I've been visiting family in Chicago for the past week - for the Christmas holidays - and today Christopher and I are flying back home. While I am happy to have seen and spent time with everybody (especially my brother, who flew in from Hawaii), I am anxious to get back to my own space... where there are more than enough places for me to be by myself.
I wish the Bunny were here... I know I would be more fun to hang around. I would be... happier. Everything seems very discordant to me; I think I am alone way too much already, but it's like I can't function properly around people anymore. Then I think, maybe I never could... maybe the only reason I could behave correctly in a social setting at all was because the Bunny was there to smooth things out. I know this is my self-esteem creeping up on me again... in this, my overly-sensitive emotional state, every comment is an accusation, every question is an attack. Earlier in this trip, my cousin's husband was giving me a little good-natured ribbing (this is what the logical side of my brain tells me), and too many times of snapping back with a "shut UP!" earned me a reprimand from my cousin, who got tired of listening to me. What I should have done was calmly and coherently express the condition of my mental state - that his teasing me was akin to a jelly-fish being poked with a sharp hook - but I didn't do that. Instead, I did what I always used to do... shut down and escape inside my head.
Christopher seems to be having a good time, and I am glad for that. A few days ago it was snowing, and he got to use the snow-blower and even make a snow angel (while I tried to push images of pneumonia and hypothermia out of my head). I've never seen this much snow myself, not to mention while it's actually falling. It's quite a sight. Back home everyone was teasing me about the cold tempuratures in Chicago - normally I am freezing when it hits 70 degrees - but I haven't noticed the cold so much during this visit. Could be because we mostly stay inside the house, and my cousin - unlike myself - keeps the heater turned on. Or maybe compared to the freezing tempuratures, I'm colder to start with.
My life with the Bunny is starting to feel like a dream. I often sit here trying to remember it, and then I stop and question: did it really happen? I look around, and little evidence is left to tell me it was real. Little of my happiness is left to tell me it was real. The zombies have eaten my brain and left a corpse, slowly rotting away... yes, a bit dramatic. But this whole situation sucks so much, I can't even begin to put it into words.
A long time ago I read a story that gave me an image that pops up in times like these. A rabbit was caught in a snare, and the more it struggled, the more the snare choked it. One of the rabbit's companions advised it to stop struggling, and by doing so managed to slip its neck out, and the story continued. Now, the rabbit is me. My story won't continue until I stop struggling.
Easy to say, much harder to do. Hard to know WHAT to do... I need to think awhile about what "stop struggling" means to me.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
"How You Carry It"
"People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain."
- Jim Morrison, American poet and singer, member of the band The Doors
- Jim Morrison, American poet and singer, member of the band The Doors
Sunday, November 29, 2009
By Degrees
A good friend of mine told me recently that an acquaintance of hers had committed suicide. My friend is a voice teacher, and the gentleman in question was one of her students. Apparently this man was dealing with a Parkinson’s diagnosis, had a lot of financial troubles – on the verge of losing his home – I guess it was more than he wanted to deal with. I have been intimately acquainted with suicide – those that have attempted it, and those that have succeeded. It’s an emotional decision that people try to logically justify – I don’t know if you have known any suicidal people in your life, but someone who is contemplating taking his or her life will sit there and “make a list” of all the reasons why suicide makes sense: I can’t hold down a job, my spouse left me, I can’t succeed at anything I do in my life, I can’t get ahead, nobody is having problems like these, nobody understands… nobody will miss me if I am gone.
I tend to think that people just get tired of the struggle. Because that’s what life is a big majority of the time – a series of struggles. The struggles that drive us, inspire us, that strengthen all of our emotional muscles when we overcome whatever adversity happens to be right in front of us at any particular moment. But after a lifetime of struggles, sometimes it just seems to take more energy to keep on living. I guess I can understand those feelings… people tell me all the time I have a lot of energy, but sometimes it feels like it takes a lot of effort to just get out of bed in the morning.
About a year ago, shortly following the Bunny’s death, one of his stepsons, Nicholas – Nick was the middle kid; the oldest stepson Jesse, and of course the Bunny’s son Trevor being the youngest – killed himself. I didn’t know him well, but during our marriage Nick did visit infrequently. He was always respectful, though I knew he was troubled; he had some issues which required ongoing medication and he suffered from Tourette’s syndrome. When the Bunny came into the picture with Trevor’s mom, Nick was barely two years old. Even though both he and his older brother Jesse had different fathers, my understanding is that the boys saw the Bunny as their father figure – he and Trevor’s mother were together for approximately 12 years – the formative years of these boys’ lives.
I saw Nick and Jesse along with Trevor at the Bunny’s services; everyone was concerned about Trevor and how he was handling the loss of his father, but I think back to Nick and Jesse. Both in their mid-twenties, for all intents and purposes “adults,” at least outwardly. Unfortunately the boys all grew up in an environment that encouraged “not sharing innermost feelings” as those things tended to be upsetting to people around them… so I imagine Nick didn’t talk to anyone about what was going on in his head. And because he was overwhelmed with those feelings, the only way he could escape them was to put a gun to it.
I had a conversation with Trevor shortly after these events; I’ve always been on shaky ground as far as my role in Trevor’s life; when I had been dating the Bunny and it was becoming fairly serious, I caused a huge uproar with Trevor's mom by trying to give Trevor a photo album with pictures of us – Trevor, the Bunny, me and my son Christopher – it was constantly held up to me that I was NOT his mother… this was hard to reconcile because Trevor was the only son of the man I loved – how could caring about him and wanting to show him affection be wrong? Anyway, following the death of his father and then his brother, I told Trevor that it was a mistake for Nick to not open up to anyone, to not share what he was thinking and feeling, because in doing so it was too easy for him to convince himself that “nobody cared, nobody understood, nobody would miss me if I were gone…” – if the only voice you listen to is the one in your head, it’s easy to be seduced into believing that voice is truth, reality… and it isn’t always so. That voice can enable you, wanting to protect you, inadvertently creating a cocoon which traps your spirit… and unless something external can break through, like the love and support of people that care about you… you are in danger of losing yourself completely.
I have learned (albiet, painfully) that when things seem their darkest, the best thing to do is wait it out. Because the world will continue turning, and things – as bad as they seem to get sometimes – will change. And those things in turn will cause me to change. Drive me. Inspire me. And when I pull myself through to the other side, I always feel stronger. People are always telling me how strong I am – I like to think of it as stubbornness. Or tenacity. Nothing and nobody is ever going to make me feel SO bad and SO worthless that I would rather be dead. I felt that way a long time ago, and I vowed to never feel like that again. And it’s a vow I intend to keep.
Going through some of the Bunny’s papers recently, I came across a letter Nick wrote to him. It brings tears to my eyes, because now Nick and the Bunny do have something in common – a big, obvious thing. But they have something else: immortality in the minds and hearts of those of us left behind. And for me, it serves as a constant reminder that making connections with the people around me IS the most important thing there is… and in doing this, the one that is saved is myself.
* * *
Dear Dad,
I know we haven’t gotten along in the past. I just hope our relationship will brighten up pretty soon. I long for the day that we can do something together without arguing. Or without regret or interference. There are some days that we can go through without arguing. Usually those are the ones where I am gone most of the day. But I really hope that soon we can just laugh our way through a day and just have fun. It’s kinda hard ‘cause we have almost nothing in common. But I want to look beyond that to what we do have in common. Someday I hope we can do that.
Love,
Nick
I tend to think that people just get tired of the struggle. Because that’s what life is a big majority of the time – a series of struggles. The struggles that drive us, inspire us, that strengthen all of our emotional muscles when we overcome whatever adversity happens to be right in front of us at any particular moment. But after a lifetime of struggles, sometimes it just seems to take more energy to keep on living. I guess I can understand those feelings… people tell me all the time I have a lot of energy, but sometimes it feels like it takes a lot of effort to just get out of bed in the morning.
About a year ago, shortly following the Bunny’s death, one of his stepsons, Nicholas – Nick was the middle kid; the oldest stepson Jesse, and of course the Bunny’s son Trevor being the youngest – killed himself. I didn’t know him well, but during our marriage Nick did visit infrequently. He was always respectful, though I knew he was troubled; he had some issues which required ongoing medication and he suffered from Tourette’s syndrome. When the Bunny came into the picture with Trevor’s mom, Nick was barely two years old. Even though both he and his older brother Jesse had different fathers, my understanding is that the boys saw the Bunny as their father figure – he and Trevor’s mother were together for approximately 12 years – the formative years of these boys’ lives.
I saw Nick and Jesse along with Trevor at the Bunny’s services; everyone was concerned about Trevor and how he was handling the loss of his father, but I think back to Nick and Jesse. Both in their mid-twenties, for all intents and purposes “adults,” at least outwardly. Unfortunately the boys all grew up in an environment that encouraged “not sharing innermost feelings” as those things tended to be upsetting to people around them… so I imagine Nick didn’t talk to anyone about what was going on in his head. And because he was overwhelmed with those feelings, the only way he could escape them was to put a gun to it.
I had a conversation with Trevor shortly after these events; I’ve always been on shaky ground as far as my role in Trevor’s life; when I had been dating the Bunny and it was becoming fairly serious, I caused a huge uproar with Trevor's mom by trying to give Trevor a photo album with pictures of us – Trevor, the Bunny, me and my son Christopher – it was constantly held up to me that I was NOT his mother… this was hard to reconcile because Trevor was the only son of the man I loved – how could caring about him and wanting to show him affection be wrong? Anyway, following the death of his father and then his brother, I told Trevor that it was a mistake for Nick to not open up to anyone, to not share what he was thinking and feeling, because in doing so it was too easy for him to convince himself that “nobody cared, nobody understood, nobody would miss me if I were gone…” – if the only voice you listen to is the one in your head, it’s easy to be seduced into believing that voice is truth, reality… and it isn’t always so. That voice can enable you, wanting to protect you, inadvertently creating a cocoon which traps your spirit… and unless something external can break through, like the love and support of people that care about you… you are in danger of losing yourself completely.
I have learned (albiet, painfully) that when things seem their darkest, the best thing to do is wait it out. Because the world will continue turning, and things – as bad as they seem to get sometimes – will change. And those things in turn will cause me to change. Drive me. Inspire me. And when I pull myself through to the other side, I always feel stronger. People are always telling me how strong I am – I like to think of it as stubbornness. Or tenacity. Nothing and nobody is ever going to make me feel SO bad and SO worthless that I would rather be dead. I felt that way a long time ago, and I vowed to never feel like that again. And it’s a vow I intend to keep.
Going through some of the Bunny’s papers recently, I came across a letter Nick wrote to him. It brings tears to my eyes, because now Nick and the Bunny do have something in common – a big, obvious thing. But they have something else: immortality in the minds and hearts of those of us left behind. And for me, it serves as a constant reminder that making connections with the people around me IS the most important thing there is… and in doing this, the one that is saved is myself.
* * *
Dear Dad,
I know we haven’t gotten along in the past. I just hope our relationship will brighten up pretty soon. I long for the day that we can do something together without arguing. Or without regret or interference. There are some days that we can go through without arguing. Usually those are the ones where I am gone most of the day. But I really hope that soon we can just laugh our way through a day and just have fun. It’s kinda hard ‘cause we have almost nothing in common. But I want to look beyond that to what we do have in common. Someday I hope we can do that.
Love,
Nick
Monday, November 23, 2009
Love Never Dies: December 7, 2008
Hello friends and loved ones,
It saddens me to inform you that our beloved Russell passed away early this morning. His body simply failed him, and the nurses tell me he was not under any unnecessary duress or pain.
Thank you for your prayers and thoughts, and I know he will forever remain in all of the hearts of those who loved him.
Shirley
Sunday, November 22, 2009
December 1, 2008
I want to thank each of you for your prayers and thoughts, and those of you who have sent personal messages, and those who have called, and those who have extended offers of support in these trying times for our family.
Russ has never been a "half-way" sort of guy.. with the things he likes to do or with his family; he's always been pretty opinionated ("stubborn" comes to mind) - of the many things about him which attracts me, I like this one in particular because it's always very clear where he stands, which of course has made for interesting arguments. :-)
All of you may not realize that some years ago (before he and I got together), Russ broke his back - I think it involved some car engine falling on him during some maintenance thing - the jist of this story is that he went to doctor after doctor until he found one that believed that Russ would recover to the point of being able to walk again, ride his bike.. basically be restored to his life prior to the accident. And he succeeded.. Russ went on (with the help of some additional hardware, of course) to walk, work, do centuries (100-mile bike rides) - I think not only a testament to his own fortitude but also of not throwing in the towel even when the majority of people (in this case, doctors) around him were saying something different.
In conversations with a few of you, I have mentioned my internal struggles to balance the doctors' information and prognosis for Russ' long-term recovery, versus the hopes and prayers of all of us who love him. What I've come to understand over the past few weeks is that the doctors have not just been trying to paint a realistic picture tempered with our hopes, but also that their perception is driven by the irrefutable realities of Russ' particular injuries. I have been following the daily updates amongst the family, the continual tracking of the numbers fluctuating - sometimes better, sometimes worse - and certainly from a physical aspect becoming more "stable".. but what I've realized too is the damage to Russ' brain is a) significantly extensive and b) almost assuredly irreversable. While from a certain standpoint it is possible to bring his physical person to a "manageable state" (by manageable I mean sustainable with life support, something Russ was strongly against), the ability for the doctors to affect Russ' capability to ever be aware of the loved ones that surround him has, for all intents and purposes, been compromised beyond any actions on their part.
Having said all that, I don't want you to interpret this message as "all hope is lost" - hope is never lost, and as a proponent of the power of prayer I keep my husband in mine (as I know you do)... whatever the ultimate outcome. Recently I had the opportunity to think back to my life before Russ until today, and while this challenge right now is the worst we've dealt with, I am so thankful he came into my life, because I am a much better person for his influence and care.
The gravity of Russ' condition prompted a conversation between the staff and myself earlier today. I want you each to know that I have told the doctors that should Russ arrest (which is a distinct possibility) for them to not take any extraordinary measures to resucitate him, especially as it appears he will never be able to physically function without the help of life support. This would be unacceptable to the Russ I know and love.. and in these matters I feel it is my obligation as his wife to see through on whatever actions he would choose for himself.
