Democracy has within it a constant dialogue of differences. It's something we should cherish. And the onset of the Social Networks have given us a forum for dialogue on every subject all around the world. But I'm noticing something else about the social network. It's revealing something even deeper. It's revealing one's character.
In between the lines of the topics that people post, whether it be politics, activism, opinions on movies, Youtube shares or simple pics of importance, you get to see right there in front of you, colors of the character of the person who is posting. Character is defined by google as "The mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual" and defined by Merriam-Webster as "one of the attributes or features that make up and distinguish an individual" So...
People reveal their character in their posts and comments in the Social Network forum. If they post pics of their pets you know they love animals. If they post links to concerts on youtube, you know they value the experience of music. If they post links to NY times articles, you know they value being intellectually astute. If they post links to gun shows, you know they value the right to bear arms. If they mostly post to "brag" about something you know they value attention and impressing others, if they post pictures of girls in bikinis in provocative positions, you know ....well...you know. But the beautiful thing about democracy is that everyone gets room to let their flag fly and be who they want to be and say what they want to say. But the thing that strikes me the most these days, is observing human reaction to other's self expression. Mostly if the reaction is adverse. And it always fascinates me when people choose to attack another's post that is distasteful to them rather than just "hiding" the post.
Right now presents quite an opportunity to observe the character of others as fires are being stoked everywhere in the dialogue regarding the last election and current affairs. And now the Benghazi issue.
Just today there was a post on Facebook asking how many other American consulates died in terrorist attacks in the previous administration? It was intended to question John McCain's latest platform. There was one person in particular who immediately piped with responses clothed in a hostile angry tone. See what I noticed was not so much his point but his TONE. His responses were constantly laced in angry and bullying language. And lots of Exclamation Points!!!!! Every time he was met with a calm response to his angry response, he pushed the hostility further. Until he eventually got personally insulting to the person who started the original post. At one point someone else piped in pleading that the tone be softened because of the sensitivity of the issue and those who had lost their lives in the attack.
The tone in this particular dialogue was only inflamed by one person. The Angry Hostile one. Everyone else was keeping their cool and intelligently exchanging ideas and facts. The Angry One clearly stood out. So what stood out was his ANGER and CRUDE LANGUAGE not his POINT. If anything, the anger and language caused everyone else to disregard his points. He shot himself in the foot by letting his anger and crude words rule his response. He successfully lowered his respectability and validity. His points would have been much more effective had he stayed calm and clear, and communicated his ideas with dignity and respect for others. He did not. And if he had stayed calm, what would the others have genuinely learned or been able to understand in a new way. He'll never know. We'll never know.
To me, that's the most secret and interesting and valuable part Facebook and these public chat forums. Not so much the opinions but the character of the persons behind the opinions. They reveal it in their words , tone and choices to use inflammatory language and insults... or not. I've learned so much about people by watching how they conduct themselves in these public cyber forums. It's almost as if the distance between them and the other people, because it's happening on screen, gives them a strange courage or permission to bully others or act inappropriately. And what is most noteworthy, is when I witness a behavior or color of character that I'd never seen in the person before when I was with them in person. It's like a Jekyll and Hyde or some dark Alter Ego comes out. Like the person I knew is just a public facade and this is who they really are. It's disconcerting and unsettling. But very informative at the same time.
And as I watch the angry ones rant in their rambling and hostile responses, I feel like I'm just watching them reveal their insecurities and shortcomings. It's uncomfortable not because I agree or disagree with their point but because I'm watching them voluntarily pull their pants down in front of others.
It reminds me of the moment in Obama's first State of the Union address in January 2010 when Joe Wilson, the Congressman from South Carolina, yelled out "You Lie" in the middle of Obama's address. That moment revealed the content of the character of both men. And, in my humble opinion, Obama's character stood tall while Joe Wilson's withered. That was a very loud moment in political history because it was so disrespectful. To speak to a president like that is so clearly out of turn. And, as a result, Joe Wilson is the only House member ever to have been admonished by the chamber for speaking out while the president was delivering a speech, according to the Office of the House Historian. A week after the incident, the House passed a resolution, largely along party lines, saying Wilson's conduct was a breach of congressional decorum that brought "discredit to the House."
But speaking to each other like that in CyberVille gets a pass? I know the two forums aren't even close to equal, but it's the basic principle of being respectful to each other as individuals.
I'm not at all saying that we can't get angry and express it. Or whine and complain or just let out emotions. It's absolutely human to do that. I'm not saying suppress true feelings or "act positive" or deny our own truth. It's essential that we embrace our true feelings and let them out. That we dig into topics that concern us and stand by our truth and convictions. That we stand up for what we feel is right and wrong. That we explore and uncover our shadows and darknesses and transform them through expression. I try to do it in my songs, in my writing, in my journaling, in my art. I'm a big believer of authentic expression. But in this post, I'm strictly addressing the "art of conversation" and "interest in communication" with others. And the way we dialogue about our differences. And particularly the phenomenon that happens in "cyber behavior" when we dialogue about our differences. And why in cyber behavior people lose their dignity in their expression and resort to attacking and directly hurting others as a tactic.
So why is it that "cyber behavior" is suddenly void of all the rules of "social behavior." It's ok to insult, degrade, bully, and belittle because we're not officially in each other's presence? Where does that switch live that we switch on and off in ourselves? How is that it is acceptable in one's own mind to be polite and calm when in the physical presence of others but rude and hostile in cyber presence?
