Writing Again--MINDFULNESS

Aside from the three writing projects I have been working on (my book of short stories, my autobiography, and my cancer memoir), I have even more writing going on. This past Monday, I joined a monthly writing class for people with metastatic breast cancer. After only one class, I'm already excited to be part of this group. I want to share a few things I wrote.

Our theme for July was mindfulness. Our first prompt was I WANT......

I want to find a purpose for the rest of my life. I don't want to spend the time I have left just being "a sick person." I want to continue to feel useful and productive. I want to leave a legacy of love for my family.

Our facilitator read the poem, "Mindful," by Mary Oliver.

Mindful 

Every day 

I see or hear 

something 

that more or less 

kills me with delight, 

that leaves me 

like a needle 

in the haystack

of light,.

 It was what I was born for - 

to look, to listen, 

to lose myself 

inside this soft world - 

to instruct myself 

over and over 

in joy, 

and acclamation. 

Nor am I talking 

about the exceptional

the fearful, the dreadful, 

the very extravagant - 

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab, 

the daily presentations. 

Oh, good scholar, 

I say to myself, 

how can you help 

but grow wise 

with such teachings as these - 

the untrimmable light 

of the world, 

the ocean's shine, 

the prayers that are made 

out of grass?

-Mary Oliver

Our second prompt was "Something I have learned recently"

Recently I've learned that every minute of the day doesn't have to be scheduled. Some days the best thing I can do for myself is jut to relax--read a book, take a walk, take a nap, or just sit with my thoughts. I have discovered that constantly scheduling things is a defense mechanism for me. If I am busy, I don't have to deal with my thoughts or emotions. I need to give myself time to grieve over the parts of my life that are changing, and to find a way to still be ME through all of it.

We then listened to another poem: "The Guest House," by Rumi.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

-Rumi

Our final prompt for the night was to write a letter to whatever emotion has been visiting us recently.

Dear Anger,

Thank you for making me feel again. However, you are not a healthy emotion for me at this time, in this situation. Although you have shown me things that need to be addressed, I can't allow you to stick around long-term. It's time to say goodbye.

                                                                        Me

CURRENTLY

CURRENTLY

Reading:  I'd Rather Be Dead Than Deaf by E. Adrienne Wilson

Doing: Blogging 

Watching: Supernatural

Thinking About:  What to eat for a snack, things that are making me sad.

Random Thoughts Today

It's been almost six months without him, but sometimes it still hurts like it was yesterday. They say time heals all wounds, but time seems to stand still for me since I lost him. The ache of missing him lingers, a constant companion in this journey of grief.

I am often surrounded by people, in the bustling chaos of everyday life. Family and friends do their best to comfort me, to fill the emptiness of a life without him. Yet, there comes a time when everyone goes their own way, and I am faced with the solitude and isolation of the house that used to be a home. And sometimes, even when I'm surrounded by people, I remember what it was like when he was there, too, and it feels like a huge part of me is missing.

People try to understand, but how can they grasp the depth of my loss when their lives continue as normal? Their words of sympathy, while kind, often fall short. They don't understand the depth of my loss, and I would never wish it on any of them.

,

Reminders of him are everywhere, every day. Places we went together,our daily routine, songs we loved, television shows and movies that were mutual favorites--they all remind me of the life that used to be. I've tried creating new routines, going to new places, watching new things--but then I wish he were here for me to tell him about those things.

I miss his presence, his voice, his touch. I miss the way he could understand me better than anyone--sometimes even more than I understood myself, the way he made me feel whole, the way he encouraged me and built me up. The loneliness is profound, a constant undercurrent to every moment of my day.

People tell me to move on, to find new reasons to smile. They don’t understand that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. How can I forget someone who was such an integral part of my existence? My love for him doesn’t diminish with his absence; it grows stronger, intertwined with my grief.

So, here I am, alone in a crowd, missing him with every fiber of my being. I hold on to the memories, even though they bring tears. I hold on to the hope that, in some way, he is still with me, watching over me. And I remind myself that it's okay to feel this way, to miss him fiercely, to be alone in my grief.

Grieving is not a journey with a clear end. It's a path I must walk, one day at a time. And though I may be alone in a crowd, I carry him with me, in my heart, forever.

