Circles.

Alas, I am not dead. Hence the post. I have not been feeling particularly well. Hence the lack of posts.

My aunt's death has put Death back on the front burner. I don't know if you have noticed all of the recent celebrity deaths, but Death is definitely not on a holiday. And then there have been all of the natural disasters ripping up the Midwest claiming lives and it all has been making me think about Death. Yeah, it has been a bundle of laughs here.

I don't write when I get all depressed and morose. Honestly, I think it is unattractive. And I think my perspective gets all messed up. So, my tendency is to ride it out until it makes any kind of sense to me.

Had I posted a couple of weeks ago, you would have gotten something like "even my dog doesn't love me anymore." And that is true. But, I hadn't reasoned out the whys and wherefores and it just sounds pitiful. I know I would have rolled my eyes reading something like that. So, I couldn't write it. Instead, I had to figure it out.

I think it all came together for me yesterday. Let me walk you through it.

On the way to my vestibular rehab appt. we were driving through downtown, and my mom pointed out to me a cluster of homeless people that always hang out in front of the Goodwill Store near the bridge. Different people. Both sides of the road. The location is approximate. We wondered if they slept under the bridge. It looked like rain. The bridge seemed like a good spot to get out of the rain. It occurred to me that these were likely some of the people very much in need of my Big Idea. I wondered how many, if any, were sick and homeless. They all looked defeated. I knew how they felt and I had a place to live. I honestly couldn't imagine trying to survive without an address.

When we moved back to GA, my parents set up a gate keeping the dogs out of the bedrooms. My study and bedroom are both behind the gated area. My parents have taken over the feeding of the dogs. About the only time I come out is to eat dinner. My dog, Shelby, used to sleep with me. She followed me around like the Pied Piper. Now she follows my mom around like the Pied Piper unless my stepdad is dealing with food (because he bribes them). My mom says it is just a proximity issue and I need to spend more time with her. True. I am figuring out ways around that.

As I was lying in bed last night, I couldn't help but think of funerals and then those homeless people and then myself. Circles. Circles. Circles. And the line from The Beatles song The End. "And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make." Well, I have to be perfectly honest. It started out as a pity party. I felt very sorry for myself and all of the people I had lost who were already on The Other Side. And then I felt very sorry for myself that my world of real friends and loved ones just kept getting smaller. Yes, I was thinking about my funeral and how few attendees there would be. And the kicker: most of them would be there to support my mother. Yes, I was really feeling sorry for myself. The pity party was in full swing.

And that was when Revelation struck. That is what Illness does. It shrinks your world. It weakens your battery so that it is always running on LOW and you only have very little to give. It requires that you focus all of your energy on getting well, staying alive, trying to get better, and giving what kindness you have to the care provider who is helping you (if you have any sense at all). It doesn't give you much to work with in terms of giving. It isolates. And it makes you feel horribly alone. And unloved. It is excellent for that. One of the worst things disease does is makes a person feel unloved. Of course, it is a product of the wheel turning round and round. The person does it to themselves because they only have so much to give and they just stop reaching out. They don't have it in them anymore. And one day they are alone. Homeless. Standing under a bridge or in front of a Goodwill Store.

Whenever I have these Horrible, Down In The Gutter, Somebody Please Shoot Me Already periods, I know it is for a reason. I need to see a bigger picture. If I am going to build houses for sick, homeless people, I need to know what they are feeling. I need to know what they are going through. Yeah, they are sick. They have been undiagnosed. They are frustrated. Most importantly.... I need to know their hopelessness. Today I needed to know that they feel Unloved. They used to have a life. However, their battery kept getting lower and lower, so they did what they had to do. They stayed alive. But they lost everyone. And one day they woke up alone. And now they are looking back and wondering, "How in the world did that happen? I used to have friends. Family. But I bet no one will even come to my funeral. I have become someone that no one cares about. I am just another homeless person."

Healing a person is more than just about figuring out what went wrong with a medical diagnosis. Yes, it is imperative to heal their body. But, that is no good if there is no understanding of how they are feeling. My goal is to give them their life back... just as good or better than it was.

