It's bizarre how quickly my family and female friends who've been hit hard with an out of the blue divorice....suddenly get so darn svelte...so darn fast!
I think it's the...."I'll show him what he's missing out on"- mindset that really motivates.
The problem for me has been....It almost seems like a betrayal to "suddenly" do what Mike wanted me to do for years....lose the extra weight. Even to 'not so suddenly' lose the extra pounds...still sits awkwardly on my heart. Because he sooooo would've loved it. Mike loved me skinny. And I was...for almost our entire marriage. I think it was about 51 when the pounds really jumped on. Lucky for me, I'm tall. So...I could look a whooooole lot worse :).
But...even so, I know my plantar fascitis that hit me so hard and took a year and a half to finally get over...would've ended sooner if I wasn't truckin around the extra weight on my feet. And I don't want to get diabetes which is more likely as I get older IF I don't drop poundage. My last fasting blood sugar was taken last week after I got rear-ended so badly (totaled my adored Pontiac Vibe and left me pretty shaken, concussed, bruised my back and neck and...the worse injury is I sprained my ankle and contused my lower calf so that....it still (10 days later) is a problem for me to walk and/or exercise like I should to lose weight or...live life actually :0. Haven't done any nursing shifts since the accident either cause I know I wouldn't be able to get through a 12 hr shift on this ankle.
However...I know it will heal up. But its frustrating. The plan (in my head and even verbalized to Amie a few weeks ago) was to go to Japan. Check! Return home. Check! Start exercising routinely using the Aquatic Center, YMCA membership, Tai Chi and Work Out VHS tapes (yes...VHS. I've had them awhile or picked them up used :). And get on the elliptical that I enthusiastically bought last fall and that Amie uses consistently. lol. All of which are.... definitely NOT Checked.
The other part of my plan was Jenny Craig. Cause I really do just need to watch my portions. I overeat...whatever is in front...part of the clean plate club. But I don't really have a huge sweet tooth. And I am very loyal to food...if I like it, I could eat it every day. (Picture peanut butter and raspberry jalapeno jam on toast and I would be super happy just having two of those and some breyers mint chocolate chip ice cream as the only things I eat for a whole week...and I'd be okay with that. ). Cause I am loyal...like a golden retriever. And I love organic fruits and vegies..eat them ALOT.
Plus...when I don't have plantar fascitis or a sprained ankle/calf going on...I garden, landscape, clean, blow out leaves, paint, restore, clean, and climb the myriad of stairs that exists in my own home and my vacation rentals that I'm constantly inside handling/fixing/cleaning/decorating etc. So....I classify my activity level normally...as moderate. I am not a sedentary person. And I love tennis, golf and beach swims and pools and swimming period. I just don't like to jog. Or run. Or do marathons or 5 K's. :( Even though the 5 K mud run with Mike a few years ago was a total hoot and a half!!!! And I have done the Savannah Bridge 3 K Run, Walk or Crawl...twice. But...the fact the word "crawl" was in the title is what drew me.
But....here I am. Squirming between a size 14 and 16. And recently...seeming to have a harder time finding the 14's and sometimes....even the 16's. Hrmmmphf! Not happening. Simply not. So....I figured before Japan that if I did Jenny Craig, I could see the actual portions laid out before me and really learn how to create that type of portion control in my own life...using organic of course.
Besides...I can count calories. I know the bottom line of weight loss...eat less than you put out. And I do blame the frozen shoulders (2010 and 2011) and the Plantar Fascitis (2013 - 14) but....can't always keep pointing a finger at something else when I know that I want another basket of Olive Garden breadsticks thank you kindly. And the bread at Outback...Mmmmmm. Definitely seconds on that basket. And don't even get me going about the bread at Texas Roadhouse.
Why is it that my favorite steak places...are the ones that have really good bread? Interesting.
Could be one of those epiphany moments :).
Anyhoooo. Weight Watchers is confusing with their crazy whatchmacallits instead of simply calorie counting. And I can calorie count...I just get lazy. So, I'm figurin my real challenge isn't calories, counting or a love of starch. It's that I don't do the correct portions. And I hate to eat when I'm not hungry so a 6 meal/day routine is actually a pain for me. Though then...I go till I AM hungry...really hungry...and I eat alot in one setting.
So...I am going to relearn appropriate portions and start doing what I hate...eat at regular intervals. I joined Jenny Craig two days ago and am on day two. It's not awful. The food tastes really good. It's just irritating to have to eat when I don't feel likeit. And...I'm lucky I don't have a
9 - 5 job and that I'm not doing the 12 hr nursing shifts for this particular moment in time too...so that I can do this and get used to it without the interference of a work shift.
With nursing... you're often extremely blessed to get a bladder break! Much less Jennies schedule of breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack and water, water, water water plus squeeze in throughout your unlimited vegie/fruit options :). But....the 10,000 steps /day exercise end of the weight loss pendulum would be a breeze! My fitbit said so far I just under 5000 steps today. And that is probably going to be it...till I heal up more. Then.... I will go for it.
And Mike...he would be so proud of me. And so encouraging. Actually....it would be a pain because he would soooo want me to lose the weight that his encouragement would probably just make me mad. I'd be like....what?! Love me as I am! I used to tell him...look around you Mister...we live in the SOUTH! I am lookin GOOD :)). It's true. I am. Just not the kind of California-girl skinny good I used to be. And I think I want that back.
But the widow factor actually.... a bit of a deterrent. To do it. To lose it. Now. When he's gone. Losing weight (the amount I want to lose) is a bit weird because I don't have the same thoughts or motivations like many hurt divorcee's may have. I don't need to get "lookin good" so that I can either "find a guy" or "show an idiot what he's lost".
During the earlier months since Mike died.... the idea of losing the weight I needed to get off actually did feel in a part of my brain as if doing so would be non-verbally saying to the world.... "okay...I look good... ready to find a man". Seeing many women that I knew, who had gotten divorced and...boom.... lost weight, looked great and...boom...seemed to pretty quickly get remarried again probably had alot to do with my hesitancy to do something that looked similar.
