Feeling a Bit Out of Sorts

I awoke this morning feeling sad and not quite right.  I didn't feel depressed, and I don't feel that way now, but I felt right on the brink of depressed, that time when you feel grateful enough to have joy in your heart but are also in a place of deep contemplation and a little bit of fear (okay, maybe more than a little bit of fear).  Death has been so close lately, and it's really been getting to me. 


Years ago, after my Dad died suddenly, I developed a deep seated fear of losing people.  If my brother forgot to call me after he drove home from my house at night, I'd panic that he'd been in a terrible accident.  If a boyfriend came home late (especially if he'd been traveling on his motorcycle) I'd fly into a panic.  If I passed an accident on the highway, a pit of ice would form into my gut and refuse to melt until I'd passed the scene and ascertained that no one I knew was involved.  I was never able to relax completely into the wonderful moments of life because I lived in constant fear that "the other shoe" would drop, once again destroying my world as I knew it.  Some version of this fear has followed me for many years, only subsiding over the past few, as I've dealt with my father's passing through meditation and prayer and grown deeper into the spiritual path of my choosing.  Over these past few days, however, the fear has crept back into my heart, and since quieting it has proven fruitless I'm searching for ways to deal with it before it spirals out of control again.

Lots of things have happened recently to reignite the flames of this old post traumatic stress bonfire.  A friend was in a bad motorcycle accident that mirrored my father's accident in so many ways that it's scary.  He is still in a coma, having lived with his injuries longer than my own Dad did, and the outcome is still uncertain.  I keep hoping and praying that he'll wake up and be, at the very least, mostly able to recover fully (though fully recovering would certainly be the very best outcome, of course).  I don't want to watch his family go through losing him the way we lost our Dad; to have gone through this situation and then watch another family go through almost the exact same thing is surreal, on some level.   Another man who I've known for quite some time recently passed away after a long illness, and a friend who has been through many ups and downs of life with me was diagnosed with cancer not long ago.  He is fighting valiantly, but I feel so afraid for him.  He's around my husband's age, still a young guy, and the prognosis is hopeful but things could go either way for him.  Then, just today, I found out that an uncle of mine is ill.  I'm still not sure what's going on with him-my cousin wrote a brief post on Facebook- but I have the distinct feeling it isn't good.  As I tend to be very empathic when it comes to my family, one of the reasons for my feelings of intense sadness this morning might be linked to this situation.  

Because I live a spiritual as well as a physical life, I believe that something exists beyond our earthly existence.  I'm not one hundred percent sure of this, or of what actually happens, but I do believe our spirits continue onward, crossing the veil of death and possibly going through the process of reincarnation for a time.  Different religions have different ideas about this, and I've been introduced to many of these ideas, and they do provide me with some modicum of comfort when someone dies or I begin to contemplate my own demise.  This does little to assuage the sadness I feel over losing someone I love, however. The part of me who, at times, doubts the existence of a supreme creator or just plain loves someone and misses him or her terribly experiences a great torment of the soul when someone I care about passes over.  Sometimes, it feels as though death is looming over us all, just waiting for that perfect moment to snatch us up and devastate everyone around us.

I don't mean to be morbid or depressing tonight.  I'm spilling ideas onto the computer screen, trying to sort out my own jumbled thoughts, hoping that tomorrow when I wake up I'll feel more positive and sunny.  Right here, in this moment though, I feel like a black cloud is hanging over the earth and I'm trying to dodge it's ominous shadow with everyone I love tucked in close, attempting to accomplish the same task.     

New Link on My Page

To the right of my posts, I've placed a link to a suicide prevention page.  My hope is that anyone visiting my blog who is having thoughts of suicide or knows someone who is or might be, will visit the site.  I've wandered through it and it looks very helpful, and as this is a subject close to my heart I decided to place the banner on my page. 

Several years ago, when I was still in college, I received a horrifying telephone call from someone in my family (I can't remember who as I was so traumatized afterward that I remember very little about that night other than my friend's room mate offering me a shot of Jack Daniels in sympathy).  I was visiting with my boyfriend at the time, and ill prepared for the message that my beloved Uncle had killed himself by carbon monoxide poisoning in his vehicle.  Unbeknownst to me, he'd made attempts in the past, apparently plagued by the same wretched depression that has chased down many members of my mother's side of the family.  My Uncle was father to three children, all of them young, two of them very young, and his death was devastating to all of us.  To this day, I think of him often. As an adult, I find myself relating very much to the way he used to view life and wish I could pick up the phone to talk with him, and to hear his wry humor again. 

A few years after this incident, the manager at the Boston print shop where I worked hanged himself.  He was a sensitive soul who, coincidentally, had the same first name as the Uncle I mentioned above.  No one expected this-my friend had always been possessed of a sarcastic wit and a biting sense of humor, and these things seemed to help guide him through the more difficult aspects of life.  I have a few ideas with respect to what pushed him over the edge, but they're mere speculation and I won't post those thoughts here.  I suppose that, all of these years later, the reason for his suicide doesn't much matter.  What does matter is that the world lost a good person, someone who helped people who needed money by letting them do small jobs at the shop, provided people with the opportunity to learn as much as they were willing to try, was a mean color matching whiz (very important in the screen printing industry), a fierce pool player, and a true friend once he let you beyond the sometimes tough veneer.  I miss him. Thinking about him, and writing this paragraph, I miss him all the more.