So... another part of this journey is getting MY life back. Figuring out how to do it. It is obviously another part of the program. You aren't well until you get your life back. And incorporating those steps has to be a part of your recovery as you are ready to make them. As your battery gains life, that has to be part of your "program." It will feel strange. Some people will be out of the social loop for a few years. Some for many years. It will simply depend on how long they have been sick. I imagine the longer they have been sick and their battery has been "low," the more difficult it will be. Interestingly enough, perhaps the better it will feel.


image found on facebook.com

If You Mean It, Say It.

This is going to be a quick one. For those of you who want the uplifting post, check out my last one... HERE'S TO YOU MONDAY. It was my old-style HERE'S TO YOU post with dedications. For those of you just wanting the dirt, well there isn't much to tell except the update on my aunt.

She passed away yesterday at 11am. It was a relief. Her organs were shutting down. She was no longer responsive. She had stopped drinking fluids several days before. Her temperature was spiking and she was feverish because her body could no longer control it. The doctors gave her liquid stuff at first and then suppositories, but the latter were painful for her, due to the bone cancer. However, when she stopped being able to swallow there was no other choice.

I knew that she was going when she came to me in a dream the night before and we said our good-byes. I was pretty deeply asleep and don't recall much of the specifics. I do know that she helped work out some of my issues that I was carrying around about my father's death (still). Amazing how we drag that baggage around. I was finally able to let that go and it was a relief. It also gave me some much-needed perspective about what was going on here. There was this part of me that was feeling very left out that I kept missing out on my personal good-bye with her no matter how much time I spent at the hospital. And I was mad about it. It expressed itself as frustration and disappointment, but I was mad.

The times that I did see her she she didn't know me. And that hurt. Every time I felt close to getting my shot at good-bye she didn't know who I was. Everyone else in the family had this big closure and I was walking around feeling extremely left out. You see, we do need closure. As human beings, we crave it. That is the only consolation to a death like this is the getting the chance to say the unsaid things. But I wasn't getting to say them because she never knew who I was. And I was pissed. Other people who hadn't lived here for twenty years and spent near as much time with her had gotten what I missed.

Life just isn't fair. How many times did my dad say that to me when I was a kid? Well, if I a had a nickel I would be a rich woman.

After I had that dream, it all stopped mattering. Life isn't fair. But her spirit knew who she missed her good-byes with and she was making the rounds. I wasn't left out.

Isn't that what we fear the most? Being left out. Not important enough for that last good-bye. You see, I am lucky. I am blessed. God has given me this gift that I remember my dreams. I know who from the Other Side (or almost Other Side) comes to visit me and I remember. And maybe she knew that. Or not. But, I wasn't unimportant. And we had this amazing conversation that I can't quite recall, but I remember enough of to make this huge difference in my life.

Just like all of the conversations with my dad after he has passed have made this huge difference in my life.

My aunt has told me hundreds of times that she loves me. Every single one of those times was just as important as that last time. Yet, it is the last time we remember because it is the LAST time. The lesson here is that we need to start saying it more if we mean it. You never know when the last time will be the last time. Every time is important. Not everyone remembers when their dead relatives visit them in their dreams to give them that closure that they desperately need. So, if they EVER said it and truly meant it, then it counts. You made a difference. You were loved.


image found at www.weheartit.com

DAY 25: THE WORST OF TIMES

Dear Teachers,

This letter is supposed to go out to a person going through the worst of times. Here's the thing about that: everyone goes through the worst of times at some time. It is you, the teacher, that doles out the pain. Granted, it is we, the student, that signed up for the class. You must understand that sometimes you sign up for a class not knowing how hard it is going to be; in theory, it looks not so bad, but the reality is that it slices you open, and you just don't know how you will ever get through it. I know that there are no takebacks once you sign up for the class; no drop/adds. I get it, but teacher, I have to tell you that sometimes your class is a biotch.

For instance, right now I am aware of several people grieving the loss of beloved family members. One of them is grieving the loss of a child, and the other is grieving the loss of a matriarch. Another family is struggling because they have a child who has a very rare disease. At this point, there is no cure in sight because the disease is so rare. Each day is a struggle that transcends tough time. There are so many families who have children with ADHD. For those families it is a tough time all of the time. Another online friend posted that her husband was laid off from his job and she was very worried. Their belt was already very tight. What were they going to do? Times were already tough.