May you all have peace,
Shirley
Russ has never been a "half-way" sort of guy.. with the things he likes to do or with his family; he's always been pretty opinionated ("stubborn" comes to mind) - of the many things about him which attracts me, I like this one in particular because it's always very clear where he stands, which of course has made for interesting arguments. :-)
All of you may not realize that some years ago (before he and I got together), Russ broke his back - I think it involved some car engine falling on him during some maintenance thing - the jist of this story is that he went to doctor after doctor until he found one that believed that Russ would recover to the point of being able to walk again, ride his bike.. basically be restored to his life prior to the accident. And he succeeded.. Russ went on (with the help of some additional hardware, of course) to walk, work, do centuries (100-mile bike rides) - I think not only a testament to his own fortitude but also of not throwing in the towel even when the majority of people (in this case, doctors) around him were saying something different.
In conversations with a few of you, I have mentioned my internal struggles to balance the doctors' information and prognosis for Russ' long-term recovery, versus the hopes and prayers of all of us who love him. What I've come to understand over the past few weeks is that the doctors have not just been trying to paint a realistic picture tempered with our hopes, but also that their perception is driven by the irrefutable realities of Russ' particular injuries. I have been following the daily updates amongst the family, the continual tracking of the numbers fluctuating - sometimes better, sometimes worse - and certainly from a physical aspect becoming more "stable".. but what I've realized too is the damage to Russ' brain is a) significantly extensive and b) almost assuredly irreversable. While from a certain standpoint it is possible to bring his physical person to a "manageable state" (by manageable I mean sustainable with life support, something Russ was strongly against), the ability for the doctors to affect Russ' capability to ever be aware of the loved ones that surround him has, for all intents and purposes, been compromised beyond any actions on their part.
Having said all that, I don't want you to interpret this message as "all hope is lost" - hope is never lost, and as a proponent of the power of prayer I keep my husband in mine (as I know you do)... whatever the ultimate outcome. Recently I had the opportunity to think back to my life before Russ until today, and while this challenge right now is the worst we've dealt with, I am so thankful he came into my life, because I am a much better person for his influence and care.
The gravity of Russ' condition prompted a conversation between the staff and myself earlier today. I want you each to know that I have told the doctors that should Russ arrest (which is a distinct possibility) for them to not take any extraordinary measures to resucitate him, especially as it appears he will never be able to physically function without the help of life support. This would be unacceptable to the Russ I know and love.. and in these matters I feel it is my obligation as his wife to see through on whatever actions he would choose for himself.
May you all have peace,
Shirley
Saturday, November 21, 2009
November 26, 2008
On this Thanksgiving eve, I wanted to tell you that I am very thankful to all of you, for your love and prayers, for valuing your relationship with Russ and me, and for being hopeful that miracles do happen.
Last month Russ, Christopher and I celebrated Russ' 50th birthday in Las Vegas... I had planned the trip as a suprise, and arranged a few activities I thought Russ would enjoy - we saw Blue Man Group, had Russ' birthday dinner at the Delmonico steak house, and Russ spent some time as "Dolphin Trainer for a Day" at the Secret Garden/Dolphin Habitat at the Mirage. He was skeptical at first, and he was horrified at having to wear a wetsuit ("Look how fat I look!!.. don't ever show these pictures to ANYONE!").. but I think when it was all said and done he enjoyed the experience.
As far as Russ' condition it is pretty much the same; he is still in a coma, his numbers go up and down (right now they are lower so that's good), the doctors are in the process of giving him an EEG (brain waves test) although they simply expect the results to support what they see Russ physically doing or not doing.. it's clear the recovery period will be a long one, so I am content with the days passing without any huge swings in either direction (although sitting up and saying "hi" would be GREAT!) because one of those days will mark the end of the weeks and weeks we must patiently wait through to get the prize - Russ completely recovered and returning home to us to resume our happy life.
I also heard from the insurance company, Russ' bike was totaled, so they are handling all of that for me - I'm sure that's one of the first things he will ask about when he wakes up. :-)
At his friend Louie's service on Monday I was reminded of the importance of family, and taking time out of our busy lives to be with the people we love... so my wish for you all is to have a wonderful Thanksgiving with the people YOU love, and remember that now is the time for that visit, that phone call, that repairing of a damaged relationship. Right now. Go!!
Shirley
Last month Russ, Christopher and I celebrated Russ' 50th birthday in Las Vegas... I had planned the trip as a suprise, and arranged a few activities I thought Russ would enjoy - we saw Blue Man Group, had Russ' birthday dinner at the Delmonico steak house, and Russ spent some time as "Dolphin Trainer for a Day" at the Secret Garden/Dolphin Habitat at the Mirage. He was skeptical at first, and he was horrified at having to wear a wetsuit ("Look how fat I look!!.. don't ever show these pictures to ANYONE!").. but I think when it was all said and done he enjoyed the experience.
As far as Russ' condition it is pretty much the same; he is still in a coma, his numbers go up and down (right now they are lower so that's good), the doctors are in the process of giving him an EEG (brain waves test) although they simply expect the results to support what they see Russ physically doing or not doing.. it's clear the recovery period will be a long one, so I am content with the days passing without any huge swings in either direction (although sitting up and saying "hi" would be GREAT!) because one of those days will mark the end of the weeks and weeks we must patiently wait through to get the prize - Russ completely recovered and returning home to us to resume our happy life.
I also heard from the insurance company, Russ' bike was totaled, so they are handling all of that for me - I'm sure that's one of the first things he will ask about when he wakes up. :-)
At his friend Louie's service on Monday I was reminded of the importance of family, and taking time out of our busy lives to be with the people we love... so my wish for you all is to have a wonderful Thanksgiving with the people YOU love, and remember that now is the time for that visit, that phone call, that repairing of a damaged relationship. Right now. Go!!
Shirley
Friday, November 20, 2009
November 21, 2008
Russ' ICP was as low as 12 today (a normal person's ICP is 10 or less, so 12 was very good). Not constantly, mind you, but during my visits I only saw it hit 30 once, and that was because the nurses were suctioning or doing some other thing they had to do. Even though the ICP number is very important and the nurses do whatever they can to keep it low (medications, ice packs around his head, air conditioning on full blast, the lights turned off, etc.), they also have to do things like suction fluid from his lungs, and turn his body to the side every few hours propped up with pillows so he gets enough circulation. Of course those things tend to aggravate the ICP number, so it's a very delicate balancing act of competing needs. But overall, it was a day like the first two, so I was satisfied.
One other note: the ventilator (helping Russ to breathe) originally was at 90% oxygen mix (normal air you and I breathe is about 21% oxygen mix) and is now at around 55% oxygen mix, which means his body is better able to take in the air and oxygenate his blood, which in turn carries oxygen to his brain. So the short answer is that's a positive sign.
I did get a chance to speak with Officer Adams today, and while he really didn't have much additional information to share with regard to the accident, we did speak for a moment about the woman driving the car who hit Louie. As far as I gathered, she wasn't drunk, or on anything; she had seen the two motorcycles pass by, go over the hill, she came over the hill shortly after, and seeing Russ' bike headlight from the shoulder looked around for the 2nd motorcycle. She never saw Louie - she only felt her car hit him. I write this because I can't imagine what she must feel like to know she killed someone in her car... as bad as I feel that he's gone and I know Loretta is devastated, I don't think there is anything that anyone can do to that woman that she isn't going to do to herself, a hundred times over, for the rest of her life. My heart goes out to her... when I say my prayers for Russ and for Louie's family, I can't help but say a few for that poor woman.
Russ' son Trevor arrived earlier this evening from England (where he lives with his mom) and he came to the hospital to see his dad. Before he did, I kept him out in the hall and explained the extent of the injuries, and described what he would see in the hospital room. Trevor listened quietly, and after I felt I had prepared him with enough information, we took him in. I was very proud of him.. if he was distressed (and how could he not be) he didn't show it. I worry about what Trevor is feeling about all of this; but I did tell him that his dad is going to be happy to see him WHEN he wakes up.
I think I am ready to go to updates when we hit some good benchmarks (as opposed to daily), but I appreciate everything you have been doing to keep everyone informed. If at any time you would like to know how Russ is doing just shoot me a message and I will be happy to tell you.
God bless you all,
Shirley
One other note: the ventilator (helping Russ to breathe) originally was at 90% oxygen mix (normal air you and I breathe is about 21% oxygen mix) and is now at around 55% oxygen mix, which means his body is better able to take in the air and oxygenate his blood, which in turn carries oxygen to his brain. So the short answer is that's a positive sign.
I did get a chance to speak with Officer Adams today, and while he really didn't have much additional information to share with regard to the accident, we did speak for a moment about the woman driving the car who hit Louie. As far as I gathered, she wasn't drunk, or on anything; she had seen the two motorcycles pass by, go over the hill, she came over the hill shortly after, and seeing Russ' bike headlight from the shoulder looked around for the 2nd motorcycle. She never saw Louie - she only felt her car hit him. I write this because I can't imagine what she must feel like to know she killed someone in her car... as bad as I feel that he's gone and I know Loretta is devastated, I don't think there is anything that anyone can do to that woman that she isn't going to do to herself, a hundred times over, for the rest of her life. My heart goes out to her... when I say my prayers for Russ and for Louie's family, I can't help but say a few for that poor woman.
Russ' son Trevor arrived earlier this evening from England (where he lives with his mom) and he came to the hospital to see his dad. Before he did, I kept him out in the hall and explained the extent of the injuries, and described what he would see in the hospital room. Trevor listened quietly, and after I felt I had prepared him with enough information, we took him in. I was very proud of him.. if he was distressed (and how could he not be) he didn't show it. I worry about what Trevor is feeling about all of this; but I did tell him that his dad is going to be happy to see him WHEN he wakes up.
I think I am ready to go to updates when we hit some good benchmarks (as opposed to daily), but I appreciate everything you have been doing to keep everyone informed. If at any time you would like to know how Russ is doing just shoot me a message and I will be happy to tell you.
God bless you all,
Shirley
Thursday, November 19, 2009
November 19, 2008
Today was one of those "less good" days, and despite the fact that I was warned of that possibility in advance, it didn't make it any easier to bear.
Russ' intracranial pressure (ICP) number was elevated, and so the medical staff had to stop some lung treatment they were doing (they had Russ strapped to this table that tilts at 60-degree angles from side to side) because the tilting was further aggravating the ICP. He did blink earlier in the day, but I was told that from earlier to later this evening his "gag reflex" was weaker, which indicates "less responsive."
I spoke to his primary doctor, and we talked about things like "how serious" Russ' head injury is, and how his 50-year old body is going to be less resilient than say, a 20- or 30-year old's, and how the chances of him coming out of this without some permanent damage are slim (yes, and exactly how you think I was reacting to this conversation is pretty much how I was reacting). And after blubbering and feeling sorry for myself and Russ all the way home from the hospital, I had a few conversations with friends who reminded me (as I know all of you would remind me) that Russ has the will to get through this, that he's strong, that I can't lose hope even when things look hopeless... it was also pointed out to me that it's part of the doctor's job to make me aware of the possibilities (aka "worst case scenario"), and Russ has made it this far; I think the jury is still out on him.
Tomorrow I will meet with one of the investigating officers from Orange PD and so hopefully get more insight into what happened as far as the accident. I've heard some conflicting (and troubling) details that I want him to clarify for me, including the suggestion that Russ was "intoxicated more than a few beers" which would be completely out of character for both him and Louie; they went on several of these rides and were always very cautious and careful, and I also know from past experience if it came down to it, Russ would have called me if he felt incapable of riding in that situation. I told someone close to me earlier in the week: "Sometimes accidents just happen.." ...even when you do everything right. It would be easy for me to pin the responsibility on someone, or something - anything to give me a REASON why Russ is lying in the hospital with a cracked skull right now, but you know what, having a reason doesn't change the outcome. So reasons are of no importance to me.
I promised you information on Louie's services which will be held at Rose Hills in Whittier. Viewing times are scheduled this Sunday at 5:30pm and 7pm, funeral services are scheduled for 11am Monday. I plan to attend Monday... Louie was a good guy, and he was a good friend to my husband right up until the very last second. I know Russ will be sad to hear he's gone.
I look forward to giving you a better update tomorrow.
Shirley
Russ' intracranial pressure (ICP) number was elevated, and so the medical staff had to stop some lung treatment they were doing (they had Russ strapped to this table that tilts at 60-degree angles from side to side) because the tilting was further aggravating the ICP. He did blink earlier in the day, but I was told that from earlier to later this evening his "gag reflex" was weaker, which indicates "less responsive."
I spoke to his primary doctor, and we talked about things like "how serious" Russ' head injury is, and how his 50-year old body is going to be less resilient than say, a 20- or 30-year old's, and how the chances of him coming out of this without some permanent damage are slim (yes, and exactly how you think I was reacting to this conversation is pretty much how I was reacting). And after blubbering and feeling sorry for myself and Russ all the way home from the hospital, I had a few conversations with friends who reminded me (as I know all of you would remind me) that Russ has the will to get through this, that he's strong, that I can't lose hope even when things look hopeless... it was also pointed out to me that it's part of the doctor's job to make me aware of the possibilities (aka "worst case scenario"), and Russ has made it this far; I think the jury is still out on him.
Tomorrow I will meet with one of the investigating officers from Orange PD and so hopefully get more insight into what happened as far as the accident. I've heard some conflicting (and troubling) details that I want him to clarify for me, including the suggestion that Russ was "intoxicated more than a few beers" which would be completely out of character for both him and Louie; they went on several of these rides and were always very cautious and careful, and I also know from past experience if it came down to it, Russ would have called me if he felt incapable of riding in that situation. I told someone close to me earlier in the week: "Sometimes accidents just happen.." ...even when you do everything right. It would be easy for me to pin the responsibility on someone, or something - anything to give me a REASON why Russ is lying in the hospital with a cracked skull right now, but you know what, having a reason doesn't change the outcome. So reasons are of no importance to me.
I promised you information on Louie's services which will be held at Rose Hills in Whittier. Viewing times are scheduled this Sunday at 5:30pm and 7pm, funeral services are scheduled for 11am Monday. I plan to attend Monday... Louie was a good guy, and he was a good friend to my husband right up until the very last second. I know Russ will be sad to hear he's gone.
I look forward to giving you a better update tomorrow.