Just before the birth of our daughter, a very special and close friend ended his life by suicide.  This is still a difficult memory for me.  Our baby shower took place at the home he shared with his wife, a home where I'd also been guest at many holiday dinners, I'd attended his beautiful marriage on a South Florida beach a few years before, and I knew him to be kind, funny, and highly intelligent.  He is missed horribly by so many people, not the least of which is his wife, who was devasted by his passing.  I still have a book he lent to me a few years back; he'd told me to keep it until I'd had the chance to read the whole thing.  Every time I glance at the cover or turn the pages, I remember him and wish he could've stayed with us awhile longer.  

About a year ago, our neighbor across the street died from suicide by firearm.  My husband had become fairly close to him, and he was well known and respected in the horse racing community. This past month we planted a lemon tree in his honor because, disturbed greatly by his death, I meditated quite a bit and kept receiving the message that a lemon tree should be planted.  After conducting some research, I learned that lemon trees are symbolic of friendship, clearing away negativity, faithfulness, and the human heart.  Also, I discovered that in Judaic tradition it is believed that planting a tree in honor of someone who has passed helps to elevate that person's soul toward God.  I have felt healed of the horror of his death after planting the tree (I felt terrible that he'd been going through such torment and that we, living just across the road, had not been able to help him), and I like the idea of his soul being elevated, since he was in so much emotional pain toward the end of his life.  The violence of how he killed himself bothered me intensely, and so the lemon tree as a symbol of clearing away negative energy is nice, and I tie faithfulness in with the idea of a forgiving God(dess) who has accepted our friend's spirit and begun covering him with healing.     

The suicide of a loved one can leave survivors feeling sad, confused, angry, powerless, and depressed.  If you have experienced depression, feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, etc. and are considering suicide, or if you are dealing with the recent (or not so recent) suicide of someone close to you, you might consider checking out this link.  "How I Stayed Alive When My Brain Was Trying to Kill Me" by Susan Rose Blauner http://www.amazon.com/Stayed-Alive-When-Brain-Trying/dp/0066211212 is also a good book for those of us who deal with depression and have minds that occassionally endeavor to take us out. 

Peace.

Ready to Run!

Tickets for Disney have been purchased, the hotel has been booked, and soon the family and I will be happily wandering around in Walt's world of wonder. It amuses me that, in California, residents sometimes call Disney Land "the tragic kingdom". To me the nickname fits in well here to. I love going to Disney World, but Florida (at least where we live) is not my first choice of places to live and is certainly not the paradise some believe it to be. Of course, for the people laying such a claim, it might be. My version of a heavenly place would not include an absence of real seasons, inch long (and larger) cockroaches, one hundred percent humidity, and the sort of heat that wilts all forms of life suffering beneath it. But that's just me. I can't help but wonder if there aren't more people who agree with me but refuse to admit it because they spent so much time gloating to other people about how much better life was going to be once they moved here and now can't bear that they might have been wrong.

Anyway, today we'll try to figure out which park to visit (or parks- though we only have one day, so I'm not sure it's reasonable to assume we'll be park hopping). Sparkle Fairy is excited, as are we all (just escaping town for a couple of days is a joy-leaving the grind for some breathing time is refreshing). A friend is staying at our house to care for the animals and keep an eye on things. This gives me some sense of comfort as I intensely dislike leaving our dog at a kennel and am concerned by the crime which seems to be escalating around here. Just a few days ago one of our neighbors had his house robbed while it was covered and being treated for termites. He believes it was the actual workers who stole from his family and I have a feeling he's correct in this suspicion. I had a not so good feeling about them when I drove past the house and spied them draping the heavy tent over the place. I kept thinking that it would be easy for them to steal something but I shrugged it off. It's not like I could have stopped and admonished them, but it would've been amusing if I had and they'd been left to wonder how they'd been discovered. The problem with this scenario is that my gut feeling could've been wrong. My experience has been that it rarely is, but I still have trouble trusting it sometimes. We're so programmed to have faith only in what seems practical and to doubt that which defies reasonable explanation!

So, it's time to put down the coffee cup, catch a shower, and move forward with this day. As always, there is much to do and I'm already behind.

Blessings on your journey through the next 24!

Child of the Full Moon

"You've spent your life in the middle of things, whether it's between people who oppose each other, ideas that oppose each other, or places that are very different. You're very aware of perspectives outside the norm and good at anticipating how different people will see a situation. You value second opinions, because they give you a feeling of balance. You don't have a single group of friends and the people you spend time with may not have a lot in common with each other." (Characteristic of one born under a full moon.)

