relearning how to play a dusty guitar after thirty years. I had a new identity now; I was the singer who shared her heartbreak with sincere lyrics. People were touched by my genuine honesty and vulnerability.

 

I felt courageous when I first started performing; I hadn’t performed much when I was younger. Because I had not sung or played my guitar for thirty years, it was completely new territory for me. My heart would pound like a freight train and sometimes my voice was so shaky that I would hear myself croak. I dedicated myself to performing because I was passionate about my music. Within a few months, my panic was replaced with calmness and the desire to simply sing from my heart with passion.

 


As I patiently waited for my turn, I closed my eyes and searched for emotions that would help me find my “vibe,” another word for the “mood” of a song. My eyes closed as I recalled song lyrics that filled my mind with vivid imagery. I pictured my words traveling through a filter deep within my heart before they exited my mouth. Sometimes I cried when I sang. There were still a few minutes left before it was my turn to perform and it was time for me to remember Jason . . .

Jason was my beautiful, first-born child. In 1992, he died following open-heart surgery and was frozen in time at the age of 5. Even though I was given excellent odds for him to survive his surgery, I had a premonition that his life was very delicate and his time on earth precious.

 

He was so small and had tousled curly locks of light brown hair. His freckles were like cinnamon speckles dusted over his face. Clear blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and he had an infectious, sweet giggle. When I held him, he felt connected to me. I was his comfort and he was mine. He would gently rest his head upon my shoulder and I could feel his heart beating next to mine.

 

 

 

I preferred to remember him that way, because for such a long time I had traumatic flashbacks instead. The familiar torment I had learned to live with was a reminder of how death stole him from me. I remembered how I used to play my song “Beside Me Always” for other bereaved parents. With that thought, grief once again began to rip through my heart. I allowed for it because I knew it would help me find the vibe I needed for my song.

 

My flashback was sharp and felt like a razor blade cutting into my heart. All of the emotions surrounding Jason’s death overwhelmed me . . .

 

I traveled back in time to shortly before Jason’s funeral would begin. I sat on a hard, cold bench in a stupor. Beside me were my parents and my husband. We had all taken medication offered to us by a good friend whose husband was a psychiatrist. My friend wanted so desperately to help me and arranged to quickly get me a sedative the day after Jason died. I never liked taking any kind of medication. But I took those pills and freely shared them with my family; all of us had no idea how to survive the pain of grief.

 

Being in shock was eerie and I felt like it wasn’t possible for me to be living the nightmare I was experiencing. The image of Jason’s dead face from two days earlier haunted every waking moment. As I sat waiting for the funeral to begin, I was desolate. My courage evaporated because I had an opportunity to see Jason one last time before his coffin was closed.

 

I wasn’t able to do it.

 

I gave my husband instructions and handed him a few items to leave inside the coffin:  Jason’s favorite pacifier and some special pictures. I was glad I hadn’t denied Jason his pacifier at the age of five; it gave him comfort. His life was so short that it hadn’t mattered whether he outgrew the habit.

 

My husband came back after saying his last goodbye to our son, and I needed to hear about what I had been unable to do. His statement caused me to imagine things that were probably worse than if I had actually been there. I gasped when he explained that the pacifier could not fit into Jason’s stiff mouth. His teeth were clenched too tightly. My husband said that instead he placed it into Jason’s tiny, curled fingers.

 

Salty tears started to collect in my throat. I needed to control my thoughts now or I might not sing well. My name was announced and it was my turn to sing. I stood up, walked over to the microphone and readied myself to begin.

 

As I took a deep breath, a gentle softness filled my heart.

 

He was beside me.

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This was written during my first year of bereavement.

This link is audio of my voice teacher, Peaches, and I discussing my performance.

MY LESSON WITH PEACHES ON 8/24/11- DISCUSSING BESIDE ME ALWAYS

© 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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SO MANY YEARS WENT BY

Posted on August 23, 2011 by Judy

My college art teacher, Nancy Ohanian.