Currently: A New Weekly Post

CURRENTLY

Reading: Argylle by Elly Conway

Doing: Blogging,taking meds

Watching: One Love (Bob Marley movie)

Thinking About: Going to bed early

Top Ten List: Favorite Candies

Top Ten  Favorite Candies

1) M&Ms

2) Sno-Caps

3) Cowtales

4) Zero bar

5) Candy corn

6) Milky Way

7) Three Musketeers

8) PEEPS

9) Andes Mints

10) Hershey Kisses

Hurt Feelings and Realizing the Truth

 I guess I've always known that I was never going to be the favorite person of a certain "family member," but I'm done taking all the crap and smiling as though nothing bothers me. I kept everything I was feeling to myself to try to keep the peace, but the time for that is over. Now it's time to let it all out, say what I have to say and be done with the entire situation once and for all.

This person likes to pretend to be someone they aren't, and to act like they had such a great relationship with their "family." If that were true, I would think that I would have seen this person more than 4 times in 20 years (not counting the times WE made the effort and went to THEIR house for a visit--most of which were because I was trying to encourage the "family" relationship because family was always important to me, and always will be). 

Granted, I was not a biological member of the family, but there were times when I was treated like I wasn't family at all. When this person got married, one of her bridesmaids came to get me, along with my youngest daughter and her husband, because the "family" pictures were being taken, and she "knew" this person would want us to be in them. Never happened.....my place was taken by the mother of  this person's best friend, who is referred to as "Mom." That was years ago, but it still cuts every time I see the wedding pictures.

This person's true feelings toward their "family" in Ohio really became evident in December of last year, when my husband passed away. Their first reaction was to post a video to all their followers about how their parents were together again.  REALLY? They hadn't spoken in over 20 years, but they were suddenly together again?  And you honestly didn't think how that would make me--the woman who had been with him for the last 20 years, through good times and bad--feel in that moment? The same day I lost my husband, you want to talk about him being reunited with your mother? 

Then this person got upset because I didn't include their older biological half-brother in the obituary. Mind you, he was adopted by his mother's new husband at a young age, and my husband was never part of his life after that. My husband rarely ever spoke about him and had no contact with him in the years I knew him. He once told me in so many words that he didn't consider him a son, and I took that into account when writing the obituary.

Next, they messaged me about sending out "flower invites" for the funeral. What those were was never explained to me, and I had never heard of them before, so I just ignored the message. All I could think of was "inviting" people to send flowers to the service, and it made me think it was something they wanted to do for all their social media followers, to have THEM send flowers. (If anyone actually knows what a flower invite is, please comment below and enlighten me!!)

Last but not least, they wanted to have my husband's military flag presented to them. As the surviving spouse, that was MY privilege to receive. And if he hadn't been married, this person would still not have been the recipient. It would have gone to my stepson as the oldest surviving male relative---and in time, it will STILL go to him, as I will make sure of it.

So anyway, when I told this person that I was going to keep the flag, they went out and bought a flag, brought it to the service, and gave it to the military personnel to fold and present to them when they presented mine. Talk about wanting to make something about them!!

Then, when they got back home, they made another video post for all their followers, talking about how Dad's wife "who is not my biological mom," wanted the flag for herself, even though this person thought they deserved it more. They added that I had said I would someday give it to them (which I NEVER said and will NEVER do!), but that wasn't good enough for them, which was why they got their own flag. Some of the comments from their followers were about how wrong I was to keep the flag and how it should have gone to them...obviously, those people don't have a clue about military protocol. 

When I learned that this person's son was expecting a daughter later this year, and this person was asking for name suggestions, I mentioned that since their first grandchild had this person's mother's name as one of his middle names, the little girl could have some variation of my husband's first or middle name as a middle name, such as Barrie or Rikki. Found out today that the little girl's name is going to be Tru Alani, which basically means she is named after the person in question. How nice for them, but way to ignore my husband entirely. Just proves once again which parent always was and always will be more important to this person.

So, it's time to do what my husband tried to do for years but I wouldn't let happen. It's time to wash my hands, say I've done all I can, and let them be the one to reach out to me if they want to have any sort of relationship. I'm through being family when it's convenient and the wicked witch when it's not. Goodbye and good luck!!

What I Worry About

WHAT I'M WORRIED ABOUT THESE DAYS

I have several things that are weighing on my heart and mind these days, most of which are centered around my health issues and their aftermath.

1) I worry that I will wind up dying alone. I love my kids, and I'm glad they have lives of their own that keep them so busy. But when I spent three days in the hospital at Easter, and none of them came to visit me, and only one of them even talked to me, I felt like the stereotypical old lady who never has anyone visit her when she's in the hospital. 

2) I worry that my kids will drift apart after I'm gone. They are nowhere near as close as they used to be, and about the only time they see each other these days is for organized family events, usually done for my benefit. I know how easy it is for siblings to not spend as much time together when their parents are gone, and I don't want that to happen to my kids and grandkids.

That's really all I can put into words today, but there are nagging little things that bother me every single day.