Shirley
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
November 18, 2008
So the highlights for today: Russ' blood pressure was a bit more stable, which in turn helped the acid level go down, which made the medical staff happy. He was also running high blood sugars (shock of the accident; and in response to some of the medications) but that also seemed to be more within normal range (there's only room for ONE diabetic person in this family, after all!). They have him on a feeding tube, first to make sure he's got nutrients to support his body's healing, but also to keep his stomach in working order.
I have a message out for the neurologist for the results of the three previous CTs of his head, but haven't gotten to speak with him yet - I will most likely track somebody down tomorrow morning... but they are no longer sedating Russ, which I took to be a positive sign (he is still in a coma, and if for some reason he woke up they would RE-sedate him.. but they would want to see if he was "close" to waking up).
I got the chance for a short visit with Loretta earlier this evening; I believe she will be having Louie's services on Monday... if I can pin down the details I will share them with you.
Only 24 hours hours to finish off the "first 72 hours critical window immediately following the accident".. so I will feel a little more relieved this time tomorrow.
After tomorrow I will most likely update you only with "significant" changes (good or bad) so you won't see an email every day, but rest assured you'll hear about any new developments in Russ' condition.
Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.
Shirley
I have a message out for the neurologist for the results of the three previous CTs of his head, but haven't gotten to speak with him yet - I will most likely track somebody down tomorrow morning... but they are no longer sedating Russ, which I took to be a positive sign (he is still in a coma, and if for some reason he woke up they would RE-sedate him.. but they would want to see if he was "close" to waking up).
I got the chance for a short visit with Loretta earlier this evening; I believe she will be having Louie's services on Monday... if I can pin down the details I will share them with you.
Only 24 hours hours to finish off the "first 72 hours critical window immediately following the accident".. so I will feel a little more relieved this time tomorrow.
After tomorrow I will most likely update you only with "significant" changes (good or bad) so you won't see an email every day, but rest assured you'll hear about any new developments in Russ' condition.
Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.
Shirley
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
November 17, 2008
I hate to share this news via email, but I hope you will forgive me.
I wanted to let you know that Russ was in a pretty serious motorcycle accident last night, coming home from a ride with a group that included his friend Louie. I don't know the details yet as I have not made it over to the Orange Police Department to see the report, but it seems that Russ and Louie (who I believe were on their way home judging from the location of the accident) "bumped" into each other; Russ went off into a ditch... Louie went down also, and was subsequently run over by a car and killed. Russ was barely breathing when paramedics arrived and is in the ICU department in critical condition at Western Medical Center in Santa Ana. He is currently being monitored by the doctors and nurses; I don't want to get into all the details here, but he is being sedated (therefore not conscious) and the message from the doctors is that it's "life-or-death" in these next few days as he is suffering from brain swelling amongst other things. All the damage is from the neck up, pretty much (in the worst possible of places).
I am on my way back to the hospital this morning; he is scheduled for a CT scan and I should be able to speak to the neurologist to get a more definitive prognosis.
I ask for your prayers in the meantime, and if anyone wants to get ahold of me my cell is on - but if it's for an update please wait a few hours.
* * * * * * * * * *
First, I want to tell you how much it means to me to have all of your thoughts and prayers for Russ. I am happy to report he is doing incrementally better today than yesterday, which makes me feel hopeful as the first 72 hours following the accident are the most critical (in cases of head trauma).
Russ is in a coma, AND he is being sedated. This is because he needs to be the most relaxed/least stressed as possible to recuperate, and apparently a coma by itself isn't relaxed enough. The nurses have also told me that visitors (I have not restricted anyone from visiting), especially at this "acute" stage, must not over-stimulate Russ as it will impede his recovery. Once he gets some improvements under his belt, visitors will be better for him, so please know that your thoughts and prayers are truly the best way you can help him right now.
Here's the update to my info: As far as the accident, Russ and Louie were on their way home from a day long ride, their last stop was Cook's Corner, a biker bar (Santiago Canyon area) - this was typical for their rides, and they've been on several. It seems that at the bottom of the windy canyon road, Russ lost control of his bike and went off into the ditch. Louie, seeing Russ lose control, laid his bike down and started to walk over to see if he was okay. As Louie was walking over, a car struck and killed him.
The paramedics reporting to the scene got to Russ who was barely breathing, tubed him for oxygen, and transported him to Western Medical Center in Santa Ana, where he was stabilized and has been in ICU since last night. He has 15 broken ribs, a broken back, some broken bones in his neck, some cracks on his head. He was moving his arms and legs earlier today (reflex movements) so it doesn't appear he is paralyzed. The most trauma is from the neck up. He does show bleeding in his brain, and particularly his brain stem, which controls automatic bodily functions (i.e. breathing), but we won't know the extent of that until much later. Right now the ICU is trying to manage the brain swelling and pressure, and his body is overly acidic (most likely in response to the shock of the accident) - other possible causes of the acid would be internal bleeding or a bruised heart, and both of those scans came back clean. He is on breathing apparatus, but he is capable of breathing on his own; the apparatus is there to support his breathing. He did aspirate some fluid into his lungs, which is being monitored as this can cause pneumonia; so far he does NOT have pneumonia but if it should develop the ICU will address it at that time (they just wanted to keep me informed of the possibilities).
I was at the hospital most of the day, and I have to say the nurses are very attentive and the doctors answer all of my questions with the utmost patience and sympathy, so I am thankful for that. I have heard from more than one person that this is a very good medical facility for Russ to be taken care of at, and that gives me comfort along with everything else.
Several of you have been offering any help I may need, and at this time it is most helpful that you help me to keep everyone informed on Russ' progress. Please rest assured I don't have any problems asking for help, and I won't try to be a martyr... right now though I want to think positive because I really think that doing so - along with hundreds of prayers - does make all the difference.
Shirley
I wanted to let you know that Russ was in a pretty serious motorcycle accident last night, coming home from a ride with a group that included his friend Louie. I don't know the details yet as I have not made it over to the Orange Police Department to see the report, but it seems that Russ and Louie (who I believe were on their way home judging from the location of the accident) "bumped" into each other; Russ went off into a ditch... Louie went down also, and was subsequently run over by a car and killed. Russ was barely breathing when paramedics arrived and is in the ICU department in critical condition at Western Medical Center in Santa Ana. He is currently being monitored by the doctors and nurses; I don't want to get into all the details here, but he is being sedated (therefore not conscious) and the message from the doctors is that it's "life-or-death" in these next few days as he is suffering from brain swelling amongst other things. All the damage is from the neck up, pretty much (in the worst possible of places).
I am on my way back to the hospital this morning; he is scheduled for a CT scan and I should be able to speak to the neurologist to get a more definitive prognosis.
I ask for your prayers in the meantime, and if anyone wants to get ahold of me my cell is on - but if it's for an update please wait a few hours.
* * * * * * * * * *
First, I want to tell you how much it means to me to have all of your thoughts and prayers for Russ. I am happy to report he is doing incrementally better today than yesterday, which makes me feel hopeful as the first 72 hours following the accident are the most critical (in cases of head trauma).
Russ is in a coma, AND he is being sedated. This is because he needs to be the most relaxed/least stressed as possible to recuperate, and apparently a coma by itself isn't relaxed enough. The nurses have also told me that visitors (I have not restricted anyone from visiting), especially at this "acute" stage, must not over-stimulate Russ as it will impede his recovery. Once he gets some improvements under his belt, visitors will be better for him, so please know that your thoughts and prayers are truly the best way you can help him right now.
Here's the update to my info: As far as the accident, Russ and Louie were on their way home from a day long ride, their last stop was Cook's Corner, a biker bar (Santiago Canyon area) - this was typical for their rides, and they've been on several. It seems that at the bottom of the windy canyon road, Russ lost control of his bike and went off into the ditch. Louie, seeing Russ lose control, laid his bike down and started to walk over to see if he was okay. As Louie was walking over, a car struck and killed him.
The paramedics reporting to the scene got to Russ who was barely breathing, tubed him for oxygen, and transported him to Western Medical Center in Santa Ana, where he was stabilized and has been in ICU since last night. He has 15 broken ribs, a broken back, some broken bones in his neck, some cracks on his head. He was moving his arms and legs earlier today (reflex movements) so it doesn't appear he is paralyzed. The most trauma is from the neck up. He does show bleeding in his brain, and particularly his brain stem, which controls automatic bodily functions (i.e. breathing), but we won't know the extent of that until much later. Right now the ICU is trying to manage the brain swelling and pressure, and his body is overly acidic (most likely in response to the shock of the accident) - other possible causes of the acid would be internal bleeding or a bruised heart, and both of those scans came back clean. He is on breathing apparatus, but he is capable of breathing on his own; the apparatus is there to support his breathing. He did aspirate some fluid into his lungs, which is being monitored as this can cause pneumonia; so far he does NOT have pneumonia but if it should develop the ICU will address it at that time (they just wanted to keep me informed of the possibilities).
I was at the hospital most of the day, and I have to say the nurses are very attentive and the doctors answer all of my questions with the utmost patience and sympathy, so I am thankful for that. I have heard from more than one person that this is a very good medical facility for Russ to be taken care of at, and that gives me comfort along with everything else.
Several of you have been offering any help I may need, and at this time it is most helpful that you help me to keep everyone informed on Russ' progress. Please rest assured I don't have any problems asking for help, and I won't try to be a martyr... right now though I want to think positive because I really think that doing so - along with hundreds of prayers - does make all the difference.
Shirley
Monday, November 16, 2009
Shirley's Bio
In pursuit of my degree, it is customary to post a short biography at the beginning of every five week class so the facilitator and students can get a sense of each other (in an online environment, words are all you have to go by). Here is my latest revision:
My name is Shirley Downie, and I am a 38-year old woman of Spanish descent. I live in California with my 17-year old son, Christopher.
One year ago, my husband Russ was killed in a motorcycle accident. I was already working towards my degree, and certainly this devastating event sidetracked those plans – along with everything else – and I was forced to drop the class I was attending at the time.
Beyond the shock, anger, sadness and array of other emotions that I’ve had to deal with in trying to process my loss, my instincts guided me to the realization that life – my life – goes on. This idea has been reinforced for me every day since my husband’s death. So I’m still here, with less than a year to go to achieve my educational goal.
I am an expressive communicator, which means it’s all about feelings and emotions for me. In my professional career much of my experience is drawn from positions of customer service, training, and project management. I produce the best results when I am allowed free reign to meet an objective using my own methods. I am a self-employed life insurance agent (primarily), with a smattering of other business ventures mixed in which include public relations and music.
I enjoy the learning environment and interpersonal interaction that school provides, but as my life gets busier I confess I am looking forward to graduation next October – particularly because I will be able to recoup all of the time in my schedule currently devoted to assignments and studying.
I also look forward – with growing excitement – to the many possibilities of life.
My name is Shirley Downie, and I am a 38-year old woman of Spanish descent. I live in California with my 17-year old son, Christopher.
One year ago, my husband Russ was killed in a motorcycle accident. I was already working towards my degree, and certainly this devastating event sidetracked those plans – along with everything else – and I was forced to drop the class I was attending at the time.
Beyond the shock, anger, sadness and array of other emotions that I’ve had to deal with in trying to process my loss, my instincts guided me to the realization that life – my life – goes on. This idea has been reinforced for me every day since my husband’s death. So I’m still here, with less than a year to go to achieve my educational goal.
I am an expressive communicator, which means it’s all about feelings and emotions for me. In my professional career much of my experience is drawn from positions of customer service, training, and project management. I produce the best results when I am allowed free reign to meet an objective using my own methods. I am a self-employed life insurance agent (primarily), with a smattering of other business ventures mixed in which include public relations and music.
I enjoy the learning environment and interpersonal interaction that school provides, but as my life gets busier I confess I am looking forward to graduation next October – particularly because I will be able to recoup all of the time in my schedule currently devoted to assignments and studying.
I also look forward – with growing excitement – to the many possibilities of life.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
People Places Things
Here is the itinerary for the ride on Sunday. Call my cell if you have any questions – Julie XXX-XXX-XXXX
8AM – McDonald’s, Fullerton: 57 freeway, off at Chapman, go east, it’s on the southeast corner of Placentia Avenue and Chapman Avenue
9AM – Breakfast at Francie’s Pub, Corona (102 River Road) – 91 freeway east, off at Lincoln Avenue, turn right, then a right on River Road
Pechanga Casino, Temecula – 15 south, off at Temecula Parkway, turn left, Pechanga Parkway, turn right
Hell’s Kitchen, Lake Elsinore – 32685 Ortega Highway
Tom’s Farms, Corona – Off I-15, Temescal Canyon Road
(this last location was crossed out, replaced by "Cook’s Corner" in the Bunny's handwriting)
* * *
These are the places my husband visited his last day on Earth. He was with friends, doing something he was passionate about. Regardless of how it turned out, I know that he was on his way home to me.
I generally don’t make it a habit of torturing myself with the “what ifs.” Yes, occasionally I do lament the unfairness of things, but for the most part I am grateful for the time I had with the Bunny – the life we had together.
It’s been a year, and the intense shock has dulled somewhat. I am still very sad – though my positive, happy self stubbornly refuses to lay down and be quiet – the Bunny is never far from my thoughts.
Life has continued; sometimes a year seems like an eternity, other times it feels like just a few passing moments… I’m afraid of forgetting him. I’m afraid of losing myself. I don’t think I was meant to spend so much time alone – it gives me way too much time to think. Too much thinking isn’t good, because if I am not problem-solving, it’s very likely I am problem-creating. Or worse yet, attacking my self-esteem. I don’t know why; all I know is this is the first time in a long time I feel so unworthy, so… invisible. So disconnected.
And because those damn birds have eaten all my bread crumbs, I’m not sure yet how I’m going to find my way back.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Hibernation
I had a low blood sugar reaction yesterday – I have them every so often, especially when I don’t stop working in order to eat food – but this one is worth mentioning because it happened during the daytime, so the impact on my activities was more noticeable (usually they happen at night, around 3 o’clock in the morning). Diabetes is a funny disease.. it’s like riding a unicycle on a wire, a thousand feet in the air underneath the big top – you have to balance things “just so” or you plummet to your death. Okay, maybe not plummet, per se. But as far as dying goes, there are all sorts of bad things you have to deal with along the way – going blind, amputation, kidney failure – you get the picture. This is why my recent ‘working-out-and-taking-care-of-myself’ thing is doubly-significant.