But...those misty partially formed thoughts did enter my heart. Becoming a size 10 again. Even a 12. But 10 is preferable. The idea ....still kinda hurts. Just typing this is making me start to cry. Because, as I said already, it seems so unfair. That I lose it when he always so wanted that very thing. To do it when he is not here... really does feel weirdly betrayal-ish.
What would've been AWESOME is if grief made me lose my appetite! THAT would've been the way to go. But no. Not me. Didn't lose anything...not ANYTHING. Pounds or appetite. Despite being incredibly grief-stricken. Of course...I did go through alot of days where I would eat a half-gallon mint-chocolate chip Breyers in one sitting, this was actually repeated quite...repeatedly. So that might explain it a bit.
But I'm not stupid. I have reached a "point". Mikes' desire for me to lose the weight for the past 22 years (Yep. 22. I've only been actually overweight for about 5. But Mike loved really skinny. He actually wanted me to lose weight when I was at my "ideal weight" . So losing weight with Mike gone when I knew it was such a big thing for him....really does have weird implications in my heart since weight was a roller coaster argument for a number of years...even when I didn't feel I was overweight.
Sigh. Again.....Chin up. Movin on. It's been a year and a half. I've wanted to lose the weight since I was 50 cause by then I really needed to lose about 15 - 20 lbs. (My version of what I needed to lose, not Mikes :). And ever since, the scale just keeps going up. Now... I'm 55. No plantar fascitis to fight. No frozen shoulders to fight and recover from (had surgery). BTW...I really think going organic, avoiding preservatives and doing tai chi/stretching this past year has been HUGE in giving me back my flexibility and keeping inflammation that (evidently) I'm prone to...really at bay. I think inflammation is even running in the opposite direction.
So...here goes. Jenny Craig, it is on! And I feel good...dadadadadada DA. :). LOL.
Oh shoot! It's 8:18 pm. I'm missing my "Once Upon a Time" series. Gotta go. Might do some 5lb weights for my biceps though....while in the recliner of course :)
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Missing
Is it so wrong to want to be dead so that I can see, face to face, Mike again? To be able to just...be WITH him again. To be able to talk, and talk, and feel his arms around me again (not just imagine them). To be able to talk about how much I wish we had had more time to talk...before he died. All the things I wanted to talk about but that were squashed down. Missed because of all the other demands.....the time eaters. Groceries, juicing, peeling, cooking, banking, cleaning, inquiries and housecleaning our house so it was as germ free as I could get it. Then having to deal with all the cleaning, gardening and stuff required with our vacation rental business. And of course...everyday but Sunday Mike had work...work...work . And Nursing hours still had to be done as well.
So So So much interfered. So little time to talk. So many other people trying to get in their moments. And they needed to. It's awful that Amie couldn't get in hers because of being stuck in Disney. And I understand Mikes family needing theirs. But I just feel so cheated out of the time I needed and wanted and still soooooo miss between Mike and I. It's awful.
I am looking with such anticipation at dying. Because I want to be with him again...so badly. So incredibly badly. Waking up each day....always like the movie 50 first dates. In that movie, each day she wakes, the heroine has to learn and realize anew that time has passed from a specific date in her past and that her life is different than she knew before. That's what it is like for me. Each morning, I have to realize all over again that Mike...isn't here. Isn't going to be here. Ever And it's so painful and awful. I just want to die. To be where he is. To be with him.
I'm not suicidal in that I would kill myself. God alone has the right to say when my life is to be done. But I wouldn't mind (except for the girls) at ALL....having a bomb go off and finding myself standing in heaven next to Michael and Jesus.
The worst thing is to realize that Jesus still....is getting second billing. That is wrong. But it is what it is. I miss Mike so badly and he is who I really really really want to see. First. There's probably so much sin and bad stuff in that truth. I don't know what the sin is exactly that it represents...that Mike gets first billing for who I will run to when I hit heavens doors...except that Jesus is probably going to be who I see first. But if they were side by side....I don't know. I soooo miss Mike. I just want his arms around me again and face next to mine whispering he loves me and is so glad to be with me again. Then...after that....I'd love to sit in Jesus's lap and talk and learn and learn and talk and see....and understand everything but, mostly what I want to understand is...the why's of all this. And then be able to jump joyfully out of his lap, join hands with Mike and go off together to have eternity there...with both of us...at the same time.
But...I know the girls need me. Imperfect as I am as a Mom....and I'm pretty imperfect. Made more so by the fact I am having such a difficult time missing Mike. And that is constantly putting their own loss in front of them. So it makes it harder for them. And my perfection...just keeps getting dented and dented and broken even more.
I think today is hard because I'm just past St Patricks Day. St Pats is BIG in Savannah. And Mike and I had our routine....We'd bike or walk down to Bay Street each afternoon or evening after he finished working. I'd usually hit the parade route with the dog during the day. The girls would do their own thing with their friends. This year...very different. I never even went to Bay Street and walking the parade route with the dog also was not at all the same either. But the fact it was such a day that had lots of Mike memories in it...was what made it so hard. Every holiday is like that! I hate the holidays now. Hate them. They are all awful.
I remember some of the "main" ones being really hard after my Dad died. But not every single one. Not Mom's Day. Not St Pats. Not Valentines. Not anniversaries. Not 4th of July. Not..not..not. Same thing with losing others like Aunts/Uncles/Grandparents and even the miscarriage. None of those really affected how I viewed holidays. But Mike affects every siiiinnnngggle one. So...hate them. Even the girls birthdays are affected.
Sigh...blow out air from cheeks...frown....shoulders slump. Breathe in. Straighten shoulders. Take another deep breath. Move on.
So So So much interfered. So little time to talk. So many other people trying to get in their moments. And they needed to. It's awful that Amie couldn't get in hers because of being stuck in Disney. And I understand Mikes family needing theirs. But I just feel so cheated out of the time I needed and wanted and still soooooo miss between Mike and I. It's awful.