I discovered this site through the website of a woman who I truly admire  (the site is Spacefem.com) and was amused to discover that this really is pretty true.  I am blessed to enjoy the company of a diverse group of people of varying faiths, etc., I tend to be the mediator of peace in my family, and I almost will almost never accept the opinion of one person when something important is at stake.  My spiritual beliefs run far and wide, I don't honestly trust the teachings of any one book or religious leader, but I do believe there is a spiritual truth that runs through most faiths.  I feel the most comfortable with nature and the spiritual being I find there, and with the Goddess/God concept.  These things have brought me an enormous amount of comfort over the past month and have helped me to grow exponentially over the past few years.  In the Goddess I finally found my voice, and I wonder how it is that any faith which has relegated religion only to a masculine form has been able to satisfy the majority of women.   While I understand that this concept does work for some, it has always been a bit troubling to me.  That said, religion fascinates me, and I love talking about it, studying it, discussing the subject with other people.  I respect the beliefs of other people and very much enjoy learning about how they relate to a Higher Power, what rituals and traditions they follow.   I cringe only when I begin to hear words of exclusivity; claims of one way to redemption, condemnation to hell if one doesn't follow a prescribed path, and the idea that a murder who has lived his whole life terrorizing others will go to heaven by accepting Jesus as his Lord and savior but my Jewish Grandfather, who lived his life doing good for others and seeing the good in everyone (including said murderer) will not seem ridiculous to me.  Isn't our God more intelligent than that? It make no sense whatsoever that a God who understands human nature and our tendency to believe what our experiences reveal to us would operate this way. 

While I'm prattling, I wonder who, exactly, defines what is "normal"? So many of the people who I find to be interesting, fun, deeply spiritual,  and intelligent seem to fall outside of this perameter.  And, as I find myself walking into the forest of middle age, I care less and less what others opinions about "normal" are when they conflict with my own.  They may have their own beliefs, and I'm allowed to have mine, but I'm done with apologizing profusely when what I believe offends someone else.   I believe strongly in peace, justice, mercy, living as much as possible in harmony with the earth and stars, harming none unless I'm defending myself or someone else and harm is the only way to do that. 

 I hope that I will always be aware of "perspectives outside the norm".  This awareness had lead me into meeting some wonderful people over the past couple of years, and I look forward to meeting more and to developing closer relationships with some of those with whom I presently share company.

Namaste.

What Being a Mom Means to Me

Every year when Mother's Day rolls around I'm filled with gratitude.  This year, my thoughts were mixed.  Feelings of joy and of being profoundly grateful for the family with whom I've been gifted mingled with the sadness of my husband's Mom not being around this year to celebrate her own Mom-ness.  I knew (because each year when Father's Day makes its appearance on the calendar I experience a twinge of sorrow over my own Dad not being here to honor) that this year would be especially difficult for him.  I felt focused on making the day happy and fun for all of us, making the whole weekend happier for us all.  Indeed, it was wonderful, though, of course, not because of anything I did especially.  The weekend just came together well; friends invited us out to dinner, my husband had the spontaneous idea on Friday night of driving down to Fort Lauderdale Beach for dinner,  which opened the door to lots of fun and laughs.  Sunday we had a little time on our own, a rare treasure these days, and went to see Dark Shadows and then, well, the rest is private husband and wife type stuff.  

Anyway, Sunday morning, I heard Sparkle Fairy and the Hubs whispering in the bedroom as I sat at the kitchen table, bedraggled and sipping the day's first blessed slurp of coffee.  Casting a bleary eye toward the hallway, I saw her making her way to the kitchen, a sweet, secretive smile turning up the corners of her mouth, with Daddy close behind.  In her hand was a small bag, which she proudly presented to me as she kissed me and wished me a happy Mother's Day.  Tucked inside the bag was a large coffee mug from Dave & Buster's. She'd bought it for me with points she won there during a recent trip with her Dad. I was touched that she'd thought of me, that she'd used her precious tickets to buy me something for this special day, this day that she makes so special just by being here.  I always thank her on Mother's Day, because without her I wouldn't be a Mom, wouldn't know the amazing feeling fulfillment that parenthood brings to those of us with a heart for embarking on the journey.   Here the Sparkle Girl is giving me a gift, when I feel like I should be giving her something for presenting me every day with the indescribable joy of gazing upon her face every morning as she lays sleeping.   She nudges me to keep searching through the bag, and I pull out a small box.  Opening it, I find a little silver owl nestled into a bed of tissue paper, a new charm for the bracelet the Hubs started for me a couple of years back.  Owls have a special meaning for us: his Mom collected owls, and we inherited a large part of her collection when she passed over.  He explains in a soft voice how he felt like this was the perfect Mother's Day gift, how it made him think of life continuing through our daugther, even though his own Mother is gone.  Again, my heart wells, filled with the joy of the moment, with this wonderful way he thought to show his love for all of us and heal just a little bit more himself. 

Being a  Mom has shaped me, changed me, shifted my focus with regard to what is truly important in life.  Raising our daughter is teaching me, on a very intimate level,  just how quickly time passes, and just how vitally important it is to savor every little moment, to live fully in each experience we share with our families, our friends, and in the activities we cherish.  It's helped me to be more aware of the world "out there" that needs our help, that I should be more active in helping to heal the earth and her inhabitants, that my responsibility extends far beyond the reaches of my own threshold. 

In a word, being a Mom, to me, means, well--- everything.