Way back when the Bunny and I were first dating, we were in Mexico – he and our friends Jon & Janet were participating in the Rosarita Century (100-mile bicycle ride, for the uninformed). That was the first time I had met Jon & Janet, in fact… and I remember us getting ready to go have dinner, so I – figuring we’d be eating food shortly – took my shot of insulin before we left the hotel we were staying at, and took off walking down the main drag. And walking. And walking. And walking. I think we ended up walking for like an hour, and finally we ducked into a restaurant. By the time we were sitting at our table, my blood sugar had dropped really, really low. First I start feeling clammy, I get pale, my hands start shaking… but the way I know I am in serious trouble is when my brain shuts off. I have no other way to describe it – usually my thoughts move constantly, at light speed, but during a low blood sugar reaction everything comes to a screeching halt. I can’t talk coherently, I’m staring at the people I am with trying to figure out who they are, I burst into tears. As it’s been told to me, it is pretty frightening to witness.
If I remember this tale correctly, the Bunny raced over to the bar to get me some orange juice (we’d been together long enough that he knew what to do in these instances). Remember, Jon and Janet hadn’t met me before, so they were speechless… what a first impression! That’s me… unforgettable. Lolll.
Over time, the Bunny got really good about knowing when my blood sugar was low. Sometimes even before I knew it. I wonder what tipped him off… maybe I wasn’t processing and communicating the way I normally do, and externally that’s the biggest indication something is not right internally. I never had to worry that I wouldn’t wake up, if I had a low blood sugar reaction in the middle of the night. Not with the Bunny right there next to me. He was truly “my Protector” in more ways than one.
Sometimes my morbid side comes out and I imagine what would happen if I had a low blood sugar reaction and didn’t do anything about it… I know if anyone who knows me is reading this right now they might be alarmed at what I just wrote – but I made a pact with myself years ago that I would never intentionally hurt myself like that (a long story, best kept for another time). But I still wonder. Would anyone miss me? Would anyone care? Did I really impact the people in my life the best way possible? When I got to heaven or hell or wherever I am destined to go, would I be aware of anything? I think I would want to know if I made anyone’s life better, because all I can be sure of is the people in my life have definitely improved mine.
Today is Monday. In exactly one week, I will get to the year anniversary of the Bunny’s accident. The accident that took the life of his good friend Louie. The accident that altered the course of many lives – not just his and Louie’s; not just mine. I think about my life now, and I hope those other people are hanging in there. I hope they are doing okay. I hope they have a nice balance of joy mixed in with the sorrow. Balanced… just like my blood sugars aspire to be. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort, but you know, the payoff is always worth it. Peace.
Way back when the Bunny and I were first dating, we were in Mexico – he and our friends Jon & Janet were participating in the Rosarita Century (100-mile bicycle ride, for the uninformed). That was the first time I had met Jon & Janet, in fact… and I remember us getting ready to go have dinner, so I – figuring we’d be eating food shortly – took my shot of insulin before we left the hotel we were staying at, and took off walking down the main drag. And walking. And walking. And walking. I think we ended up walking for like an hour, and finally we ducked into a restaurant. By the time we were sitting at our table, my blood sugar had dropped really, really low. First I start feeling clammy, I get pale, my hands start shaking… but the way I know I am in serious trouble is when my brain shuts off. I have no other way to describe it – usually my thoughts move constantly, at light speed, but during a low blood sugar reaction everything comes to a screeching halt. I can’t talk coherently, I’m staring at the people I am with trying to figure out who they are, I burst into tears. As it’s been told to me, it is pretty frightening to witness.
If I remember this tale correctly, the Bunny raced over to the bar to get me some orange juice (we’d been together long enough that he knew what to do in these instances). Remember, Jon and Janet hadn’t met me before, so they were speechless… what a first impression! That’s me… unforgettable. Lolll.
Over time, the Bunny got really good about knowing when my blood sugar was low. Sometimes even before I knew it. I wonder what tipped him off… maybe I wasn’t processing and communicating the way I normally do, and externally that’s the biggest indication something is not right internally. I never had to worry that I wouldn’t wake up, if I had a low blood sugar reaction in the middle of the night. Not with the Bunny right there next to me. He was truly “my Protector” in more ways than one.
Sometimes my morbid side comes out and I imagine what would happen if I had a low blood sugar reaction and didn’t do anything about it… I know if anyone who knows me is reading this right now they might be alarmed at what I just wrote – but I made a pact with myself years ago that I would never intentionally hurt myself like that (a long story, best kept for another time). But I still wonder. Would anyone miss me? Would anyone care? Did I really impact the people in my life the best way possible? When I got to heaven or hell or wherever I am destined to go, would I be aware of anything? I think I would want to know if I made anyone’s life better, because all I can be sure of is the people in my life have definitely improved mine.
Today is Monday. In exactly one week, I will get to the year anniversary of the Bunny’s accident. The accident that took the life of his good friend Louie. The accident that altered the course of many lives – not just his and Louie’s; not just mine. I think about my life now, and I hope those other people are hanging in there. I hope they are doing okay. I hope they have a nice balance of joy mixed in with the sorrow. Balanced… just like my blood sugars aspire to be. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort, but you know, the payoff is always worth it. Peace.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saying What You Mean
This post started out much differently; I was actually writing about something completely different and then realized, “This is not what I want to say right now,” – so I decided to toss it out and start again. You can do that on a blog… so much different than the real world. In the real world, you don’t get to “toss it out and start again.” Which can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the circumstances at that particular moment.
I’m a little stuck right now, emotionally speaking. Fortunately or unfortunately, it doesn’t have anything to do with the Bunny – even more amazing what with being this close to the yearly anniversaries. By the calendar, exactly fifteen days from now marks the year anniversary of his accident. I’m still not sure how I am going to feel when that day arrives. Sometimes, what with the "busy"-ness of my life, I get a little anxious, thinking that I will forget. But then I stop and think: aren’t I supposed to forget? No, that can’t be right… I’m not sure how I am supposed to feel, what I am supposed to think. Sorrow that my husband is dead. Relief that it’s finally been a year. It’s all very confusing.
I was leaving my house the other day and in doing so crossed paths with one of my neighbors. We said our hellos and “have a nice days” and she mentioned remarking to her husband recently upon seeing me on my way somewhere, “Why is she so happy all the time?” That made me stop and think: Why AM I happy all the time? And I decided, I love being alive. I love the people in my life. I love having my home (a.k.a. my “sanctuary”). I love my freedom, and I love doing things that I, well… love. Like writing, and singing, and helping people understand life insurance. I am getting my degree (less than a year to go before I graduate) – I really love learning – and I am trying to take care of my body and health. Okay, I don’t love exercising all that much, I will admit, but I was just last week telling the doctor how amazed I was at the difference all this working out has been making on my blood sugars – they’ve almost been normal. Other than the insulin injections, I can almost forget I am a diabetic.
So… stuck. Still hung up in places in my heart that I would have expected to be freed up by now. But as I said before, I don’t call the shots there. It’s not as bad as you might imagine. I mean, my future is so nebulous, so vague, so.. “I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen, so why worry?” Which means that in the meantime, here in this moment, I am feeling pretty good. No expectations, just… living. Breathing. Being happy. I figure I am doing well, all things considered.
Whenever I start to get a little agitated, a little stir crazy, I remember that given enough time, things do evolve. Here it is, almost a year after the Bunny’s accident, and my life is very different than it was then. Each day passes, then you kind of look at everything going on and you say, “Wow!? Where did all these things come from?” That’s when it’s better to just keep pushing forward, instead of stopping and thinking. Trudging along that road, maybe not knowing where it ends up, but knowing it DOES end. And if you keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually you will get there. It is this thought that keeps me sane right now. Things will evolve. My heart needs to feel love right now even if it’s only a fantasy, only in my mind. It’s like pure oxygen in the tank. If you are healthy, that pure oxygen will burn your lungs. But if your body is in enough distress, that pure oxygen will keep you alive.
I have to be careful I don’t get involved with someone just to get past some of these other feelings. Part of it is my fear of there being nobody in this world who will truly accept me as I am – not try to change me. I remember that my husband loved me like this… but I also remember he was an unusual combination of characteristics and quirks. It’s like winning the lottery. Or being struck by lightning. What’s the chances of it happening twice in my lifetime? I try not to think about it. Just breathe. Be happy. Live.
Things DO evolve.
I’m a little stuck right now, emotionally speaking. Fortunately or unfortunately, it doesn’t have anything to do with the Bunny – even more amazing what with being this close to the yearly anniversaries. By the calendar, exactly fifteen days from now marks the year anniversary of his accident. I’m still not sure how I am going to feel when that day arrives. Sometimes, what with the "busy"-ness of my life, I get a little anxious, thinking that I will forget. But then I stop and think: aren’t I supposed to forget? No, that can’t be right… I’m not sure how I am supposed to feel, what I am supposed to think. Sorrow that my husband is dead. Relief that it’s finally been a year. It’s all very confusing.
I was leaving my house the other day and in doing so crossed paths with one of my neighbors. We said our hellos and “have a nice days” and she mentioned remarking to her husband recently upon seeing me on my way somewhere, “Why is she so happy all the time?” That made me stop and think: Why AM I happy all the time? And I decided, I love being alive. I love the people in my life. I love having my home (a.k.a. my “sanctuary”). I love my freedom, and I love doing things that I, well… love. Like writing, and singing, and helping people understand life insurance. I am getting my degree (less than a year to go before I graduate) – I really love learning – and I am trying to take care of my body and health. Okay, I don’t love exercising all that much, I will admit, but I was just last week telling the doctor how amazed I was at the difference all this working out has been making on my blood sugars – they’ve almost been normal. Other than the insulin injections, I can almost forget I am a diabetic.
So… stuck. Still hung up in places in my heart that I would have expected to be freed up by now. But as I said before, I don’t call the shots there. It’s not as bad as you might imagine. I mean, my future is so nebulous, so vague, so.. “I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen, so why worry?” Which means that in the meantime, here in this moment, I am feeling pretty good. No expectations, just… living. Breathing. Being happy. I figure I am doing well, all things considered.
Whenever I start to get a little agitated, a little stir crazy, I remember that given enough time, things do evolve. Here it is, almost a year after the Bunny’s accident, and my life is very different than it was then. Each day passes, then you kind of look at everything going on and you say, “Wow!? Where did all these things come from?” That’s when it’s better to just keep pushing forward, instead of stopping and thinking. Trudging along that road, maybe not knowing where it ends up, but knowing it DOES end. And if you keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually you will get there. It is this thought that keeps me sane right now. Things will evolve. My heart needs to feel love right now even if it’s only a fantasy, only in my mind. It’s like pure oxygen in the tank. If you are healthy, that pure oxygen will burn your lungs. But if your body is in enough distress, that pure oxygen will keep you alive.
I have to be careful I don’t get involved with someone just to get past some of these other feelings. Part of it is my fear of there being nobody in this world who will truly accept me as I am – not try to change me. I remember that my husband loved me like this… but I also remember he was an unusual combination of characteristics and quirks. It’s like winning the lottery. Or being struck by lightning. What’s the chances of it happening twice in my lifetime? I try not to think about it. Just breathe. Be happy. Live.
Things DO evolve.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Mind Games
(I want to send out a special “thank you” to the future Dr. Newman, whose feedback, guidance and counsel made it possible for me to bring this post to life… and for not losing your patience or good humor in the face of my incessant questioning)
In the spirit of physical “body conditioning” training – and by default, nutrition – I was recently made aware of a connection between weight-training based exercises and the prevention of Alzheimer’s. In this day and age, most people are familiar with Alzheimer’s: an affliction of the brain where disease onset is most closely associated with advancing age. I want to state for the record that I AM NOT A DOCTOR! but my understanding – based on my own perceived “reasonably thorough” internet research – is as follows: Alzheimer’s is the most common type of dementia in which a person loses cognitive function due to abnormal clumps, tangled fibers, and disconnection of nerve cells in the brain. This results in cell death, which manifests as shrinkage of the affected areas of the brain. It is important to note, however, that Alzheimer’s is NOT a normal part of the aging process; it IS a disease, and as such, measures can be taken to prevent it. One of these measures is weight-training based exercises.
Dr. Ronald Petersen, director of the Alzheimer's Research Center at the Mayo Clinic, said on ABC: "Regular physical exercise is probably the best means we have of preventing Alzheimer's disease today, better than medications, better than intellectual activity, better than supplements and diet."
What are weight-training based exercises?
Also referred to as strength training, you can get the necessary results with weight machines like you find at the gym, free weights, resistance tubing, or even using your body’s own weight. Examples of exercises using your own body weight include: push-ups, pull-ups, abdominal crunches and leg squats.
How do weight-training based exercises help to prevent Alzheimer’s?
While the brain is not a muscle, it CAN atrophy (a fancy medical term meaning your body part is wasting away) from lack of use. If you don’t maintain conditioning of your muscles, your body loses muscle mass – which is what tends to happen as people age and/or they become less physically active. In the brain’s case, the brain itself begins to shrink in size. When muscles are strong, the heart has doesn’t have to work as hard pumping blood which in turn carries oxygen & nutrients to the brain and your other body parts. Therefore, the strength training not only makes sure your organs are “fat and happy” by delivering all of those nutritional things they need to stay in good shape, but the “freeways” in the brain that are being used for those deliveries (aka “neural plasticity”) are kept – through regular use - from getting all tangled and clumped together.
Supporting medical research
Unfortunately, none of the medical research explains WHY exercise helps the brain stay in good functional order; just that it does. One hypothesis suggests that we, as human beings, are genetically designed for physical activity. In today’s society, a lifestyle of inactivity and continuous access to the food supply is the norm (versus the hunter-gatherer, feast and famine lifestyle of ancient times)… Humans haven’t changed much genetically in the last 10,000 years; therefore, this “inactive” lifestyle and other environmental factors are causing our bodies to be more susceptible to chronic conditions like Type 2 Diabetes, coronary heart disease, certain cancers… and yes, you guessed it: Alzheimer’s (Booth, Chakravarthy, Gordon & Spangenburg, 2002). “Interestingly, a number of epidemiological studies have shown that exercise can have a beneficial effect on AD (Alzheimer’s) by slowing down the onset and progression of the disease.” Previous studies noted in one article indicated that less active older people have over a 200% chance of developing Alzheimer’s, as opposed to active older people who have a 60% less chance of developing it (Briones, 2006, p.53).