I am looking with such anticipation at dying. Because I want to be with him again...so badly. So incredibly badly. Waking up each day....always like the movie 50 first dates. In that movie, each day she wakes, the heroine has to learn and realize anew that time has passed from a specific date in her past and that her life is different than she knew before. That's what it is like for me. Each morning, I have to realize all over again that Mike...isn't here. Isn't going to be here. Ever And it's so painful and awful. I just want to die. To be where he is. To be with him.
I'm not suicidal in that I would kill myself. God alone has the right to say when my life is to be done. But I wouldn't mind (except for the girls) at ALL....having a bomb go off and finding myself standing in heaven next to Michael and Jesus.
The worst thing is to realize that Jesus still....is getting second billing. That is wrong. But it is what it is. I miss Mike so badly and he is who I really really really want to see. First. There's probably so much sin and bad stuff in that truth. I don't know what the sin is exactly that it represents...that Mike gets first billing for who I will run to when I hit heavens doors...except that Jesus is probably going to be who I see first. But if they were side by side....I don't know. I soooo miss Mike. I just want his arms around me again and face next to mine whispering he loves me and is so glad to be with me again. Then...after that....I'd love to sit in Jesus's lap and talk and learn and learn and talk and see....and understand everything but, mostly what I want to understand is...the why's of all this. And then be able to jump joyfully out of his lap, join hands with Mike and go off together to have eternity there...with both of us...at the same time.
But...I know the girls need me. Imperfect as I am as a Mom....and I'm pretty imperfect. Made more so by the fact I am having such a difficult time missing Mike. And that is constantly putting their own loss in front of them. So it makes it harder for them. And my perfection...just keeps getting dented and dented and broken even more.
I think today is hard because I'm just past St Patricks Day. St Pats is BIG in Savannah. And Mike and I had our routine....We'd bike or walk down to Bay Street each afternoon or evening after he finished working. I'd usually hit the parade route with the dog during the day. The girls would do their own thing with their friends. This year...very different. I never even went to Bay Street and walking the parade route with the dog also was not at all the same either. But the fact it was such a day that had lots of Mike memories in it...was what made it so hard. Every holiday is like that! I hate the holidays now. Hate them. They are all awful.
I remember some of the "main" ones being really hard after my Dad died. But not every single one. Not Mom's Day. Not St Pats. Not Valentines. Not anniversaries. Not 4th of July. Not..not..not. Same thing with losing others like Aunts/Uncles/Grandparents and even the miscarriage. None of those really affected how I viewed holidays. But Mike affects every siiiinnnngggle one. So...hate them. Even the girls birthdays are affected.
Sigh...blow out air from cheeks...frown....shoulders slump. Breathe in. Straighten shoulders. Take another deep breath. Move on.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Definitely have moved forward....feels good
In spite of adjusting to life without Mike.....and being rear-ended bigtime (slammmmmmed into was I while nearly stationary at a red light by an idiot 22 year old who had to be on something...no skid marks..said he was "trying to pass me??!!!" My car literally flew across an 8 lane intersection from the impact. All the debris from my Vibe lay back on the other side of the intersection behind the crosswalk line where only moments before my car had sat waiting for the light to change. Crazy! My thoughts were so fuzzy....I thought maybe a bomb had gone off! Then it was like..."no, I've been hit, I've been hit". But when I looked in my rearview mirror...there was nothing there! Nothing! I was so befuddled! I knew I was hurt. All this stuff was now in my lap and across the front seats but my air bag hadn't gone off. "How could I have been hit with no one behind me?" "Was it a bomb?". Wasn't till I opened my car door and shakily tried to get out that I looked ahead of me ands saw the guys car who rear ended me straddling the street median that had been across from us on the intersection. So...pretty crazy.
Yet..despite the busyness from the return from Japan and the new injuries and ..having now no car...(it was totaled)...and all the usual missing of Mike that is always there..... I feel different.
There is a difference!!!! On the "inside" of me.
It bemuses me when I realize that...."I am doing better...much better... post Mike". Wow. To actually be able to truthfully say that!
THIS is a milestone.
So it belongs in this blog. This point...hadn't been reached when I was in Japan. It's been in the few days since my arrival home.
There were several "heart" talks about Mike with Amy while in various hotels and on buses while we were in Japan and on the plane home. Those helped. Facetimes with Katie while in Japan t...even though brief... helped. Going through the Hiroshima Museum with all the ensuing chaotic and convuluted thought processes that it stirred up within me...helped. And, the 18 months that have passed since Mike died....with all their events.....helped. Mostly, your prayers. And Gods unending patience! He is beyond amazing. His mercy/grace/comfort and love that He has cradled me with for these past months...I am beyod grateful for. All of the above has coelesced into THIS moment. When I can honestly say "I am good". I've said those three words so many, many times. I'd be exhausted trying to count the sheer number of times. But they've never rung true. Not to me.
But they do ....right now. this moment. Wow.. And Whoa. And...Hmmmmm.
It's weird. To recognize that there is a new feeling in me! A new emotion. Or rather...an old emotion that I haven't felt in so long. This emotion has been so foreign for the past 18 months. It feels brand new!
Hope mixed with smidges of joy. I will forever remember the when of this. When I recognized I was feeling it! It was yesterday morning.
Yesterday morning I woke up and threw my arm over to the side of the bed where Michael had always slept. And he wasn't there. Not physically. But I laughed and talked to him. Cause I knew he was there...listening and watching. Because I had asked Jesus to let his spirit come and be with me when I needed him to. To give him exits from heaven for those moments. There were plenty of other moments where Mike could enjoy heaven. The Bible says our time...our lives...are just a blink of God's eye. So my miniscule moments with Mike right here...aren't going to ruin any heavenly plan. It won't break the spiritual dynamic that exists nor forever alter the routes planned that Mankind will take within God's Big Picture Scenario that must play out between Satan and God.
So as I lie there with my arm thrown out toward Mike... my eyes crinkle and I smile. Realization washing over me that I have been so blessed to have had...and still have (though I can't see him, he's still there) such a man in my life. Mike. A man who truly had loved me deeply and "unconditionally".