“Feeling doubtful and uncertain is poison to the soul”

Many people long to go back to when they were young. I truly don’t, although there are a few exceptions, such as my eyesight. I never had great acuity due to my severe nearsightedness.

 

However, something I took very much for granted when I was much younger was my clear vision. Unfortunately, while in my thirties I developed gray floaters that clouded my eyesight. They are ugly, distracting and have worsened over time. I have had no choice but to accept them. I must regularly see a retinologist.

 

On top of the many years of my life “stolen” by grief, there are many other parts of my youthful life I wouldn’t want to revisit. During my twenties, I was extremely ambitious and focused upon succeeding as an artist; I would not consider myself that happy. In addition, I was often filled with doubt and uncertainty.

 

There are not many things about being younger that I long for. I far prefer my current life.

 

I also believe feeling doubtful and uncertain is poison to the soul. 

There is nothing more inspiring for me than believing in myself.

This charcoal drawing was an assignment in Nancy’s class for a record album cover.

“If I close my eyes”

If I close my eyes, I can access a special memory from my days in college.

 

I loved my college experience, even though I led a sheltered life. I lived at home and drove to college every day. I had numerous boyfriends and several evenings a week I went folk dancing. I was very close with my girlfriends and definitely lived a musical life.

 

I was not that “academic minded.” I did not apply myself to most of my classes and simply did what I needed to do to get by. By my third year in college, I felt the pressure of deciding upon a major. It was stressful for me to make such a huge decision about my future. I was not ready.

 

I have a twenty-year-old son. Recently, I could really feel his pain when he was faced with the difficult decision of choosing his major in college.

 

Even with my artistic talent from childhood, I never felt that it was viable for me to become an artist. I did not really enjoy art that much and it had been on my back burner for a long time.

 

I had taken a few college art classes, and none of them were enjoyable. Even though I truly did not consider it an option as a major, I felt perhaps I needed to explore art a little further. During that third year, I enrolled in two art classes: a beginning watercolor and an illustration course.

 

Watercolors inspired me and became my chosen medium immediately. I fell in love with my paintbrush, my paper, and all the control I suddenly found. I harnessed the watercolor technique so quickly that it was amazing even for the instructor.

 

With my beginning illustration course, I struggled at first. Because I was still learning the watercolor medium, I was not adept enough to express myself. I had to use other techniques, which included drawing and it was very frustrating for me. On my first assignment, I received a “C.”

 

With that grade, I was slightly discouraged, but also very motivated. The other students in my class seemed so talented and I wanted to improve. Mostly, I was impressed with my instructor and wanted to rise to the challenge. Clearly, she gave me a “C” because she thought I could do better.

 

My teacher, Nancy Ohanian, had her work published every week in the editorial section of The Los Angeles Times. I was amazed that she was my teacher. She was always very friendly and encouraging; I really liked her. There was something touching about her also. She was very open, while at the same time extremely shy and vulnerable. She described herself as a “loner.”

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Nancy’s style has evolved over the years I’ve known her. What I remember most were her pen and ink portraits.

The semester went by, and soon my very first illustration class would be over.

 

Over that semester, my technique had improved a thousand fold. It was truly unbelievable. I harnessed watercolors as if I had painted with them my whole life. I now received “A’s” from Nancy. However, I had not forgotten about receiving that “C,” so I worked extra hard to be sure I did my best.

 

Suddenly, I realized I was applying myself to something!

 

As I sit typing these words on my computer, I am stopping to close my eyes and access my special memory . . .

 

It was on a “critique day.” A critique day was when all the students put their assignments on the wall and Nancy spoke about each illustration one by one. I had finished my assignment very late the prior evening. My heart pounded in anticipation of what my teacher would say.

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A travel poster I painted while in Nancy’s beginning illustration class.