Respecting the temple
I read about many, many instances where physically active people STILL developed Alzheimer’s, and it seemed like in a lot of cases a severe blow to the head would also lead to the disease. Unfortunately, because they don’t know what actually causes Alzheimer’s there is no fool-proof way to prevent it, but in the case of body conditioning and working out, there are so many other benefits – weight control, emotional and physical well-being, less likely to develop other chronic conditions, etc. – the benefits clearly outweigh the laziness factor, at least they do in my case.
From my own perspective, my brain holds everything that makes me… me. I can’t imagine anything more devastating than losing pieces of myself. My personality. My spirit… my soul. I can’t imagine my loved ones being witness to something like that. I started my workout program in part due to a promise I made to the Bunny. But maybe it was to put me in a place where I could gain some additional motivation to take better care of myself over the long-term – so that even though my husband couldn’t be with me, he could still contribute towards giving me the chance to live a better life. A chance I’m going to take, and run with. Or maybe… sweat with. This is a game I want to win.
If you remember nothing else, remember this: Eat tasty & nutritious food. Breathe deeply. And be good to your body… it deserves your love and attention.
References:
Booth, F. W., Chakravarthy, M., Gordon, S., Spangenburg, E. (2002). Waging war on physical inactivity: using modern molecular ammunition against an ancient enemy. The American Physiological Society. J Appl Physiol 93: 3 – 30. http://www.jap.org
Briones, T. (2006). Environment, Physical Activity, and Neurogenesis: Implications for Prevention and Treatment of Alzhemier's Disease. Current Alzheimer Research, 3(1), 49-54.
Lunde, A., Mayo Clinic. www.mayoclinic.com. Alzheimer’s blog.
In the spirit of physical “body conditioning” training – and by default, nutrition – I was recently made aware of a connection between weight-training based exercises and the prevention of Alzheimer’s. In this day and age, most people are familiar with Alzheimer’s: an affliction of the brain where disease onset is most closely associated with advancing age. I want to state for the record that I AM NOT A DOCTOR! but my understanding – based on my own perceived “reasonably thorough” internet research – is as follows: Alzheimer’s is the most common type of dementia in which a person loses cognitive function due to abnormal clumps, tangled fibers, and disconnection of nerve cells in the brain. This results in cell death, which manifests as shrinkage of the affected areas of the brain. It is important to note, however, that Alzheimer’s is NOT a normal part of the aging process; it IS a disease, and as such, measures can be taken to prevent it. One of these measures is weight-training based exercises.
Dr. Ronald Petersen, director of the Alzheimer's Research Center at the Mayo Clinic, said on ABC: "Regular physical exercise is probably the best means we have of preventing Alzheimer's disease today, better than medications, better than intellectual activity, better than supplements and diet."
What are weight-training based exercises?
Also referred to as strength training, you can get the necessary results with weight machines like you find at the gym, free weights, resistance tubing, or even using your body’s own weight. Examples of exercises using your own body weight include: push-ups, pull-ups, abdominal crunches and leg squats.
How do weight-training based exercises help to prevent Alzheimer’s?
While the brain is not a muscle, it CAN atrophy (a fancy medical term meaning your body part is wasting away) from lack of use. If you don’t maintain conditioning of your muscles, your body loses muscle mass – which is what tends to happen as people age and/or they become less physically active. In the brain’s case, the brain itself begins to shrink in size. When muscles are strong, the heart has doesn’t have to work as hard pumping blood which in turn carries oxygen & nutrients to the brain and your other body parts. Therefore, the strength training not only makes sure your organs are “fat and happy” by delivering all of those nutritional things they need to stay in good shape, but the “freeways” in the brain that are being used for those deliveries (aka “neural plasticity”) are kept – through regular use - from getting all tangled and clumped together.
Supporting medical research
Unfortunately, none of the medical research explains WHY exercise helps the brain stay in good functional order; just that it does. One hypothesis suggests that we, as human beings, are genetically designed for physical activity. In today’s society, a lifestyle of inactivity and continuous access to the food supply is the norm (versus the hunter-gatherer, feast and famine lifestyle of ancient times)… Humans haven’t changed much genetically in the last 10,000 years; therefore, this “inactive” lifestyle and other environmental factors are causing our bodies to be more susceptible to chronic conditions like Type 2 Diabetes, coronary heart disease, certain cancers… and yes, you guessed it: Alzheimer’s (Booth, Chakravarthy, Gordon & Spangenburg, 2002). “Interestingly, a number of epidemiological studies have shown that exercise can have a beneficial effect on AD (Alzheimer’s) by slowing down the onset and progression of the disease.” Previous studies noted in one article indicated that less active older people have over a 200% chance of developing Alzheimer’s, as opposed to active older people who have a 60% less chance of developing it (Briones, 2006, p.53).
Respecting the temple
I read about many, many instances where physically active people STILL developed Alzheimer’s, and it seemed like in a lot of cases a severe blow to the head would also lead to the disease. Unfortunately, because they don’t know what actually causes Alzheimer’s there is no fool-proof way to prevent it, but in the case of body conditioning and working out, there are so many other benefits – weight control, emotional and physical well-being, less likely to develop other chronic conditions, etc. – the benefits clearly outweigh the laziness factor, at least they do in my case.
From my own perspective, my brain holds everything that makes me… me. I can’t imagine anything more devastating than losing pieces of myself. My personality. My spirit… my soul. I can’t imagine my loved ones being witness to something like that. I started my workout program in part due to a promise I made to the Bunny. But maybe it was to put me in a place where I could gain some additional motivation to take better care of myself over the long-term – so that even though my husband couldn’t be with me, he could still contribute towards giving me the chance to live a better life. A chance I’m going to take, and run with. Or maybe… sweat with. This is a game I want to win.
If you remember nothing else, remember this: Eat tasty & nutritious food. Breathe deeply. And be good to your body… it deserves your love and attention.
References:
Booth, F. W., Chakravarthy, M., Gordon, S., Spangenburg, E. (2002). Waging war on physical inactivity: using modern molecular ammunition against an ancient enemy. The American Physiological Society. J Appl Physiol 93: 3 – 30. http://www.jap.org
Briones, T. (2006). Environment, Physical Activity, and Neurogenesis: Implications for Prevention and Treatment of Alzhemier's Disease. Current Alzheimer Research, 3(1), 49-54.
Lunde, A., Mayo Clinic. www.mayoclinic.com. Alzheimer’s blog.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Love Is
I frequently search out good quotes and sayings on the internet... usually ones that reflect my mood. Here's one I found this morning that just kind of stuck with me... I don't know who the author is, but it's the message that's most important.
"I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you."
Peace.
"I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you."
Peace.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Back And Forth
It’s been a rough couple of days; I found myself feeling overwhelmed, mentally revisiting life from a year ago… Following the weekend celebration of the Bunny’s birthday in Las Vegas, a month and a few days later I would be standing next to his hospital bed in the ICU – not realizing yet that he was already gone, despite physically being there with beeping machines to insist otherwise.
I think back to last year, and I don’t remember crying much. I was busy being “strong” – validating the perception that most people have of me – but I wonder if “numb” is a more accurate description. When things are happening (like someone you love is dying), there are always a lot of to-do’s to get done. Now, to-do’s… that’s something I really know how to handle. In a strange way it was comforting to have so many, because ‘getting things done’ is so familiar, so…. safe. It’s a very linear process. You start at the top of the list, and slowly, methodically, you cross things off as they are completed. Very structured and organized. Very much a part of my personality.
But having a year between me and those events, with most of those to-do’s put to bed, there isn’t much in the way of my emotions now running rampant. Or, those emotions have finally caught up to my brain (remember, my heart goes at its own pace in these matters). Now, as my mind replays last year’s events, my heart is the sitting on the couch; the only viewer. And the longer these images flash on the screen, the longer the tremors ripple deep inside that cause my tears to erupt from the surface.
I know enough to seek out my friends right now. Those people in my life that I have a special connection with; that most especially ‘get’ me. They are elite from the respect that I know they will let me be, and not try to ‘fix’ me, or act as if I am being over-indulgent, and why don’t I just “get over it already.” As much as I feel the pain of losing my husband, I really don’t think I could survive it without my friends. They are truly what makes me strong – kind of like Sampson and his hair.
So these last few days… I have been a breath away from tears. Not the silent, streaming down your face one at a time kind of tears, but the “perfectly okay one minute, and bursting out sobbing the next” type – which probably would scare most passerby, small children and cute, fuzzy woodland creatures. I am reminded of a geyser – call me “Old Faithful.” I make a plan to meet one of my friends, and I’ve no sooner stepped out of the car when I start crying. Hard. This is the scene I’ve been playing out over and over this week.
I’ve read that grief is anything but linear. It’s like the numbers in the stock market – any event in the world at any given time will act upon those numbers, causing them to shoot straight up to sky or drop like a stone in a well. That’s grief. It is so “out of my control.” It is so unstructured, unorganized. I’ve read about it… but now I know firsthand what those people are talking about. I know what it FEELS like… I have the benefit of real-world application of some academic, conceptual idea. And having this knowledge makes me different. It makes me better able to meaningfully connect with other people. Experiences like this tend to isolate us from each other, and I am a bridge – just like my friends are my bridge, making me feel I am still a part of this world.
I think my numbers are on their way back up. I don’t feel like those “overwhelmed” feelings are quite so near the surface as much, now that I’ve let off some of the pressure. I’ve also been schooling for a new church choir to sing regularly with – I haven’t been singing much lately, and clearly not doing so has had a significant negative impact on my emotional well-being (singing is another one of my bridges).
I find that when I am receptive to it, there are always little things here and there to be hopeful for. It helps to start somewhere, so I can work up to those bigger things, like love and happiness.
Slowly, methodically… guess I should start at the top of the list.
I think back to last year, and I don’t remember crying much. I was busy being “strong” – validating the perception that most people have of me – but I wonder if “numb” is a more accurate description. When things are happening (like someone you love is dying), there are always a lot of to-do’s to get done. Now, to-do’s… that’s something I really know how to handle. In a strange way it was comforting to have so many, because ‘getting things done’ is so familiar, so…. safe. It’s a very linear process. You start at the top of the list, and slowly, methodically, you cross things off as they are completed. Very structured and organized. Very much a part of my personality.
But having a year between me and those events, with most of those to-do’s put to bed, there isn’t much in the way of my emotions now running rampant. Or, those emotions have finally caught up to my brain (remember, my heart goes at its own pace in these matters). Now, as my mind replays last year’s events, my heart is the sitting on the couch; the only viewer. And the longer these images flash on the screen, the longer the tremors ripple deep inside that cause my tears to erupt from the surface.
I know enough to seek out my friends right now. Those people in my life that I have a special connection with; that most especially ‘get’ me. They are elite from the respect that I know they will let me be, and not try to ‘fix’ me, or act as if I am being over-indulgent, and why don’t I just “get over it already.” As much as I feel the pain of losing my husband, I really don’t think I could survive it without my friends. They are truly what makes me strong – kind of like Sampson and his hair.
So these last few days… I have been a breath away from tears. Not the silent, streaming down your face one at a time kind of tears, but the “perfectly okay one minute, and bursting out sobbing the next” type – which probably would scare most passerby, small children and cute, fuzzy woodland creatures. I am reminded of a geyser – call me “Old Faithful.” I make a plan to meet one of my friends, and I’ve no sooner stepped out of the car when I start crying. Hard. This is the scene I’ve been playing out over and over this week.
I’ve read that grief is anything but linear. It’s like the numbers in the stock market – any event in the world at any given time will act upon those numbers, causing them to shoot straight up to sky or drop like a stone in a well. That’s grief. It is so “out of my control.” It is so unstructured, unorganized. I’ve read about it… but now I know firsthand what those people are talking about. I know what it FEELS like… I have the benefit of real-world application of some academic, conceptual idea. And having this knowledge makes me different. It makes me better able to meaningfully connect with other people. Experiences like this tend to isolate us from each other, and I am a bridge – just like my friends are my bridge, making me feel I am still a part of this world.
I think my numbers are on their way back up. I don’t feel like those “overwhelmed” feelings are quite so near the surface as much, now that I’ve let off some of the pressure. I’ve also been schooling for a new church choir to sing regularly with – I haven’t been singing much lately, and clearly not doing so has had a significant negative impact on my emotional well-being (singing is another one of my bridges).
I find that when I am receptive to it, there are always little things here and there to be hopeful for. It helps to start somewhere, so I can work up to those bigger things, like love and happiness.
Slowly, methodically… guess I should start at the top of the list.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Last Birthday
We celebrated your last birthday in Las Vegas
You, me, and my son made three
Your son might also have joined us
But for a last-minute change in plans
You kept your cool as I laid out the weekend
You know what an organizational freak I am
I love being hostess
And this weekend, your birthday weekend, was special
It was the big 5-0
One of those milestones, people say
One of those birthdays you remember your whole life
To the soundtrack of the rings and dings of slot machines
We wined, we dined, we saw a show
But the best part was “Dolphin Trainer for a Day”
You made me promise that we would do it together, someday
But this day, your birthday, was special
A picture of you with that dolphin hangs on my bedroom wall
I look at it every day
And I smile at the memory of your last birthday
We celebrated your last birthday in Las Vegas
This year, I’ll celebrate alone
But I think about that last one
It’s one of those birthdays I’ll remember my whole life
Shirley D. Downie
October 7, 2009
You, me, and my son made three
Your son might also have joined us
But for a last-minute change in plans
You kept your cool as I laid out the weekend
You know what an organizational freak I am
I love being hostess
And this weekend, your birthday weekend, was special
It was the big 5-0
One of those milestones, people say
One of those birthdays you remember your whole life
To the soundtrack of the rings and dings of slot machines
We wined, we dined, we saw a show
But the best part was “Dolphin Trainer for a Day”
You made me promise that we would do it together, someday
But this day, your birthday, was special
A picture of you with that dolphin hangs on my bedroom wall
I look at it every day
And I smile at the memory of your last birthday
We celebrated your last birthday in Las Vegas
This year, I’ll celebrate alone
But I think about that last one
It’s one of those birthdays I’ll remember my whole life
Shirley D. Downie
October 7, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Out Of The Box
Here it is, the continuing saga of my fantasy love life. The “fantasy” refers to the condition that while I have felt attraction for certain individuals in my path… the stars have always been misaligned in terms of the potential for a real-live relationship. And maybe that’s a good thing for me, just barely coming up on the year anniversary of losing the Bunny.