I am a handful. Not an easy package. My nickname from my parents growing up was "pistol" and "tiger". Yet Mike did. Really did....love me.
And Jesus too. This wonderful awesome God in Man form...who loves me...really loves me. Again, totally unconditionally. Me...crazy, unique, impulsive, very imperfect me...has been loved more than others ever get to be loved. I've been loved and am loved (eternity-wise) by two incredible men. Wow.
I smiled and felt hugged while lying there in my bed this morning. I am luckier than many. Two men have adored and loved me. I could feel my self esteem rise. Which is a good thing when you can recognize that you are a handful. I need to know that I'm worth loving in spite of it all.
And...this morning....I did. And it felt good. Still does. Life is going to go on. Don't know what it holds but...I'm finally looking forward to it. I'm contentedly smiling right now as I type. Even with the Walking Dead on the TV.
I love Jesus, love the Holy Spirit God the Father....and enjoy watching Walking Dead. Can't abide watching shows that have true evil in them. Evil is real. WD...fake as can be. Cool plot though. But WD...well....It's just a virus. So to me, it's a study in survival. But WD may not be everyone else's cup of tea. That's okay. As I said... I'm quite unique. And very loved in spite of it. :)
Yet..despite the busyness from the return from Japan and the new injuries and ..having now no car...(it was totaled)...and all the usual missing of Mike that is always there..... I feel different.
There is a difference!!!! On the "inside" of me.
It bemuses me when I realize that...."I am doing better...much better... post Mike". Wow. To actually be able to truthfully say that!
THIS is a milestone.
So it belongs in this blog. This point...hadn't been reached when I was in Japan. It's been in the few days since my arrival home.
There were several "heart" talks about Mike with Amy while in various hotels and on buses while we were in Japan and on the plane home. Those helped. Facetimes with Katie while in Japan t...even though brief... helped. Going through the Hiroshima Museum with all the ensuing chaotic and convuluted thought processes that it stirred up within me...helped. And, the 18 months that have passed since Mike died....with all their events.....helped. Mostly, your prayers. And Gods unending patience! He is beyond amazing. His mercy/grace/comfort and love that He has cradled me with for these past months...I am beyod grateful for. All of the above has coelesced into THIS moment. When I can honestly say "I am good". I've said those three words so many, many times. I'd be exhausted trying to count the sheer number of times. But they've never rung true. Not to me.
But they do ....right now. this moment. Wow.. And Whoa. And...Hmmmmm.
It's weird. To recognize that there is a new feeling in me! A new emotion. Or rather...an old emotion that I haven't felt in so long. This emotion has been so foreign for the past 18 months. It feels brand new!
Hope mixed with smidges of joy. I will forever remember the when of this. When I recognized I was feeling it! It was yesterday morning.
Yesterday morning I woke up and threw my arm over to the side of the bed where Michael had always slept. And he wasn't there. Not physically. But I laughed and talked to him. Cause I knew he was there...listening and watching. Because I had asked Jesus to let his spirit come and be with me when I needed him to. To give him exits from heaven for those moments. There were plenty of other moments where Mike could enjoy heaven. The Bible says our time...our lives...are just a blink of God's eye. So my miniscule moments with Mike right here...aren't going to ruin any heavenly plan. It won't break the spiritual dynamic that exists nor forever alter the routes planned that Mankind will take within God's Big Picture Scenario that must play out between Satan and God.
So as I lie there with my arm thrown out toward Mike... my eyes crinkle and I smile. Realization washing over me that I have been so blessed to have had...and still have (though I can't see him, he's still there) such a man in my life. Mike. A man who truly had loved me deeply and "unconditionally".
I am a handful. Not an easy package. My nickname from my parents growing up was "pistol" and "tiger". Yet Mike did. Really did....love me.
And Jesus too. This wonderful awesome God in Man form...who loves me...really loves me. Again, totally unconditionally. Me...crazy, unique, impulsive, very imperfect me...has been loved more than others ever get to be loved. I've been loved and am loved (eternity-wise) by two incredible men. Wow.
I smiled and felt hugged while lying there in my bed this morning. I am luckier than many. Two men have adored and loved me. I could feel my self esteem rise. Which is a good thing when you can recognize that you are a handful. I need to know that I'm worth loving in spite of it all.
And...this morning....I did. And it felt good. Still does. Life is going to go on. Don't know what it holds but...I'm finally looking forward to it. I'm contentedly smiling right now as I type. Even with the Walking Dead on the TV.