Insofar as I know, there is an online friend who still hasn't been diagnosed, but has been in unbearable pain for months now. She described it as being on fire. I would call that a tough time. A friend of mine in Florida lost four family members to various death/accidents within the last year, two of them were her children, and now her grandchildren live with her. She has a brain tumor, and worries about who will take care of them when she passes. I consider that a tough time.

My mother's best friend has Parkinson's disease and it is getting worse. She also has cancer. The cancer seems to be getting better, but the Parkinson's is not. She is convinced that her husband and children are conspiring to kill her. For the record, they are not trying to kill her. They love her very much. My mom's other best friend's son also was diagnosed with cancer. He had surgery and is now going through chemo and radiation. The cancer was a very aggressive one and so is the chemo and radiation. His ex-girlfriend is taking him to court to try and take away his business and home since he is in this weakened position. Yeah, she's a prize.

My brother and sister-in-law have remodeled the first floor of their house so that her parents could move in. Her mother is ill and was living in a nursing home. Her father was not doing well living alone. This solved both problems. However, it will make life very different for my brother and sister-in-law. My mom talked to him yesterday. They moved in this past weekend and he was already stressed to the max. I really hope things settle down for them soon.

I know that all of you heard about the miners in Chile who were trapped for months and finally were rescued. All of them were rescued! For a long time they had it really tough, but people refused to give up hope. In fact, people were brought in to solve this problem and those miners were saved. The only thing that gets people through a tough time is hope. That is it. You lose that and you have lost the war. So, when the tough time finds you, and it will find you, hold on to Hope and don't let go.

Me





image pirated from Miss Angie at My So-Called Chaos

EIGHT TO THE EIGHT TO THE EIGHT AGAIN!

It seems like a lifetime ago, but I tagged Purple Cow, at Australian in Athens, with 8 questions to answer. I totally forgot about it when she didn't answer them. Then, for no good reason, she decided that yesterday would be a good day to tackle that project. I was thrilled until she tagged me back. There is a penalty for that I am certain somewhere in The Blogger's Handbook. If I could find mine I would cite it and call her out. Anyway, she answered my eight questions and then created eight of her own, per the rules, and tagged eight people, including me. Which I am sure is illegal.

I am still participating in the letter writing challenge. Tomorrow, however, is Inspirational Song Saturday, which I am totally looking forward to, and if you haven't dropped in on one of them, I hope you will. I always pick one song/video that is inspirational to me in that moment. And then I highlight an artist/band from the 80s that rocked MTV. Yeah... that was back when they actually played music on MTV pretty much 24/7. My focus is the videos that used the weight of video to give their song forward momentum on the radio. A well done video had the potential to move a song up the charts faster than say... just a concert video. We have already looked at some of the masters: Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Duran Duran (blowing kisses at John Taylor). Okay, I am over that. But, there is still a lot of territory to cover and it is so much fun.

Let's move on to Purple Cow and her questions...

1) Why do you blog? Have the reasons changed as you've been doing it?

Ironically enough, I wrote an entire blog devoted to this subject matter. Obviously, I have a lot to say about it. I suppose if you care enough about the answer you can click here to read it because I am not retyping it.


2) Why do they ask "What animal are you most like?" at job interviews? And what could they possibly learn about the person being interviewed when they ask this question? (Also feel free to share any other stupid questions you've been asked at job interviews).

I have never been asked what animal I am most like in a job interview and that is good news, because I am sitting here sifting through all of the information in my brain and coming up empty. That would not look good in a job interview. Probably a bear. They are seriously protective of their young or even those in their protection. I am not real knowledgeable on wild animals, but they strike me as the do what is necessary kind of animal. Not the kind to back down from a fight if they feel threatened or they are protecting their family. So, I will go with the bear.

One real question that I did get asked that wasn't a stupid question, but to which I gave a stupid answer was this one: "What would be your ideal job?"

Without thinking, I said, "I would love to write novels."