So here’s the latest. In a previous post I described my tendency to feel attracted towards someone immediately – the elusive x-factor that, if missing, is a sure sign the relationship will not have any long-term staying power. And just when I think I have THAT whole thing figured out, the universe comes along to throw a proverbial wrench at my hypothetical monkey. In the current case, the attraction thing is working in reverse. Met the guy; good-looking, fairly decent, funny, smart… but I think at the time I was otherwise distracted. Or the attraction thing didn’t hit me like a semi truck... which is what I normally expect and therefore look out for. But as time has gone on, it seems that this sneaky devil takes up more and more of my thoughts (the more he gets in my head, the more attractive he becomes). And this is more than a little unsettling for me, because when my thoughts get monopolized, that’s when I begin my “fantasy relationship.”
True to form, the stars are a bit crooked with this mystery guy as well. Nothing a few revolutions and a little gravitational pull couldn’t cure, I’m guessing… but the foreignness of the whole thing throws me off a bit. Again, if I am looking for the usual signs, I would also have to say I get no “attraction vibes” from his direction (towards me) – and that’s another thing I can usually sense pretty clearly. No, he isn’t gay (there was a time in my life that I would go from being attracted to one homosexual guy after another – so much so that I would often joke about being a gay man trapped in a woman’s body – the makings of very funny story-telling; just another day in my life!).
Like the others the came before, I will simply let things run their course. No harm, no foul, and in the meantime my mind is kept busy. At least with these fantasy relationships I can feel confident in the knowledge that I won’t forget what to do when a real relationship comes my way.
So here’s the latest. In a previous post I described my tendency to feel attracted towards someone immediately – the elusive x-factor that, if missing, is a sure sign the relationship will not have any long-term staying power. And just when I think I have THAT whole thing figured out, the universe comes along to throw a proverbial wrench at my hypothetical monkey. In the current case, the attraction thing is working in reverse. Met the guy; good-looking, fairly decent, funny, smart… but I think at the time I was otherwise distracted. Or the attraction thing didn’t hit me like a semi truck... which is what I normally expect and therefore look out for. But as time has gone on, it seems that this sneaky devil takes up more and more of my thoughts (the more he gets in my head, the more attractive he becomes). And this is more than a little unsettling for me, because when my thoughts get monopolized, that’s when I begin my “fantasy relationship.”
True to form, the stars are a bit crooked with this mystery guy as well. Nothing a few revolutions and a little gravitational pull couldn’t cure, I’m guessing… but the foreignness of the whole thing throws me off a bit. Again, if I am looking for the usual signs, I would also have to say I get no “attraction vibes” from his direction (towards me) – and that’s another thing I can usually sense pretty clearly. No, he isn’t gay (there was a time in my life that I would go from being attracted to one homosexual guy after another – so much so that I would often joke about being a gay man trapped in a woman’s body – the makings of very funny story-telling; just another day in my life!).
Like the others the came before, I will simply let things run their course. No harm, no foul, and in the meantime my mind is kept busy. At least with these fantasy relationships I can feel confident in the knowledge that I won’t forget what to do when a real relationship comes my way.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Just What You're Worth
This poem was copied onto one of the pages a sympathy book given to me by friends and coworkers of me and the Bunny… a heartfelt thank you to Adriana Flores, and the rest of the Bowne family.
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room,
Why cry for a soul set free!
Miss me a little - but not for long
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that we once shared,
Miss me, but let me go.
For this journey that we all must take
And each must go alone;
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds.
Miss me, but let me go.
- Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room,
Why cry for a soul set free!
Miss me a little - but not for long
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that we once shared,
Miss me, but let me go.
For this journey that we all must take
And each must go alone;
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds.
Miss me, but let me go.
- Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Won't Be Long Now...
well...as our wedding pictures so plainly and obviously show, i had put on a little weight. i had been sick and wasn't going to the gym, and stopped riding on the weekends and (unfortunately) at the same time was eating all the wrong things...and LOTS of them!! so now...the wedding and reception are over...i'm feeling better, it's the beginning of june and i realize i've only got a couple few months before our annual 'amtrak century'. i head on back to the gym and to my absolute disgust, tip the scale at 237-1/2. i thought for quite a while that it was broke but after double checking on the scale we have at work it was confirmed...i was a lard ass!! so...my goal was to get back to the weight i was for last years century which was somewhere around 222 - 224. My 'ultimate' goal has always been to get down to 210...although that has been more my 'fantasy' weight as opposed to a reality weight. Well....that fantasy is getting closer and closer to a reality all the time. as of this morning, after finishing up the tues morning spin class, i weighed in at 216. a full 21-1/2 lbs lighter than 2 months ago, BUT...much more important, only 6 measly pounds away from my 'ultimate' goal. with a little bit of luck (and quite a few more spin classes) i might even get pretty damn close to 210 for the century.
just in case anyone is interested, the thing that has made the 'most' difference (other than the constant exercise of course) is that i have pretty much given up sugar. that has always been one of the main points driven home for the 'atkins' diet and now for the latest rave, the 'south beach' diet. they also list caffeine and alcohol, but i always drink a cup of coffee before each work out and i do have 1 beer a week (oh yeah....and last sunday i had a small bowl of rocky road!! mmmmmmm...it was soooooo GOOD!).
things are going well here, shirley should be starting her 'real' job around the 8th. trevor's doing good 'across the pond'. if you ever want to chat with him he is on AIM quite a bit. his sign on is DragonMaster9066. and just for the hell of it, his e-mail is dragon_master606@hotmail.com. Ummmm, there's suppose to be an 'underscore' between dragon and master but you can barely see it because the whole thing is underlined.
k, well...gotta go get ready for work
love to you all...Russ
(email to the family, dated August 26, 2003, approximately three months after our wedding)
just in case anyone is interested, the thing that has made the 'most' difference (other than the constant exercise of course) is that i have pretty much given up sugar. that has always been one of the main points driven home for the 'atkins' diet and now for the latest rave, the 'south beach' diet. they also list caffeine and alcohol, but i always drink a cup of coffee before each work out and i do have 1 beer a week (oh yeah....and last sunday i had a small bowl of rocky road!! mmmmmmm...it was soooooo GOOD!).
things are going well here, shirley should be starting her 'real' job around the 8th. trevor's doing good 'across the pond'. if you ever want to chat with him he is on AIM quite a bit. his sign on is DragonMaster9066. and just for the hell of it, his e-mail is dragon_master606@hotmail.com. Ummmm, there's suppose to be an 'underscore' between dragon and master but you can barely see it because the whole thing is underlined.
k, well...gotta go get ready for work
love to you all...Russ
(email to the family, dated August 26, 2003, approximately three months after our wedding)
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Sadness Captured
Photograph by: Joe Latter
Joe Latter Photography
562.437.0480
www.joelatterphotographer.com
Wardrobe alterations by: Robert Sancedo
Robert Sancedo, Designer/Stylist
323.256.6437
Wings by: Angela Jarman
Fancy Fairy & Goblin's Closet
707.642.6666
www.fancyfairy.com
Locket by: Jim Binnion
James Binnion Metal Arts
360.756.6550
www.mokume-gane.com
Hair by: Alyse Roen, Stylist
714.377.9262
Monday, October 5, 2009
A Perfect Circle
Received this in my in box today. Thanks, Victoria...
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.
One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation..
Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene. One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days, weeks and months passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.
The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.
It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
I'll let you take away what you will from this story. Peace.
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.
One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation..
Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene. One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days, weeks and months passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.
The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.
It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
I'll let you take away what you will from this story. Peace.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
An Italian Boy's Confession
I received this in my In box the other day, and it just struck me as VERY humorous... thanks, Cousin Naty!
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl."
The priest asks, "Is that you, little Joey Pagano?"
"Yes, Father, it is."
"And who was the girl you were with?"
"I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation."
"Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?"
''I cannot say."
''Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?"
''I'll never tell."
"Was it Nina Capelli?"
"I'm sorry, but I cannot name her."
"Was it Cathy Piriano?"
"My lips are sealed."
"Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?"
"Please, Father, I cannot tell you."
The priest sighs in frustration. "You're very tight-lipped, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now, you go and behave yourself."
Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend Franco slides over and whispers, "What'd you get?"
"'Four months vacation and five good leads."
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl."
The priest asks, "Is that you, little Joey Pagano?"
"Yes, Father, it is."
"And who was the girl you were with?"
"I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation."
"Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?"
''I cannot say."
''Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?"
''I'll never tell."
"Was it Nina Capelli?"
"I'm sorry, but I cannot name her."
"Was it Cathy Piriano?"
"My lips are sealed."
"Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?"
"Please, Father, I cannot tell you."
The priest sighs in frustration. "You're very tight-lipped, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now, you go and behave yourself."
Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend Franco slides over and whispers, "What'd you get?"
"'Four months vacation and five good leads."
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Riding The Wings Of A Dragonfly
The following is a poem written for me by my good friend Ellen Johnson. Thank you, Ellen. XOXOXO
For Shirley
I meant to comfort my friend
Whose life crashed twelve months ago
On a road she never meant to take
Sabotaged without warning
Still spinning, weeping and moaning in laughter
To chase the razor sharp cuts from opening
Again
What to say to a damaged heart
Without the predictable rhythm she once shared
Out of love
The mending is methodical winding down paths
She never imagined taking
And still she finds substance in gentle touches
Healing thoughts and the occasional lasting lyric
I told her time would go by
People would forget to hold her hand, for now she must
Become a soldier of endurance
Like the rest of us
The innocence rests in a safe place carved out in careful consideration
Of losing your child
You will dance out your afflicted demons in denial
Or find brilliant words to get through another hour
Cares will crash, smiles will collide and
The luminous bereaved butterfly will appear
And you will stand on dragonfly wings
On a trip down moonlit waters
Waiting for darkened dawn
Collecting your strength
And finding deeper dimensions than you ever conceived
And you will be alive
Vibrant with vision
With appreciation on your shoulder
Experience in your eyes
And my friend will have new meaning...
September 24, 2009
For Shirley
I meant to comfort my friend
Whose life crashed twelve months ago
On a road she never meant to take
Sabotaged without warning
Still spinning, weeping and moaning in laughter
To chase the razor sharp cuts from opening
Again
What to say to a damaged heart
Without the predictable rhythm she once shared
Out of love
The mending is methodical winding down paths
She never imagined taking
And still she finds substance in gentle touches
Healing thoughts and the occasional lasting lyric
I told her time would go by
People would forget to hold her hand, for now she must
Become a soldier of endurance
Like the rest of us
The innocence rests in a safe place carved out in careful consideration
Of losing your child
You will dance out your afflicted demons in denial
Or find brilliant words to get through another hour
Cares will crash, smiles will collide and
The luminous bereaved butterfly will appear
And you will stand on dragonfly wings
On a trip down moonlit waters
Waiting for darkened dawn
Collecting your strength
And finding deeper dimensions than you ever conceived
And you will be alive
Vibrant with vision
With appreciation on your shoulder
Experience in your eyes
And my friend will have new meaning...
September 24, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
In The Pink
You're angry... I know this
You're lonely... I feel this
You're crying at night
When nobody else is home
Come over here and let me hold your hand and hug you, darling
I promise you that it won't always feel this bad
There are so many things I want to say to you
You're the girl I used to be
You little heartbroken - me
You're laughing... but you're hiding
God, I know that trick too well
You forget that I've been you
And now... I'm just the shell
I promise, I love you
And everything will work out fine
Oh, just give it some time
The pain you feel is real
You're not asleep... but it's a nightmare
But you can wake up anytime
Oh, don't lose your passion
Or the fighter that's inside of you
You're the girl I used to be
The pissed off, complicated - me
Until we meet again.
- Excerpted from "Conversations With My 13-Year Old Self", Pink
You're lonely... I feel this
You're crying at night
When nobody else is home
Come over here and let me hold your hand and hug you, darling
I promise you that it won't always feel this bad
There are so many things I want to say to you
You're the girl I used to be
You little heartbroken - me
You're laughing... but you're hiding
God, I know that trick too well
You forget that I've been you
And now... I'm just the shell
I promise, I love you
And everything will work out fine
Oh, just give it some time
The pain you feel is real
You're not asleep... but it's a nightmare
But you can wake up anytime
Oh, don't lose your passion
Or the fighter that's inside of you
You're the girl I used to be
The pissed off, complicated - me
Until we meet again.
- Excerpted from "Conversations With My 13-Year Old Self", Pink
Monday, September 14, 2009
Christian Seely
I was getting dressed the other morning, and in the process of trying to hook my bra behind me I felt this shooting pain in my right hand. I let out a loud curse, and my dog Winnie immediately jumps up from her pillow and runs over to me, wagging her tail and making sure I was okay. Now, THAT’s love. If she were another person, that nice gesture would most likely be followed with a “Did you HAVE to make that noise? You freaked me out, I thought something was REALLY wrong!” See, that’s where animals get it right, and human beings just screw it all up. My dog loves me unconditionally, without reservations, without stipulations, without ulterior motives. There’s a saying I’ve heard before that sounds very “cutesie” at first glance, but really has a significant message if one stops and thinks about it: “My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am.” – Author Unknown. I LOVE a good saying…
Since starting my workout routine with the personal trainer, I increased my daily Winnie walks from one to two a day. Yes, I know it sets the bar higher, but knowing how much she loves to go for a walk, and how excited she is being able to walk twice a day now keeps me motivated to be consistent with it. Winnie asks me for nothing, yet she is always there with love to give me. Next to my son, I spend most of my time with her – one of the few non-virtual relationships that doesn’t make me feel boxed in. No expectations… I get to do whatever I want; very much like when the Bunny was alive.
So, Winnie and I were on our morning walk, and periodically – as dogs tend to like to do – she would forcefully stop in her tracks so she could smell this bush, or that brick wall… most likely holding evidence of some other dog passing by earlier. I use the word “forcefully” because most of the time I am in a hurry (I’m always in a hurry), rarely are these walks the meandering, ambling kind… Generally we walk the same route through my neighborhood, although sometimes I do feel compelled to turn left at the corner instead of right – just to switch it up for Winnie so it doesn’t become too boring – for both her and myself. She likes to stop in the same places usually, and one such stop today put us in front of a house I have walked past many times before. There is a particular bush Winnie always likes to investigate, directly to the right of the driveway.