I love Jesus, love the Holy Spirit God the Father....and enjoy watching Walking Dead. Can't abide watching shows that have true evil in them. Evil is real. WD...fake as can be. Cool plot though. But WD...well....It's just a virus. So to me, it's a study in survival. But WD may not be everyone else's cup of tea. That's okay. As I said... I'm quite unique. And very loved in spite of it. :)
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
high flyin
What do you do on a 13 hour overnight plane flight when you can't sleep. Using the reading light seems rude. All around me are people trying to snooze. Uh oh....hot flash just hit! Hindsight insight....long-sleeved sweater, pants and calf boots were not a smart choice! Not with economy class seats. Earlier, I had closed off the overhead AC after repeated coughing by several nearby passengers had filled the air in our cabin. No recycled germs blowing in my face, thank you! The hot flash remained in full swing. My set has me trapped. There is barely room to wiggle, much less to lean forward in order to see or get to my toes. Thankfully, I'd pushed the boots off using my feet with an earlier hot flash leaving me with just my fleece socks. Green with white polka dots. My free spirit side loved them...even though they didn't match my comfortably classy, yet warm, black and white ensemble. They'd been hidden snugly inside my boots until liberated by the first hot flash assault. And I didn't mind my polka dot toes peeking out when I took to the aisle to find the restroom. But now, they were the next to go in my strip poker dance between high-altitude cabin temperatures and estrogen loss! In the two weeks since we arrived in Japan, no laundering had been done. My long johns and other underthings were becoming pretty ragged. So this morning, I wadded up sports bra and long johns and crammed them into my already overstuffed suitcase. I decided I would embrace the 1960's as I dressed to meet the airport shuttle. So, as I feverishly sought a solution to ease this feeling of being placed inside an oven, I recognized quickly that my sweater was on to stay. Pants too. My solution was twofold. Roll up the pants and get out of the socks. Ahhhhh! Using my toes on the opposite foot, I managed to pull off one sock. Then the next. I sighed, smiled and slumped back into the two inches of wiggle room seat 24B afforded me. Not even 60 seconds later do I think.... Hmmm. Now it's getting chilly. Bummer! Getting my socks back on my feet would entail bending forward to reach my toes. That isn't going to happen. it's hard enough to do that when I'm not crammed into american airline's version of economical torture, Okay then, what should I do? I quickly take stock of my options. My pant legs are still to my ankles and the airlines blanket on my lap can't reach my chilled toes. But I have my boots! Their sweater- lined tops and room openings should make it a breeze to slide sock-less feet inside! But how do I get to my boots! Reclining back and stretching out my 5'8 frame had pushed my discarded boots veeeerrrry far under the seat ahead of mine. Stretching out and then maneuvering down, I slid my feet under as far as I could hoping I'm not crating bumps and jostles to the man asleep in the seat. Using my feet In nail clippers-fashion, I work to capture the elusive tops of each boot. More difficult than I thought it'd be! Several vain attempts ensued but finally, I managed to drag both boots to where I wanted them! Sliding ny toes in was easy. It was navigating the curve at the ankle that was the hard part.
Silently I bemoan my selfish streak. The chair ahead of mine is reclined all the way back. Which effectively prevents any bending at the hips on my part. My toes are warm but my ankles firmly wish to join in.
So sad! The biblical adage, " You reap what you sow" plopped itself firmly before me. Sighing, I fought back the urge to let irritation erupt. My seat is also in the fully reclined position. I had quite happily placed it so. Right after the guy in front of me had reclined his seat ....effectively cutting my airspace in half. I did give a brief thought to how my actions were going to affect the person behind my seat....albeit ...super briefly! There was no "Do unto others..." in my heart. So I couldn't be mad at the guy ahead of me for adding to the the strait jacket feel of economy class seating. The opening to the second boot kept escaping my searching toes. Ah ha! Got it! Now...toes were warm and covered by 2 inches of sweater topped boot. Ankles still cold. Cannot bend forward. Seat belt light is on. Hmmmmm. Slowly I snake my boot -ensconced toes toward the aisle. A few more inches toward my right outstretched arm and...wallah! I pulled the right boot on. The left foot required a release of the seat belt but that didn't bother my scoff-law side. Not when warmth and comfort were only inches away and no harm, no foul was an obvious cohort to my airline recklessness.
Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I think on what to do now? What time is it? I can't get the English to come on the flight path screen but theJapanese writing seems to say there's another 3 hours left for this flight. The red animated plane hovers near San Francisco. We're headed to Fort Worth, TX to make our connection to Savannah from there.
Deciding the best thing is to try to catch more shut eye before we land and before another hot flash hits, I pull my eyeshield down over my eyes and smile as I lean back into a fully reclined ;) position. If I see seat-behind-me- guy trying to get his shoes on though...I am so un-reclining my seat!
Monday, March 9, 2015
onward and upward...
Feelin good. hungry. headed home from Japan. Lots learned. Lots experienced. Lots to do in life. Grateful. Had to write a haiku our last night here.
Home doesn't mean here.
Cause it can be anywhere
Jesus, and Love...are
Hahaha...I like it ;)
Sunday, March 8, 2015
handpuppets and anniversaries
Here I am...in Japan. Hiroshima to be exact. Its things like this.....the Holocaust Museum, pics of Aushwitz, or the S.S.Arizona Memorial that makes me view my loss from outside my shoes. which isn't to say that it puts "my" loss in "perspective". Because putting something "into perspective " means you are "comparing" your loss and thus determining ...... if the depth of grief I am experiencing "fits". Since now there is a range for grief. Which is actually totally ridiculous! And silly really.
But, for many of the past 18 months since Mike died, I've been guilty of thinking this very thing. Because you read or hear of so many other tradgedies that are "so much worse". I think that's how I fell into this idea that I should keep my grief " in perspective ".
I felt it made sense that those who lost several family members, husband and/ or multiple kids...all at the same time...had the greater loss and, it logically follows that their pain they felt must be exponentially greater than mine.
The problem is that... if that were so.... they should all be dead. Because their grief should've killed them. Since their grief must be so much more wrenchingly and exponentially greater.....well I just don't know how they are still breathing. Honestly. It should kill you. So this isn't said to imply that if these people didn't die from grief that I am belittling their loss! Nor do I mean to magnify mine. I just can't imagine how a person physically survives and doesnt die from sheer heartbreak if it was much beyond what I've felt. But there there must be worse pain. Because there is an actual medical condition that mimics a heart attack, nicknamed broken heart syndrome, which is documented in medical journals. I think a coma would be preferable. So.... knowing about broken heart syndrome just reinforces a belief that pain from loss/ grief... is on a continuum. A range exists. So I would try to put mine into this perspective. I would read of the tradgedies besetting others and would view my allotment of "deserved" grief based on what there's must be. Grief was put on a scale. And there were times when, reading about a tradgedy that was far worse than what I was going through, it actually did make me feel better. The old "it could be worse" adage really can comfort! But I no longer put emotional grief and its consequent pain on a continuum. Physical pain. can be put on a continuum. But emotional pain....No. It varies. But it is not linear. And thinking that it was...made my loss of Mike seem trivial at times. But it was and never will be trivial to me.
Okay. So a lot of deep meandering going on this morning! But...on a positive note. My grief is healing. It's a much much "quieter pain". It's like this shower of sadness that gently washes over me when something triggers my realization tht Mike remains...gone. So much better and easier to endure than the earlier, actual physical sensations that my body was being ripped apart.