I was applying for a commission sales job to sell maintenance supplies. Not the right answer, but I got the job anyway. Turns out I loved it. Not as much as writing, but I really did like that job.


3) If you were to arrange a rendezvous with your 18-year-old self what would you say to yourself? How much would you have in common? Would you accuse yourself of something?

I would have a lot to say. All of it would take me off of this lifepath. However, I now see why I am here. Every rotten experience that I would dearly love to tell 18 year old me to avoid has contributed to the person that I am today. If I were to do that, I wouldn't be the same person sitting here typing this answer. I wouldn't be the person with this Big Idea that the world needs so much. I suppose I would just hug her and tell her that she will go through a lot of crap. However, it will be alright. There will be lots of days when it won't feel like it, but it will be alright.


4) Imagine me? What do I look like? (Skip this one Robin as you've already seen me on FB)

I try to imagine what your life is actually like. I know what you look like. But your day-to day life still stymies me somewhat. For instance, I wonder how many people in your real life actually know you. I imagine many of them think that they know you. But, do they really? You appear to be this working woman with children and a husband living a fairly ordinary life. Do they know how smart you are? Do they know how well you write? Do they have any idea how you think? Do they know the real you or just the superficial you? The nice, pleasant facade that you show to the world. We all have one. How many people in your real life actually know you? This is what I imagine when I think of you. I think the number is fairly small, which is why you started blogging in the first place. It is also the reason I can't understand why you would want to quit. To go back to just being the you before you started blogging. That is what I imagine when I think of you.


5) Have you ever surprised yourself with your own wickedness?

Unfortunately, yes. Usually I was drunk and my better sense had deserted me. Where does that better sense go? I am not getting into details here because it is well.... wicked.


6) What makes you special and different from this blob called humanity?

I think everyone is special and different. We are all given gifts. The trick is figuring out what your gift is and then using it. Of course, you can use your gift for good or ill. I suppose I should say gifts, because it is certainly possible, and often necessary, to have more than one. I was being general and you asked about me specifically. I have a gift for sales. I am good at that. I see the problems in our healthcare system that extend beyond insurance. For people who are chronically ill and misdiagnosed or undiagnosed, it can be devastating if it goes on long enough. I understand that because I lived that. I plan to take those two gifts and put them together to create a solution to that problem. That is what makes me special. I am going to then reach out my hands to all of you and ask you to reach out and so on and so on. It is all about assisting people in their journey from illness to wellness.


7) Do you ever wonder if you are wrong about everything you currently believe and hold to be true? And if it turns out that none of it is as it seems would you wish to be told the TRUTH a minute before you die or die not knowing at all?

No. I don't wonder if I am wrong about everything I believe is true. If I have some things wrong, I would just as soon die believing them if they make me happy. If, for instance, I believed something about someone that was or wasn't true and it made me sad or unhappy, I would rather know the truth before I died. It would be a truth that gave me peace. Any truth that gives peace or relief, I would rather know.


8) So how come it's 8 questions? Why not 5, 7 or 10? Why 8? Do you want more or do you wish you'd had less?

Beats me. That was just how it rolled out. I am glad that there aren't any more!


Okay, people, the rules are that you are supposed to make up eight questions and pass this on to eight people. I have already done this twice. I am not doing it again. However, if you are looking for some blog material, haven't done this yet and want to, or just feel bored, you can have at it. Just use Purple Cow's questions, pick eight people, and make up eight questions of your own.


image found at www.weheartit.com

DAY 11: LETTER TO SOMEONE WHO HAS PASSED

Dear Grandma,

I have been thinking about this letter for three days. Not so long ago, it would have been a whole different letter. It would have been more like this: since you are on The Other Side, how about you send me down some enlightenment about my life? Everything is sucking and I really need to change this mess. Well, I don't need to write that sort of letter anymore. I am happy to tell you that I figured that one out all by myself. Since you are on The Other Side I know that you are keeping tabs on me and are aware of what is going on here. You also know the direction my life is supposed to take, and are rooting for me to have my head in the right place, so that it goes as planned. I am focusing on that really hard. It feels good to direct my energy forward in a positive way.