I was pleased because my painting came out well. All the students in the class crowded around it. I received so much wonderful feedback, especially from my teacher. I felt euphoric.

 

When the class ended, Nancy came over to tell me again what a great job I had done. We were talking for quite awhile after that. Soon I noticed the classroom was empty, and it was only the two of us.

 

As I remembered the moment when she started to tell me things that took my breath away, my special memory swept through my heart.

 

I listened to her words raptly. As I walked out of that classroom, I felt like I was about to burst with the knowledge of what she said to me. I willed myself to stay calm.

 

However, I was overcome with so much emotion carrying my teacher’s words inside. That night, I wrote in my diary about the experience in order to release it. It was such huge moment in my life; I was certain of that.

 

If I could describe my emotion, it would be amazement that my teacher was certain my future was limitless and success was just around the corner for me.

 

Yesterday, I had that exact same feeling as I faced my former teacher in my studio!

 

She sat in a chair across from me while I serenaded her on my guitar. Upon the walls of my studio were many of my paintings. At the age of fifty-one, I could enjoy the knowledge that all of my artistic ventures came true.

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This picture was taken a few years after I graduated; in 1983. Nancy and I went on a hike.

“It’s as if your heart is outside your body”

I wrote this story; because there were few words to describe the thrill of seeing my college art teacher, Nancy, after at least twenty years.

 

Even though we lived on separate coasts, it didn’t matter. From the very beginning, I shared my musical journey with her. I always emailed her my songs and stories, and we had stayed close. She often watched me perform on the Internet at Kulak’s Woodshed, an open mic venue that broadcast the performers on the web.

 

On Sunday, Nancy and I had a wonderful lunch together and we both giggled incessantly. After lunch, she came back to my home. I raced upstairs to bring down my guitar. I closed the doors to my art studio and opened the case. Nancy sat across from me and said she would listen for as long as I wanted to play. I closed my eyes and sang song after song.

 

With her eyes shining she said, “Judy, when you sing there is such an aura of beauty flowing from you. It’s as if your heart is outside your body.”

 

I relished those moments singing for her.

 

How interesting it was for me to hurtle through time and have the exact same emotions I did on that day when she banished my doubts about whether I would become an artist. For a few months now, I have not had any doubt about the success of my journey.

 

Still, sharing my passion with my teacher after so many years was definitely a highlight in my life!

 

Below is a link to another story about Nancy:

 

MY TEACHER & INSPIRATION IN MY LIFE 



On Aug 22, 2011, Judy wrote:

 

Oh Nancy, I LOVED YOUR VISIT!

 

I have been very excited about everything surrounding our wonderful time together. I plan to write a whole post about it. That’s why I didn’t write much on my last post.

 

You can’t imagine how beautiful it was for me to share myself with you by singing. I am still looking over to the chair where you were sitting. I feel like you’re right back here sitting with me now! I’ll let you know when I finish and post my story. Here are the pictures that certainly tell the story without any words!

 

Love you,

Jude

 

On Aug 22, 2011, Ohanian, Nancy L. wrote:

Just got home from my most wonderful trip to LA….because of YOU!!!! Hahaha!!

 

Judy, I’m still smiling and laughing thinking of some of the funny things we talked about. I don’t think it is any particular subject that is making me smile, just the whole bunch of (almost) parallel issues we are both facing at the moment.Hahahaha!! Isn’t this life just the craziest thing?

 

Love the pics. I will cherish them and the time we spent together yesterday. I had the most wonderful time with you, Judy.


I LOVED LOVED LOVED hearing you and watching you sing from your deepest heart. It was sooo honest and touching and deeply satisfying to see you so happy and REAL. YOU ARE ONE OF THE MOST GIFTED SWEET LOVING HONEST PEOPLE I HAVE EVER KNOWN. I am sooooo blessed to know you as my sweet friend.