But then I go to a place like I did yesterday! To the Hiroshima peace memorial. And it puts me right back at war with myself. Am I wrong? Is there a perspective..a continuum that I am somehow not fitting into correctly? And, if true, Why? I have complete faith that Mike is in heaven. I can't wait to see him again. It will be so great. And I know that Jesus is smiling and holding me as I go thru this new life chapter. And I have a trust that God has something for me in this chapter that needed me to be where I am now...without Mike. Not sure what it is...but He'll show me. So....am I, in spite of all that, having a harder time "dealing" with my loss than Ishould be?
Because, as I go through the Hiroshima Museum, And see the photographs and read the placards , I start to hear whispers such as, "I should be done by now". Am I not "entitled" to the pain I still feel? I realize that my loss is nothing compared to theirs. So the whispers grow louder... "That's right. Look at them!"
I'm familiar with the whispers. They came often during the first few months after Mikes death. When I read yahoo posts of Mothers who'd lost two or more children in a car wreck ...or a bus tragedy. Or headlines would blare that a parent had killed all their kids leaving their broken-hearted mate alone to survive.
I believe the whispers come from Satan and his little minions. It would be nice if, as a Christian, I was immune to hearing their whispers but we aren't. If anything, were the sought-after target! ( Loved "The Screwtape letters" by C.S. Lewis :). People may think whispers like these...but rarely voice them if they do! Satan has no such diplomacy.
Having my faith and walk with Jesus rocked to its very core initially after Mike died was so tough. But getting my relationship with Him restored again has been immeasurably comforting and I am so grateful for faith that comes from Him, and not from my eyes, ears, or head. But from inside...in my spirit He has poured in Himself. And I am saddened for those who hear the duplicitous whispers of Satans minions and don't recognize their true source.
But, I must get back to where I am "now". When whispers that my grief isn't worthy of the extreme pain it has generated ...."because I am to... look at the "thems"....start up, I forcefully squelch them. Vigorously! ( But it sometimes still may require multiple squelchings!) ;).
I AM entitled. I have not exceeded my "pain and hurt quota". I am not limited on what this is like for me because I "only" lost my husband. And... there's another side I need to guard against! Recognizing that my pain is not greater because I was married 25 years and best friends with Mike for 29 years. Because my imperfectness DOES want to diminish the grief of those who've lost a mate when it's been a marriage of "only" .. say ... 5 years. or 10 years. or 20 years.! Even as I type this, I realize I must really be awful. Here I am, irritated by those well-intentioned (and totally useless ) well-wishers who are probably nodding their heads right now. Silently smug that "they knew grief can't be compared" and " could've told me that!". Because they probably did! Numerous utterances that "Everyone's grief is their own" and "everyone goes through grief differently" have been said to me, usually accompanied by sympathetic squeezes of my hand. And they mean well and I am appreciative of their attempts to comfort.
And, since I am pretty much the protoype for imperfect Christian- walking,,,, those comments left me wondering silently if I'm on always living on an island by myself. Is no one else out there thinking my thoughts like... "some" people have it "worse than me" or that " my grief should ease much quicker than the grief experienced by those who've lost more than...."just" their husband". and here is this memory now sidesteppedingbinto my consciousnesses...
The absolute worst comment given to me a couple months after Mike passed away was that the time needed to "get over a loss" is different for everyone.
Bad! Uh uh! Major ouches! Even before Mike, with my own Dad's death...and the miscarriage...I learned then you never 'get 'over' it. Horrible, horrible phrase!! Should be struck from the English language! But I will and AM... getting 'past' it.
And now my thoughts make their tangential way back to the Peace Memorial Museum I saw just yesterday. And to the Holocaust Museum I saw in DC. And the yahoo posts and newspaper clippings. Yes. Much like Hiroshima, Hawaii, and even Aushwitz survivors have moved past their horrors and loss. But never "over" it. I don't think you are ever "over" or done" with grief. I have pains that shoots abruptly and raggedly thru my chest like they did today during one of the frequent, yet always unexpectedly triggerred "Where are you, Mike!?" "Why aren't you here!?"-moments.
Yep, these are the sugary thoughts crowding in this morning...waking me and then preventing me from going back to sleep. Which is why I finally grabbed my IPAD and started this post.
It's only 5 AM. Amie is asleep in the rock hard Japanese hotel bed that is next to mine. I'm sitting propped up by four equally bulletproof pillows typing my thoughts. There's a huge reason why insomnia has gripped me. And why the Peace Memorial visit yesterday has had such an impact on this particular nights slumber though...
Today is March 4th. 26 years ago today, I walked down an aisle wreathed with hearts and ribbons toward my best friend of the past 4 years. hearts and hearses. I'm only now noting how similar is the spelling between those two words!
Bombs, carnage, and death pictures probably weren't the best thing to be inundated with the day before. But it is what it is. And it's triggered insomnia and a slew of thoughts. Before starting this post, I used my cellphone flashlight to make my way through the teeny room that passes well for a hotel room (if you're the petite Japanese female) to get to the IPAD. My gangly 5'8 non-petite, american frame threw fierce, huge shadows on the wall and, I couldn't help myself. I did a few
shadow puppets. And immediately the thoughts came. ."Mike would laugh so be laughing at me!"or the next thought hits me that..."Mike might've joined me (with a bit of cajoling)".
These "would've" thoughts are what devastates. Much like the Black Rain that followed the initial blast at Hiroshima. The rain carried with it seeds of illnesses that brought pain and misery to its victims weeks, years and even decades later. that is why time doesn't bring immediate healing to sorrow. Because Time also carries with it all the "Mike would've's ". The triggers for those are numerous and inescapable.
Tennessee, Boston, New York, California, Charleston, SC, Banner Elk, NC, Barcelona, Belgium, Jamaica, Grand Cayman, Cozumel....and now, Japan. That is a lot of travel in only 18 months. Yet there has been no escaping the loneliness. Even though one or the other, or both, of my girls have been with me. I can stand on the bow of a ship, in a crammed fish market, a foreign department store, or stand in a queue waiting to board a plane...and feel utterly alone.