For some unfathomable reason, I happened to look down at the pavement of the driveway, and noticed a message scratched out in the corner, most likely when the driveway was originally poured. I’m sure you’ve seen this before in the world, where there is wet concrete and random people carve their initials into it, to remain there indefinitely once the concrete hardens. I looked closer – it’s some kid’s name: Christian Seely. Probably either a current or previous inhabitant of this house. Underneath Christian’s name, a date: May 17, 1990.
May 17th is my wedding anniversary. So, on our morning walk, my vision registers this date, and immediately I get a tidal wave of thought coursing through my brain. How much longer will I look at the date and be able to say “that’s my wedding anniversary”? Technically speaking, I am no longer married – therefore, no anniversary to acknowledge. That thought makes me extraordinarily sad, and I am overtaken again by thoughts of “life is UNFAIR!” And after a few minutes of self-pity, my mind once again takes control and gently – because it understands, and also feels in its own way, the pain my heart is feeling – reminds me that all I can do is keep moving forward. One step at a time, Shirley. Don’t be so quick to get past this... your heart goes at its own pace. Don’t leave it behind.
They say that dogs – I guess all animals? – are very receptive to the thoughts and feelings of their owners. Winnie is a good girl; she finishes her investigation of the bush, and we continue on our journey. As is her way, she is just “there” with me. She doesn’t ask me questions, doesn’t make me talk about my feelings, doesn’t impatiently wait for me to “get over” anything. She just…. loves me. As for my heart, I’ve come to the realization that I will always love the Bunny. He changed my life; he added all the beautiful colors to my world.
And whoever has the thought to come into MY world is going to have to understand that...
...and just love me.
Since starting my workout routine with the personal trainer, I increased my daily Winnie walks from one to two a day. Yes, I know it sets the bar higher, but knowing how much she loves to go for a walk, and how excited she is being able to walk twice a day now keeps me motivated to be consistent with it. Winnie asks me for nothing, yet she is always there with love to give me. Next to my son, I spend most of my time with her – one of the few non-virtual relationships that doesn’t make me feel boxed in. No expectations… I get to do whatever I want; very much like when the Bunny was alive.
So, Winnie and I were on our morning walk, and periodically – as dogs tend to like to do – she would forcefully stop in her tracks so she could smell this bush, or that brick wall… most likely holding evidence of some other dog passing by earlier. I use the word “forcefully” because most of the time I am in a hurry (I’m always in a hurry), rarely are these walks the meandering, ambling kind… Generally we walk the same route through my neighborhood, although sometimes I do feel compelled to turn left at the corner instead of right – just to switch it up for Winnie so it doesn’t become too boring – for both her and myself. She likes to stop in the same places usually, and one such stop today put us in front of a house I have walked past many times before. There is a particular bush Winnie always likes to investigate, directly to the right of the driveway.
For some unfathomable reason, I happened to look down at the pavement of the driveway, and noticed a message scratched out in the corner, most likely when the driveway was originally poured. I’m sure you’ve seen this before in the world, where there is wet concrete and random people carve their initials into it, to remain there indefinitely once the concrete hardens. I looked closer – it’s some kid’s name: Christian Seely. Probably either a current or previous inhabitant of this house. Underneath Christian’s name, a date: May 17, 1990.
May 17th is my wedding anniversary. So, on our morning walk, my vision registers this date, and immediately I get a tidal wave of thought coursing through my brain. How much longer will I look at the date and be able to say “that’s my wedding anniversary”? Technically speaking, I am no longer married – therefore, no anniversary to acknowledge. That thought makes me extraordinarily sad, and I am overtaken again by thoughts of “life is UNFAIR!” And after a few minutes of self-pity, my mind once again takes control and gently – because it understands, and also feels in its own way, the pain my heart is feeling – reminds me that all I can do is keep moving forward. One step at a time, Shirley. Don’t be so quick to get past this... your heart goes at its own pace. Don’t leave it behind.
They say that dogs – I guess all animals? – are very receptive to the thoughts and feelings of their owners. Winnie is a good girl; she finishes her investigation of the bush, and we continue on our journey. As is her way, she is just “there” with me. She doesn’t ask me questions, doesn’t make me talk about my feelings, doesn’t impatiently wait for me to “get over” anything. She just…. loves me. As for my heart, I’ve come to the realization that I will always love the Bunny. He changed my life; he added all the beautiful colors to my world.
And whoever has the thought to come into MY world is going to have to understand that...
...and just love me.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Photograph Eve
Tomorrow is photograph day – the one I first mentioned back in my July 14th post. I went back and had to reread what I had written, to remind myself of the purpose of this project, because today, “Photograph Eve,” I realized I was feeling pretty agitated. I’ve been on edge since I got up this morning, and as the day has worn on, I have felt nauseous deep in the pit of my stomach… the feeling getting stronger and stronger with each passing hour.
I’ve been practicing my “sad look” – which of course requires that I fill my mind with the Bunny – and I have been mentally telling myself that once this project is completed, I cannot afford to spend any more long stretches of time pitying myself, wishing for things that just cannot be, or feeling ripped off by life. Yes, as positive as I try to be, I still feel those things. Once the sad look is captured in the photograph, I can stop carrying it around with me.
Things are still changing. Last week my cousin Lisa was visiting from Chicago, and spent part of the week at my house. She is in the part of my family that I am really close to, and as many friends and acquaintances as I have gathered in my life, there IS something about family that makes them special – something I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it is because all the barriers we put up to protect us from our everyday interactions with people just cease to exist with family. It’s quite an anomaly. Of course we spent some time talking about the Bunny and last December. My cousin wasn’t able to make it out at the time, but in hindsight it was a lot more enjoyable for me to have her here now, eight months later, when my life isn’t completely overwhelmed with emotional challenges. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a bunch of those! But not quite as many to deal with as back then – or maybe I’m just stronger to better handle them now? Hmmm.
After my shower, I was in my son’s bathroom drying my hair (the light is better in his bathroom than in mine), and my sad look ended with me bursting into tears. It’s not a long drawn-out thing; it's like I'm being skewered with a long sword, rather than suffocating slowly in a gas chamber. Intense, then nothing. I think that’s me doing that; I used to be great at shutting down my feelings, and I guess some things you never forget how to do, like riding a bicycle.
I imagine that this is what it would have been like had I known, that Saturday night before the Bunny’s accident, that my happy life with the Bunny would be finished. Looking back, I think the knowledge would have ruined my happiness. I often talk about that Saturday being the “happiest day of my life” – I had just gotten laid off from a job I hated, I was going to be able to work independently on things I enjoyed, I had my wonderful husband who adored me – I’m thankful for that Saturday, because it gives me a benchmark – a goal to work towards as life moves forward.
Tomorrow is the Bunny’s day. One of the last that we will spend “together.” I’ve got one more of these days left – the next one not till later in June of next year. I expect that one to be even tougher. But I also know I have all of my loved ones – friends and family – to get me through it.
I’ve been practicing my “sad look” – which of course requires that I fill my mind with the Bunny – and I have been mentally telling myself that once this project is completed, I cannot afford to spend any more long stretches of time pitying myself, wishing for things that just cannot be, or feeling ripped off by life. Yes, as positive as I try to be, I still feel those things. Once the sad look is captured in the photograph, I can stop carrying it around with me.
Things are still changing. Last week my cousin Lisa was visiting from Chicago, and spent part of the week at my house. She is in the part of my family that I am really close to, and as many friends and acquaintances as I have gathered in my life, there IS something about family that makes them special – something I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it is because all the barriers we put up to protect us from our everyday interactions with people just cease to exist with family. It’s quite an anomaly. Of course we spent some time talking about the Bunny and last December. My cousin wasn’t able to make it out at the time, but in hindsight it was a lot more enjoyable for me to have her here now, eight months later, when my life isn’t completely overwhelmed with emotional challenges. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a bunch of those! But not quite as many to deal with as back then – or maybe I’m just stronger to better handle them now? Hmmm.
After my shower, I was in my son’s bathroom drying my hair (the light is better in his bathroom than in mine), and my sad look ended with me bursting into tears. It’s not a long drawn-out thing; it's like I'm being skewered with a long sword, rather than suffocating slowly in a gas chamber. Intense, then nothing. I think that’s me doing that; I used to be great at shutting down my feelings, and I guess some things you never forget how to do, like riding a bicycle.
I imagine that this is what it would have been like had I known, that Saturday night before the Bunny’s accident, that my happy life with the Bunny would be finished. Looking back, I think the knowledge would have ruined my happiness. I often talk about that Saturday being the “happiest day of my life” – I had just gotten laid off from a job I hated, I was going to be able to work independently on things I enjoyed, I had my wonderful husband who adored me – I’m thankful for that Saturday, because it gives me a benchmark – a goal to work towards as life moves forward.
Tomorrow is the Bunny’s day. One of the last that we will spend “together.” I’ve got one more of these days left – the next one not till later in June of next year. I expect that one to be even tougher. But I also know I have all of my loved ones – friends and family – to get me through it.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Flying Blind
I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately, what with trying the internet matching and trying to put myself in the “dating” mindset – the mindset of a single, reasonably attractive woman in today’s world. It’s difficult for me, because I am unfamiliar with the social customs and traditions of dating; the “rules” that guide people’s behavior in those situations. I am used to two modes: alone, or in a serious intimate relationship – zero to sixty in 2.4 seconds. I am not one of those girls who really understands what it means to “casually date” or even date several people at once. I’m not sure I even want to learn how to do those things. But this is a whole new world, and nothing is off the table yet…
I’ve said many times that I was really lucky to have found the Bunny. REALLY lucky. I wasn’t looking for him – he found me, and he made me so happy – I loved being married to him. I wouldn’t have called us similar – we liked lots of different things, but I think they were complementary things. I think the most important thing was that we shared the same perspective of the world, our world… we fought fair (without getting “ugly” as I have seen some couples do), we agreed to disagree, and there wasn’t any problem we couldn’t work through with communication. This last point was very important, because when we first got together, my modus operandi in an argument was to shut down and say nothing. This response was carried over from my childhood – my mom would be screaming her head off, and I would just mentally shut down to escape it. Cut off my emotions so I wouldn’t have to feel it. So nothing could hurt me. This is what the Bunny inherited – one of the many challenges in being intimately involved with me, I guess.
Back in one of my earlier posts, I was talking about this guy I met that I really liked – the first since the death of my husband – yea, that didn’t work out. My heart, as usual, held on a lot longer than it should… There were many clear signals that there was absolutely no chance for a relationship, but in these situations, my heart dictates the pace of acceptance of reality. So… it happened again. Another guy – completely monopolizing my thoughts. Makes me happy on various levels when I’m around him. But it’s the same thing as before: many clear signals that there is absolutely no chance for a relationship (he’s already married). But my heart isn’t ready to let go – what a masochist!
I try to keep this on the down low for the most part, because while I am perfectly comfortable with torturing myself, I would not purposely want to worry the people in my life that care about me – and knowing I was all emotionally hung up on some married guy would definitely worry them. But I refuse to hold anyone accountable for feelings – myself included. My belief is that feelings cannot be controlled; like the tides of the ocean. Like the sunrise. Like the pull of gravity.
What I am accountable for are my actions. Where lots of people go wrong is that they allow their feelings to justify doing things that they know are wrong. I could be sitting here, thinking: I’m really attracted to this guy. I DESERVE him. So what that he’s married? Why should that stop me? And you know what? It does. And it’s not about what I deserve or don’t deserve. If I believe that the reason I am who I am is because I am a product of all the relationships in my life, I have to apply the same logic outside of myself – this guy’s relationship with his wife is one of the things that makes this guy who he is, too. Having been married a few times already, that is THE relationship out of the many in one’s life that completely dominates your perspective. I know this, based on the size of the hole that the Bunny left me with.
I get emails daily from the internet matching site – I sign in, I read the profiles of men the site has decided are “compatible” to me. A lot of them like to cook. Clean their homes. Take care of children. At least a lot of them also like music… that’s the only common interest that doesn’t make me want to vomit. Most of the time I’m laughing my ass off, because I’m not looking to date myself in male form. I still don’t have high hopes for the whole internet matching thing.
But take heart, all you lonely people out there: the best things in life come to you when you aren’t looking for them. And I’m guessing a few of them are going to come my way sooner or later, too. Peace.
I’ve said many times that I was really lucky to have found the Bunny. REALLY lucky. I wasn’t looking for him – he found me, and he made me so happy – I loved being married to him. I wouldn’t have called us similar – we liked lots of different things, but I think they were complementary things. I think the most important thing was that we shared the same perspective of the world, our world… we fought fair (without getting “ugly” as I have seen some couples do), we agreed to disagree, and there wasn’t any problem we couldn’t work through with communication. This last point was very important, because when we first got together, my modus operandi in an argument was to shut down and say nothing. This response was carried over from my childhood – my mom would be screaming her head off, and I would just mentally shut down to escape it. Cut off my emotions so I wouldn’t have to feel it. So nothing could hurt me. This is what the Bunny inherited – one of the many challenges in being intimately involved with me, I guess.
Back in one of my earlier posts, I was talking about this guy I met that I really liked – the first since the death of my husband – yea, that didn’t work out. My heart, as usual, held on a lot longer than it should… There were many clear signals that there was absolutely no chance for a relationship, but in these situations, my heart dictates the pace of acceptance of reality. So… it happened again. Another guy – completely monopolizing my thoughts. Makes me happy on various levels when I’m around him. But it’s the same thing as before: many clear signals that there is absolutely no chance for a relationship (he’s already married). But my heart isn’t ready to let go – what a masochist!
I try to keep this on the down low for the most part, because while I am perfectly comfortable with torturing myself, I would not purposely want to worry the people in my life that care about me – and knowing I was all emotionally hung up on some married guy would definitely worry them. But I refuse to hold anyone accountable for feelings – myself included. My belief is that feelings cannot be controlled; like the tides of the ocean. Like the sunrise. Like the pull of gravity.