I know that you know this, but on Wednesday, I went to court to file my bankruptcy. It went really well, if a person can consider filing bankruptcy to be doing well. Anywhoozle. It occurred to me before and after the event, this was just another stone in my road. In other words, this bankruptcy is likely going to make getting my non-profit off the ground a bit harder. I imagine it would be easier to launch if I didn't have a bankruptcy hanging over my head. On the other hand, that is sort of the point. People who fall through the floor usually end up filing bankruptcy. In order for me to be "right there" with the people I am helping, I have to have walked the same walk. A high percentage of them will have filed bankruptcy. It is all part of it. You lose your health, you lose your job, you lose your health insurance, you lose your house, you lose it all. You fall through the floor. Hello bankruptcy court.

Now that we are caught up on current events, let's talk about what I really wanted to talk to you about. Time. There are so many things that we get another shot at. Time is not one of them. It steadily marches on. I never got enough time with you when you were alive. Worse yet, I didn't fully appreciate the time that I got. When we moved back to Ohio, we saw you more often, because you were only a couple of hours away. That meant we saw you several times a year vs one week a year. You and mom would sit in the living room and talk and laugh. You had so many stories in you and you told them so well. No one crafted a story on the fly better than you. However, I would get tired of listening, because they were mostly about people I didn't know. You had six aunts that I rarely saw, but my mom knew them all very well, and their families, so she could really appreciate the significance of the punch lines. Then there were work stories. My mom had heard about these people for years, and met many of them, so they were also like old friends. They were just a bunch of names to me. After an hour or so, my brain got tired. Besides, I always brought four or five books with me, and one was usually calling my name. I never could resist that siren call.

As I got older, I started bringing homework with me on these trips. It was unbelievable but my teachers would assign homework over the Christmas break. Jerks. So, if it wasn't a book of one kind, it was a book of another taunting me, and taking me away from the laughter in the living room. The sad part was that I didn't really mind. I was on a mission at this point. I was determined to graduate high school with a 4.0 GPA (and I did) because I was going to college as a rockstar. Missing out on some living room talk ~ no big deal.

Except it was. I just didn't know it then. In college, I was better about hanging out with the adults in the living room at Christmas. It was only then that I truly appreciated your ability to weave a story. I thought of all the times I could have been in here listening, but I had chosen to go upstairs and read a book instead. Those four years went so fast. And then my trips home got shorter and shorter. Well, until they got really long for that one year. And then mom and I moved south to Georgia, grandpa died, and you lost your grip on what was real. It didn't take long before you didn't recognize your family, and you created your own language. Amazingly, you were physically in great shape. Your mind was gone, but you lived a long time. How terrifying to wake up every day among people who spoke a language you didn't understand, and see no one you recognized. It was the saddest day when you passed, but it must have been a relief for you.

Back to what I was saying about time. I know that you know I loved you and vice versa. What I didn't get to fully appreciate was you. I am a person who loves stories. I love writing stories, reading stories, and telling stories. Why did it take me so long to appreciate what was right in front of me? You were a natural born storyteller. Not everyone has the gift of timing a funny story just right so that the punchline lands as it should. You did. I was this stupid tween turned teenage girl who would rather read a book upstairs, not understanding that the book would still be there next week or the week after. You would not. We would be at our home and you would be at your home. Soon a day would come when I wouldn't see you but occasionally, because of jobs and time. And then the day would come when you wouldn't know me, or remember your own stories. In fact, you wouldn't remember the language. Time. It isn't never-ending. It ends.

I know that you didn't set out to teach me that lesson, but I got it anyway. As much as I love to read, listen to music, and write, I won't let it take me away from the things that are more important, like spending time with the people that I love and care about while they are here. I have modeled after you in some very unhealthy ways. Grandpa was a verbally abusive man and I married someone just like him. I will never forget that day that I looked in the mirror and I saw you looking back at me. However, I want you to know that isn't the only thing I got from you. We both love to laugh, have big hearts, the same hands, care about other people (perhaps a bit too much), love dogs and kids, and know how to finish with a *bang.*

Love,
Your Lil Gee


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image captured from Miss Angie at My So-Called Chaos