But, for many of the past 18 months since Mike died, I've been guilty of thinking this very thing. Because you read or hear of so many other tradgedies that are "so much worse". I think that's how I fell into this idea that I should keep my grief " in perspective ".
I felt it made sense that those who lost several family members, husband and/ or multiple kids...all at the same time...had the greater loss and, it logically follows that their pain they felt must be exponentially greater than mine.
The problem is that... if that were so.... they should all be dead. Because their grief should've killed them. Since their grief must be so much more wrenchingly and exponentially greater.....well I just don't know how they are still breathing. Honestly. It should kill you. So this isn't said to imply that if these people didn't die from grief that I am belittling their loss! Nor do I mean to magnify mine. I just can't imagine how a person physically survives and doesnt die from sheer heartbreak if it was much beyond what I've felt. But there there must be worse pain. Because there is an actual medical condition that mimics a heart attack, nicknamed broken heart syndrome, which is documented in medical journals. I think a coma would be preferable. So.... knowing about broken heart syndrome just reinforces a belief that pain from loss/ grief... is on a continuum. A range exists. So I would try to put mine into this perspective. I would read of the tradgedies besetting others and would view my allotment of "deserved" grief based on what there's must be. Grief was put on a scale. And there were times when, reading about a tradgedy that was far worse than what I was going through, it actually did make me feel better. The old "it could be worse" adage really can comfort! But I no longer put emotional grief and its consequent pain on a continuum. Physical pain. can be put on a continuum. But emotional pain....No. It varies. But it is not linear. And thinking that it was...made my loss of Mike seem trivial at times. But it was and never will be trivial to me.
Okay. So a lot of deep meandering going on this morning! But...on a positive note. My grief is healing. It's a much much "quieter pain". It's like this shower of sadness that gently washes over me when something triggers my realization tht Mike remains...gone. So much better and easier to endure than the earlier, actual physical sensations that my body was being ripped apart.
But then I go to a place like I did yesterday! To the Hiroshima peace memorial. And it puts me right back at war with myself. Am I wrong? Is there a perspective..a continuum that I am somehow not fitting into correctly? And, if true, Why? I have complete faith that Mike is in heaven. I can't wait to see him again. It will be so great. And I know that Jesus is smiling and holding me as I go thru this new life chapter. And I have a trust that God has something for me in this chapter that needed me to be where I am now...without Mike. Not sure what it is...but He'll show me. So....am I, in spite of all that, having a harder time "dealing" with my loss than Ishould be?
Because, as I go through the Hiroshima Museum, And see the photographs and read the placards , I start to hear whispers such as, "I should be done by now". Am I not "entitled" to the pain I still feel? I realize that my loss is nothing compared to theirs. So the whispers grow louder... "That's right. Look at them!"
I'm familiar with the whispers. They came often during the first few months after Mikes death. When I read yahoo posts of Mothers who'd lost two or more children in a car wreck ...or a bus tragedy. Or headlines would blare that a parent had killed all their kids leaving their broken-hearted mate alone to survive.
I believe the whispers come from Satan and his little minions. It would be nice if, as a Christian, I was immune to hearing their whispers but we aren't. If anything, were the sought-after target! ( Loved "The Screwtape letters" by C.S. Lewis :). People may think whispers like these...but rarely voice them if they do! Satan has no such diplomacy.
Having my faith and walk with Jesus rocked to its very core initially after Mike died was so tough. But getting my relationship with Him restored again has been immeasurably comforting and I am so grateful for faith that comes from Him, and not from my eyes, ears, or head. But from inside...in my spirit He has poured in Himself. And I am saddened for those who hear the duplicitous whispers of Satans minions and don't recognize their true source.
But, I must get back to where I am "now". When whispers that my grief isn't worthy of the extreme pain it has generated ...."because I am to... look at the "thems"....start up, I forcefully squelch them. Vigorously! ( But it sometimes still may require multiple squelchings!) ;).
I AM entitled. I have not exceeded my "pain and hurt quota". I am not limited on what this is like for me because I "only" lost my husband. And... there's another side I need to guard against! Recognizing that my pain is not greater because I was married 25 years and best friends with Mike for 29 years. Because my imperfectness DOES want to diminish the grief of those who've lost a mate when it's been a marriage of "only" .. say ... 5 years. or 10 years. or 20 years.! Even as I type this, I realize I must really be awful. Here I am, irritated by those well-intentioned (and totally useless ) well-wishers who are probably nodding their heads right now. Silently smug that "they knew grief can't be compared" and " could've told me that!". Because they probably did! Numerous utterances that "Everyone's grief is their own" and "everyone goes through grief differently" have been said to me, usually accompanied by sympathetic squeezes of my hand. And they mean well and I am appreciative of their attempts to comfort.
And, since I am pretty much the protoype for imperfect Christian- walking,,,, those comments left me wondering silently if I'm on always living on an island by myself. Is no one else out there thinking my thoughts like... "some" people have it "worse than me" or that " my grief should ease much quicker than the grief experienced by those who've lost more than...."just" their husband". and here is this memory now sidesteppedingbinto my consciousnesses...
The absolute worst comment given to me a couple months after Mike passed away was that the time needed to "get over a loss" is different for everyone.
Bad! Uh uh! Major ouches! Even before Mike, with my own Dad's death...and the miscarriage...I learned then you never 'get 'over' it. Horrible, horrible phrase!! Should be struck from the English language! But I will and AM... getting 'past' it.
And now my thoughts make their tangential way back to the Peace Memorial Museum I saw just yesterday. And to the Holocaust Museum I saw in DC. And the yahoo posts and newspaper clippings. Yes. Much like Hiroshima, Hawaii, and even Aushwitz survivors have moved past their horrors and loss. But never "over" it. I don't think you are ever "over" or done" with grief. I have pains that shoots abruptly and raggedly thru my chest like they did today during one of the frequent, yet always unexpectedly triggerred "Where are you, Mike!?" "Why aren't you here!?"-moments.