What I am accountable for are my actions. Where lots of people go wrong is that they allow their feelings to justify doing things that they know are wrong. I could be sitting here, thinking: I’m really attracted to this guy. I DESERVE him. So what that he’s married? Why should that stop me? And you know what? It does. And it’s not about what I deserve or don’t deserve. If I believe that the reason I am who I am is because I am a product of all the relationships in my life, I have to apply the same logic outside of myself – this guy’s relationship with his wife is one of the things that makes this guy who he is, too. Having been married a few times already, that is THE relationship out of the many in one’s life that completely dominates your perspective. I know this, based on the size of the hole that the Bunny left me with.
I get emails daily from the internet matching site – I sign in, I read the profiles of men the site has decided are “compatible” to me. A lot of them like to cook. Clean their homes. Take care of children. At least a lot of them also like music… that’s the only common interest that doesn’t make me want to vomit. Most of the time I’m laughing my ass off, because I’m not looking to date myself in male form. I still don’t have high hopes for the whole internet matching thing.
But take heart, all you lonely people out there: the best things in life come to you when you aren’t looking for them. And I’m guessing a few of them are going to come my way sooner or later, too. Peace.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Competing Objectives
Yesterday I began working with a personal trainer. Which is ironic when you consider that I hate to exercise.. about as much as I hate taking vitamins. Okay, maybe “hate” is too strong a word. How about “REALLY hate.” Back in the days when the Bunny was still doing his 50-mile bicycle rides every other weekend (before the Roadstar), I was the one who could always be counted on to stay home and cook up a nice spread for the gang when they finished riding – appreciative recipients in one of my favorite activities: cooking for friends.
I’ve always been at odds with my physical appearance. I feel it brings me too much attention already, and one of the by-products of conditioning my body is that it potentially might look better to others. Yikes. If this were the only consideration, it would be enough to motivate me to NOT exercise (no matter how cute the personal trainer). But before the Bunny died – when we still had the luxury of discussing death in those hypothetical terms that people tend to use when they are young and relatively healthy – he made me promise that should he die, it was my mission to take his ashes to the top of Half Dome. For the uninformed, Half Dome is this huge mountain in Yosemite National Park. The Bunny and I were married in Yosemite, in a meadow directly in front of this very mountain. The Bunny himself had hiked up Half Dome at least twice previously, that I knew of. Myself, I never had the slightest inclination to leave the campsite, much less strap on hiking boots and spend the better part of a day traipsing around on some mountain. According to documented information, it’s approximately 15.5 miles roundtrip (with a 4737-foot altitude gain). If you are looking for me, I’ll be napping in the tent.
Exercising elicits a wide spectrum of feelings from me. My trainer’s intent is for me to “get more in touch with my body” which draws a strange parallel to my formative years, when I tended to suppress all of my true feelings and emotions because what with all the trauma in my life it was just too overwhelming – there were too many intense feelings to process. Getting in touch with my body implies that I have to care about my body, I have to love my body, I have to nurture it, take care of it… right now, my body and I have this truce, more or less. I need to be nice to it or it’s going to screw me over. So it receives the bare minimum – food, rest, regular cleanings, etc. But love and nurture it? Hmmm. That’s a lot to ask.
Just to annoy me, my body’s reactions to exercise range from “making me feel nauseous” to something almost sexual. As I said, it’s a wide spectrum. Kind of like people who are addicted to drama, and feed off of the extreme highs and lows. So it makes it hard for me to get my head wrapped around what I am doing; to develop a rhythm… also working against me is the recognition of my goal – my goal in exercising is to climb up that mountain. My goal is to let go of the life I had with the Bunny. At this very moment, his ashes are sitting in a box on my dresser. The box is wrapped in plain white paper – the kind of paper you would wrap a fine piece of china in, to protect it from damage during a move. The kind of paper you would wrap seafood in, a nice piece of salmon that you found at the meat counter. It’s anything but pretentious, mostly unnoticed with all the clutter in my bedroom – but I notice. Every time I walk in there. Every time I go to sleep. Every time I put my clean socks and underwear into my dresser drawers. I notice, and I remember.
I go back to work with my personal trainer in four days. He’s coaching me – and trusting me – to do these exercises on my own, at home. He is absolutely confident that if I work hard, we will get me and the Bunny up that mountain, approximately 10 months from now.
Getting myself back down, alone… is entirely up to me.
I’ve always been at odds with my physical appearance. I feel it brings me too much attention already, and one of the by-products of conditioning my body is that it potentially might look better to others. Yikes. If this were the only consideration, it would be enough to motivate me to NOT exercise (no matter how cute the personal trainer). But before the Bunny died – when we still had the luxury of discussing death in those hypothetical terms that people tend to use when they are young and relatively healthy – he made me promise that should he die, it was my mission to take his ashes to the top of Half Dome. For the uninformed, Half Dome is this huge mountain in Yosemite National Park. The Bunny and I were married in Yosemite, in a meadow directly in front of this very mountain. The Bunny himself had hiked up Half Dome at least twice previously, that I knew of. Myself, I never had the slightest inclination to leave the campsite, much less strap on hiking boots and spend the better part of a day traipsing around on some mountain. According to documented information, it’s approximately 15.5 miles roundtrip (with a 4737-foot altitude gain). If you are looking for me, I’ll be napping in the tent.
Exercising elicits a wide spectrum of feelings from me. My trainer’s intent is for me to “get more in touch with my body” which draws a strange parallel to my formative years, when I tended to suppress all of my true feelings and emotions because what with all the trauma in my life it was just too overwhelming – there were too many intense feelings to process. Getting in touch with my body implies that I have to care about my body, I have to love my body, I have to nurture it, take care of it… right now, my body and I have this truce, more or less. I need to be nice to it or it’s going to screw me over. So it receives the bare minimum – food, rest, regular cleanings, etc. But love and nurture it? Hmmm. That’s a lot to ask.
Just to annoy me, my body’s reactions to exercise range from “making me feel nauseous” to something almost sexual. As I said, it’s a wide spectrum. Kind of like people who are addicted to drama, and feed off of the extreme highs and lows. So it makes it hard for me to get my head wrapped around what I am doing; to develop a rhythm… also working against me is the recognition of my goal – my goal in exercising is to climb up that mountain. My goal is to let go of the life I had with the Bunny. At this very moment, his ashes are sitting in a box on my dresser. The box is wrapped in plain white paper – the kind of paper you would wrap a fine piece of china in, to protect it from damage during a move. The kind of paper you would wrap seafood in, a nice piece of salmon that you found at the meat counter. It’s anything but pretentious, mostly unnoticed with all the clutter in my bedroom – but I notice. Every time I walk in there. Every time I go to sleep. Every time I put my clean socks and underwear into my dresser drawers. I notice, and I remember.
I go back to work with my personal trainer in four days. He’s coaching me – and trusting me – to do these exercises on my own, at home. He is absolutely confident that if I work hard, we will get me and the Bunny up that mountain, approximately 10 months from now.
Getting myself back down, alone… is entirely up to me.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Playing With Matches
Recently I decided that I was spending too much time holed up in my house – easy to do when you consider that I work from home, attend online school, and do most of my social interacting via Face Book. I like Face Book for just that reason; it allows my friends to hear about the goings-on in my life without me having to physically go anywhere or talk to anyone. Not to say that I actively avoid physically going anywhere, I just prefer that someone calls me up and invites me out to do some activity or other – I typically won’t initiate those excursions myself.
So, via a message I posted recently to my friends that I would be “open” to having one of them – who knows me well enough to be familiar with my particular idiosyncrasies and preferences, mind you – set me up on a blind date, I got a slew of responses, one of which included a suggestion for internet dating. At first blush I discarded the idea, but then in a face-to-face conversation with another friend shortly after my post, she also gave me the benefit of her own – and others' she had heard about – experiences in the arena of internet dating. Needless to say, I was motivated enough to go onto one of these relationship matching sites and create a profile.
From the get-go, I already have a negative perception, even before anything concrete has happened. My reasons for the negatively stem from my unfamiliarity about the expectations of the other people on the site who are “seeking a relationship” and my belief that true relating involves body language (which is impossible in a virtual environment). I also noticed – after supplying an overwhelming amount information about my preferences for a mate – that I wasn’t even sure I was qualified to be answering these questions! Truly, what do I know about picking the right person? If it’s anything like my ability to pick out a good outfit, I am in serious trouble!
Beyond all of my fears and insecurities, I was able to complete my profile. Then began the matching… eeeeeek. I don’t know if it’s just me, but it is a little intimidating to get emails that say “Meet Brad: Someone compatible with who you are on the inside” or “Find out if your new match Ken is who you’ve been looking for” – who I’ve been looking for? How odd it is, because in my head I am “not looking for someone” – I just want to get out of my house a little bit more! Why does this feel so convoluted already? The other unnerving thing is the sheer number of matches that come through. It’s been a day and a half, and already I have 18 people matched up with me, based on similarities in my profile or whatever that other person is looking for. In the real (i.e. physical) world, meeting new people happens at a much slower pace… easier for me to process emotionally. Through the relationship matching site, I feel like I am in a big auditorium, or standing in the middle of a football field, with a big, flashing neon sign over my head that says “HEY! Come ask me out, I’m single!” It kind of strips away all the fate, chance, universe, and leaves me feeling a bit cold, lonely, and desperate.
I think back to the Bunny. When our paths crossed, I was as far away from “looking for someone” as I think a person can get. What is bound to happen to my chances if I tie myself to the train tracks? How could the universe possibly send me the person I am supposed to find, if I am trying to exert too much control over the variables of that meeting? Besides, compatibility is all well and good, but the true test is my gut. Attraction is felt inside (for me, specifically), after a handful of times of interacting in the world. If I get matched up with 18 people every two days, and let’s just say it takes two dates for me to know if that elusive ingredient is there… that’s about 540 dates in a month. I’m already exhausted, just picturing it!
I went into my profile this morning and changed my preferences to “don’t send me any more matches until I ask for them.” Maybe I’m not ready… but my fear is that I will become so comfortable with being by myself all of the time, holed up in my house, that as time passes it’s going to more and more difficult to break out of the habit. A little discomfort now – before I become too set in my ways – is probably good for me. Then I think: I’ve put it out into the universe. The universe knows where my head is at, and should it choose to help me in my endeavors, the universe will certainly make it known to me. So I think I will not worry too much about all of this stuff now, and just have a little faith that everything will work out as it should.
Those matches – one of them DID send me what’s called an “icebreaker” message. I sent back a reply – and I’m sure the guy ran for the hills! – but who knows, maybe I’ll get another message from him yet. I’ll deal with those possibilities when I get there. But one interesting thing I did notice: he had something in his profile which was exactly something I thought about putting in my own – but didn’t. Something a bit out of the box, something that to reveal to strangers had to be a bit risky, a bit “out of the box”… interesting. And so, I am left here with a bit of hope that however things turn out, I will NOT spend the rest of my life alone, holed up in my house.
Nor do I have to burn the house down.
So, via a message I posted recently to my friends that I would be “open” to having one of them – who knows me well enough to be familiar with my particular idiosyncrasies and preferences, mind you – set me up on a blind date, I got a slew of responses, one of which included a suggestion for internet dating. At first blush I discarded the idea, but then in a face-to-face conversation with another friend shortly after my post, she also gave me the benefit of her own – and others' she had heard about – experiences in the arena of internet dating. Needless to say, I was motivated enough to go onto one of these relationship matching sites and create a profile.
From the get-go, I already have a negative perception, even before anything concrete has happened. My reasons for the negatively stem from my unfamiliarity about the expectations of the other people on the site who are “seeking a relationship” and my belief that true relating involves body language (which is impossible in a virtual environment). I also noticed – after supplying an overwhelming amount information about my preferences for a mate – that I wasn’t even sure I was qualified to be answering these questions! Truly, what do I know about picking the right person? If it’s anything like my ability to pick out a good outfit, I am in serious trouble!
Beyond all of my fears and insecurities, I was able to complete my profile. Then began the matching… eeeeeek. I don’t know if it’s just me, but it is a little intimidating to get emails that say “Meet Brad: Someone compatible with who you are on the inside” or “Find out if your new match Ken is who you’ve been looking for” – who I’ve been looking for? How odd it is, because in my head I am “not looking for someone” – I just want to get out of my house a little bit more! Why does this feel so convoluted already? The other unnerving thing is the sheer number of matches that come through. It’s been a day and a half, and already I have 18 people matched up with me, based on similarities in my profile or whatever that other person is looking for. In the real (i.e. physical) world, meeting new people happens at a much slower pace… easier for me to process emotionally. Through the relationship matching site, I feel like I am in a big auditorium, or standing in the middle of a football field, with a big, flashing neon sign over my head that says “HEY! Come ask me out, I’m single!” It kind of strips away all the fate, chance, universe, and leaves me feeling a bit cold, lonely, and desperate.
I think back to the Bunny. When our paths crossed, I was as far away from “looking for someone” as I think a person can get. What is bound to happen to my chances if I tie myself to the train tracks? How could the universe possibly send me the person I am supposed to find, if I am trying to exert too much control over the variables of that meeting? Besides, compatibility is all well and good, but the true test is my gut. Attraction is felt inside (for me, specifically), after a handful of times of interacting in the world. If I get matched up with 18 people every two days, and let’s just say it takes two dates for me to know if that elusive ingredient is there… that’s about 540 dates in a month. I’m already exhausted, just picturing it!
I went into my profile this morning and changed my preferences to “don’t send me any more matches until I ask for them.” Maybe I’m not ready… but my fear is that I will become so comfortable with being by myself all of the time, holed up in my house, that as time passes it’s going to more and more difficult to break out of the habit. A little discomfort now – before I become too set in my ways – is probably good for me. Then I think: I’ve put it out into the universe. The universe knows where my head is at, and should it choose to help me in my endeavors, the universe will certainly make it known to me. So I think I will not worry too much about all of this stuff now, and just have a little faith that everything will work out as it should.
Those matches – one of them DID send me what’s called an “icebreaker” message. I sent back a reply – and I’m sure the guy ran for the hills! – but who knows, maybe I’ll get another message from him yet. I’ll deal with those possibilities when I get there. But one interesting thing I did notice: he had something in his profile which was exactly something I thought about putting in my own – but didn’t. Something a bit out of the box, something that to reveal to strangers had to be a bit risky, a bit “out of the box”… interesting. And so, I am left here with a bit of hope that however things turn out, I will NOT spend the rest of my life alone, holed up in my house.
Nor do I have to burn the house down.
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