 

Thank you for sharing your Kulak’s recording! I LOVED watching you in my mind. I just thought about us sitting together in your studio and a big smile appeared. Very sweet. As I listened to your recording today from Kulak’s, I was thinking about how intensely deep your grief was/is. It’s beyond anything I could ever imagine in my deepest, deepest heart and soul.

 

Yet, you are opening like a beautiful flower.

 

I have often thought about how fearless a baby is. How they are born so pure and unafraid. They are born connected to eternity and full of the power of love because of that fearlessness. We are told that we need to become like little children to capture eternity, to capture the power and potential we were created for. As your life is revealing to everyone, fear was the only wall that separated you from reaching your potential. As you become less fearless, you will allow more of the power of the universe to take you to your potential.

 

That is a lesson for all of us. Fear seeps into our lives in so many ways. As we become aware of the different fears we have, we can shed them and, as a result, blossom like a beautiful flower in springtime.

 

That’s you, a beautiful flower in springtime.

 

Love Nano

 

XXX 

 

Oh, Nanc! I love your message.

 

It is so pertinent to all that I’ve been feeling. I’ve noticed how I’ve been writing more and more the words “I am not afraid!”

 

You are right that it is fear that is a major barrier to human potential. You couldn’t have said it better with your beautiful lesson about fearlessness.

 

I love you!!!! 

 

Judy


My diary entry about Nancy in 1979.

© 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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SADNESS WENT AWAY

Posted on August 22, 2011 by Judy
Judy smiling at the beach

My daughter took this picture of me last week in Carpinteria. I did not take out any wrinkles (I’m 51). Okay, I did Photoshop out the oil rigs and swimmers behind me!

 

Below is a link to the story of “Music From Her Heart,” for which this post was named:

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Story behind MUSIC FROM HER HEART

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“She didn’t believe sorrow would leave”

 

It was very painful for me to see my father in agony when I visited him at the hospital on Saturday night. He adamantly told me he was done with hospitals and procedures. He said he was ready to die would not endure any further surgeries.

 

Although I could have argued more with him about his decision, I listened instead. He moaned in terrible pain, and those moments made me cry. When he begged me to understand his feelings and not be discouraged, I told him I would try.

 

It was very sad for me to see my father in this condition.

 

He said, “Is there any way for you to drive me back to the facility if I could be released sooner than Monday?” I told him I was willing to do whatever he wanted.

 

As I left the hospital, I quickly attached myself to my IPod. The melodies of my “musical elixir” spread throughout my body and soon my pain was gone. I floated into the sky above me as I walked to my car.

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Normally, when I see younger pictures of my parents I say, “I’d like to remember them this way.” However, with this glamor shot – they never looked like this!

“She found her insight”

 

On Sunday morning when I saw Connie, I was beaming. I hugged her tightly and felt so close to her. My heart was overflowing.

 

I had many things to tell her; my prior week had been very full. Even though my life was quite busy, my overall mood was one of clarity and calmness. I felt upbeat, and was amazed at how well I was coping with my father’s situation.

 

I shared with Connie that on my way to our appointment, I had received a very exciting call. My college art teacher, Nancy, was visiting Los Angeles from New Jersey. She invited me to have lunch. After my appointment with Connie, I would see Nancy.

 

I had not seen Nancy in at least twenty years!


I described to Connie how I visualized myself dealing with my current life. I used the metaphor of running a marathon. I had abundant energy and as I encountered horrific roadblocks in my path, I continued running. I was also running through long, dark tunnels. But my focus was on the beautiful sunlight streaming through and awaiting me at the end of those tunnels. As I ran, music played for me. I had an angel on my shoulder.

 

I shared with Connie how a few days earlier, a good friend had listened to a portion of some audio stories from my book. My friend called me immediately after listening to Jason’s story. She was very emotional and said forcefully, “I must have the rest of your book. As we drove to San Diego, my whole family was totally mesmerized and crying as we listened to your voice. We all felt as if we were right there with you!”