Yep, these are the sugary thoughts crowding in this morning...waking me and then preventing me from going back to sleep. Which is why I finally grabbed my IPAD and started this post.
It's only 5 AM. Amie is asleep in the rock hard Japanese hotel bed that is next to mine. I'm sitting propped up by four equally bulletproof pillows typing my thoughts. There's a huge reason why insomnia has gripped me. And why the Peace Memorial visit yesterday has had such an impact on this particular nights slumber though...
Today is March 4th. 26 years ago today, I walked down an aisle wreathed with hearts and ribbons toward my best friend of the past 4 years. hearts and hearses. I'm only now noting how similar is the spelling between those two words!
Bombs, carnage, and death pictures probably weren't the best thing to be inundated with the day before. But it is what it is. And it's triggered insomnia and a slew of thoughts. Before starting this post, I used my cellphone flashlight to make my way through the teeny room that passes well for a hotel room (if you're the petite Japanese female) to get to the IPAD. My gangly 5'8 non-petite, american frame threw fierce, huge shadows on the wall and, I couldn't help myself. I did a few
shadow puppets. And immediately the thoughts came. ."Mike would laugh so be laughing at me!"or the next thought hits me that..."Mike might've joined me (with a bit of cajoling)".
These "would've" thoughts are what devastates. Much like the Black Rain that followed the initial blast at Hiroshima. The rain carried with it seeds of illnesses that brought pain and misery to its victims weeks, years and even decades later. that is why time doesn't bring immediate healing to sorrow. Because Time also carries with it all the "Mike would've's ". The triggers for those are numerous and inescapable.
Tennessee, Boston, New York, California, Charleston, SC, Banner Elk, NC, Barcelona, Belgium, Jamaica, Grand Cayman, Cozumel....and now, Japan. That is a lot of travel in only 18 months. Yet there has been no escaping the loneliness. Even though one or the other, or both, of my girls have been with me. I can stand on the bow of a ship, in a crammed fish market, a foreign department store, or stand in a queue waiting to board a plane...and feel utterly alone.
Sites, smells, and sounds that are familiar trigger lightening bolts of pain and those that are new bring a wrenching to my heart because the thought is there before you can stop it from forming! You can't hide or outrun it! It just shoots into your consciousness...how "Mike wouldve" reacted, what "Mike would've" thought ...of this...or of that.
The missing of Mikes humor and spirit and person....his "him-ness". is tough. But I also miss his abilities. His strength. Mike was the strongest man I'd ever known. Physically...he was pure muscle and biceps. Which made me feel super feminine which was wonderful. But there was also a practical application of his strength that is sorely missed as I struggle with luggage or grocery bags and wrestle overflowing trash cans to the curb on trash day. This past week, I've coveted the tubs and
bidets in our japanese accommodations! I'm SO putting that deep tub and that Toto Washlet in my home! But, Mike "wouldve installed" it with ease. As I prowled around the cramped spaces to examine what was needed...I realized...plumbing and an outlet. No problem IF Mike was still here. Recognizing I may need to hire both a plumber and an electrician to have this put in... dampens my enthusiasm. But it's the Mike "could've done it" in a heartbeat knowledge that totally drowns my excitement leaving me feeling wilted and broken...again.
So now I am catching back up ( had to interrupt my post to actually go on this Japan itinerary of ours! ). Iit's now 7:00 pm on my anniversary. today for our anniversary, I' made shadow puppets that don't last, lost a hotel key that cost me $85.00 before the hotel would allow me leave...to leave (LOL) and am now enroute to another location in Japan where Amie and I will bicycle through rice paddies. And hoping that this day will reflect promise and hope as I pedal along. Jesus has been so good to me. Hallelujahs have been pretty broken but still offered up. And God has Ben lovingly smiling at me as He takes my loving as He lifts my bruised and battered hallelujahs off of my shoulders and into His lap. I hear The heart whispers from the Holy Spirit that all will be well. Hiroshima is quite the testament that even devastation such as that wrought by Mushroom Clouds and Black Rain passes. Walking along the streets of Hiroshima, you see trees and flowers and people...and laughter and smiles and joy.
So now I am catching back up ( had to interrupt my post to actually go on this Japan itinerary of ours! ). Iit's now 7:00 pm on my anniversary. today for our anniversary, I' made shadow puppets that don't last, lost a hotel key that cost me $85.00 before the hotel would allow me leave...to leave (LOL) and am now enroute to another location in Japan where Amie and I will bicycle through rice paddies. And hoping that this day will reflect promise and hope as I pedal along. Jesus has been so good to me. Hallelujahs have been pretty broken but still offered up. And God has Ben lovingly smiling at me as He takes my loving as He lifts my bruised and battered hallelujahs off of my shoulders and into His lap. I hear The heart whispers from the Holy Spirit that all will be well. Hiroshima is quite the testament that even devastation such as that wrought by Mushroom Clouds and Black Rain passes. Walking along the streets of Hiroshima, you see trees and flowers and people...and laughter and smiles and joy.
Many have lost more than just their husband.
For a long time, knowing there were others in this world who've lost more than "just" their soulmate...(maybe a disaster such as Hiroshima took the lives of numerous family and friends! )... that I really shouldn't have such sorrow in missing Mike. That My loss wasn't "worthy". it wasnt "enough" of a loss.
But, as the months passed, it's easier as I've gone along this journey to recognize that it is okay that Ive been crushed by losing Mike. No, I didn't lose half my family like those who survived Hiroshima. Or who lost several children in a tragic auto accident etc. Their losses do dwarf mine. But that doesn't mean my pain should be limited or dwarfed to somehow equal out on the "pain pendulum" that I don't exceed the "allotted amount" for loss of only your spouse. and so many tragedies of our timetoo entitled to feel crushed. my loss. that my pain is my pain. Now there is a place that (cross fingers) won't leave me drowning in old memories or in "Mike would've's.".
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