 

Despite the challenges I continued to face, I loved my journey. It was easy for me to stay positive with all the encouragement I continued to receive surrounding my writing and music, I told Connie.

 

As I left her guesthouse, I beamed and marveled at my blessed existence.

–

“The editor and my editing”

This coming Thursday, I will be meeting with my editor. While I’ve been waiting to get her feedback on my book, I’ve been devoting myself to creating new vocals for many of my songs. I am especially pleased with how much my theme song, Music From Her Heart has improved.

 

Just like when I learned Photoshop, I have become very adept at working on the computer with my digital vocal recordings. I paste miniscule areas of vocals to replace words and syllables that don’t have what I consider my best tone.

 

In the end, it only works well with lyrics that have “the vibe.” The best vocal technique is completely bland if I don’t inject total feeling into my lyrics. Unfortunately, singing in a hot closet doesn’t always bring out my best vocals, but I do love singing!

 

Also, my improvement is something that I could never, ever have imagined in a million years!

 

Below is an example of how I work with vocals on Garage Band. I can now identify the sound of words by their shape, which makes it easier to replace them. I simply drag words that I’ve sung better from other tracks onto a “Main Line” track. I plan to learn Protools soon.

–

This is exactly how a vocal line looks. I listen closely to every line I sing in my songs. No more “pitchy stuff!” The “S” sound is a pain, especially if it is loud and sibilant (or hissy); visually they are oval with spikes.

For fun, I am sharing an example of how I still utilize Photoshop with a photo where I told my tennis friends I could get us all in one picture.

The two “before” pictures. My tennis friends from left to right; Lori, me, Debby, and Silvina.

I made sure to soften Debbie’s arm and add some shadow onto Silvina. I fixed the background, too, since the leaves were a different color between the two photos.

On Aug 21, 2011, Sam wrote:

 

Hi Judy, I would try to get those stones out ASAP…all of them.  They are probably the source of his recurrent infections.  Sam

 

Hi Sam,

 

I wondered what your thoughts were.

 

I would imagine his catheter is also another source for his infections. He will still have the prostate problem and catheter once the stones are removed.

 

He’s in a lot of pain from his two, “less invasive” procedures this week. It’s hard to convince him to go through even more pain in order to get better. I said, “Dad, if you want to die quickly then just do the surgery. It could happen, but at least there’s a chance for a better life.”

 

I sure wish his surgeon had succeeded. He guaranteed my father he was going to succeed the second time. My dad now feels his ego was involved; this doctor wanted to prove he could succeed unlike the first surgeon. Unfortunately, he achieved the same result after two attempts, as well.

 

Hopefully, my dad will change his mind. He sure hates being in a hospital, though. He says they wake him up ever twenty minutes and he has been unable to rest at all. Thanks for your advice, as always!

 

Take care, Judy

 

Message last night to my brothers:

 

I just got back from seeing dad. I know you wanted an update. It’s hard for me to write anything positive; I’m feeling discouraged.

 

Dad was very uncomfortable and seething at his situation. He said he’s all done with hospitals. He said, “I’m ready to die; I don’t want anything else done for me anymore.” Then he begged me to take him out as soon as possible. He told me that if I would get him released and drive him back to his nursing facility, he would be forever grateful. I’m willing to drive him if he’s released. Actually, I think he can be released if I sign a paper saying we release the hospital of any liability.

 

I tried to talk him into having more surgery, but to no avail. Dad told me not to be discouraged. I really didn’t know what to say.

 

Love, Judy

Ps. I’m sad.

 

Don’t sign the release. Dad may be discouraged but his reaction is impulsive. Once he is well and this is behind him he can get on with his life. Howard

 

Hi How,

 

Dad can sign his own release; he’s of sound mind. He called me and said he didn’t want to burden me by driving him to his facility. He will probably be released tomorrow.

 

He is very happy to get out of the hospital. It’s his life and his choice to decide what he wants to do.


Love, Judy

–

My father has had enough.

© 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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