MLK so eloquently stressed the importance of being judged by "content of character." And I wonder if we wouldn't all advance in intellect and citizenship if we raise our character when discussing important issues rather than lowering it? By standing in dignity and integrity in our behavior "cyber" and otherwise? By respecting the differences of others rather than belittling them.
My best conversations are with my friends with whom I might disagree on certain issues but our mutual respect keeps the conversation on a level where we both listen and learn. I cherish those conversations and believe I grow the most from them.
I will continue to be fascinated by those who voluntarily reveal the weakest and most unpleasant parts of their character so recklessly and sloppily on FB. Maybe it is a mirror for all of us to keep the checks and balances in place for ourselves? To give us an opportunity to raise ourselves rather than lower ourselves. To help rather than hurt. To create rather than destroy. To see that ultimately, we're all in this together and bonding over our similarities rather than fighting over our differences might be the first step to real change. And most of all, to keep getting better.
Showing posts with label the journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the journey. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Nothing can prepare you...
This is my first blog since what seemed like a nuclear torpedo crashed into my life as I had known it. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Because, as I now realize, nothing can prepare for the death of your mother. Especially a sudden death. Where one day she is just gone. No goodbye, no final words, no hugs, no "I love you" nothing. You are just left there, and she is gone.
My mother died suddenly, in her home in Santa Rosa, California on Monday March 7, 2011. The police declared the time of death 8:18 am. The Autopsy called it "Sudden Cardiac Death" She was 68 years old. The last words anyone heard were heard by her friend who she called for help. All her friend heard over the phone was a faint, out of breath, child-like voice struggling out the words..."help, help me, help." Her friend called 911 but by the time the police and the paramedics got there, she was gone. Incidentally, she lives right across the street from Police and Fire Station so we are all very perplexed at how long it took them to get there. But that's another blog.
That morning, I was in my flat in San Francisco just waking up when I heard my partner open my front door and enter. He pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, held my hand and said. "I love you very much. It's going to be a hard day, sweet, a very hard day. It's your mother." I slowly and clumsily tried to sit myself up looking confused and lost. He said "She had an episode this morning and was taken to the hospital." My face turned to a look of panic and concern. Then the words that you'll never forget for the rest of your life came out of his mouth. "She didn't make it."
At that moment the world literally stopped and I went white and numb. No emotion really, just stunned. I said "No, no , no" in a stilted and droned tone. The rest of the day is bleary and blurred. I threw the most haphazard, non sensical things into a bag. Jeans, hairspray, a dress, a luna bar, a hat...I don't even remember the rest. My incredibly supportive and helpful partner guided me to his car where he shuffled me into the passenger seat. We got coffee at Angelina's Cafe down the block, water from a convenient store and began the race up to Santa Rosa. That hour long drive is when it all just began kicking in. I started making the calls. It is in that process that it really becomes real. I called my dad, pertinent friends, anyone else I could think of.
We went straight to the hospital where one of her best friends with her husband was waiting for me. I walked into the lobby of the Emergency Room and she and I crashed into each other arms in a hug that was like clinging to life. We stood there hugging, shaking and sobbing. When we finally released the desperate embrace to take in the situation around us I was led into a little, tiny, sterile, cold room to be given further information. The priest, told me that they had already taken her body away so I couldn't see her. Everyone told me that was probably better. I explained that she was not a Christian so we didn't need any of his formal services. He began giving me information about Funeral Homes and such...all I heard was words, words, words. Nothing could be put together to make sense.
What then began is my first experience with the deep, muggy, murky, prickly, empty, lonely, swirling world of what they call "Grief." I've never had anyone close to me die before so this was my first time. What a way to start.
I'm an only child and my parents divorced when I was 13. I lived with my mother from that point on so needless to say we were as close as a mother and daughter could be. We locked arms and took the world on together. We were a system. A survival team. We were enmeshed. A word I came to understand later when I started reading literature on Co-Dependency. My mother and I definitely qualified. This only added to the complicated myriad of emotions I was about to experience. After doing some reading on "Greif" I've realized that I fall under the category of "Complicated Grief." The mother/daughter intertwining brings it all out. The good, the bad and the ugly.
The death seemed cruel and confusing. Not how it happened but "Why??" The only medical condition she had was COPD- Chronic Obtrusive Pulmonary Disease. It's essentially a form of emphysema. She smoked most of her life and her lungs had suffered some irreversible damage. We called it compromised breathing. It mainly meant she couldn't go up hills, lift heavy things, or do anything that would strain her lungs. She had inhalers she used to help her pathways. We never thought this would cause a sudden fatality. Especially at this stage in her life. I'm continually investigating how COPD might have contributed to her death.
She went very quickly and many say that's better, I'm still not sure. The death was cruel because it just didn't seem like her time. She was in mid stride, happier than she's ever been, more self-expressed and self-empowered than she had been her whole life. She was making great money working part-time as a Special Ed Teacher. A job that she LOVED and was extremely gifted at. Everyone at her school LOVED her - teachers, faculty and students alike. She was in that glorious place where she got to work with the kids but without the crushing overload that full time teachers experience. That she had experienced for so many years.
She was a very gifted artist. She actually got her BA in Fine Arts but when the divorce hit she had to put her art dreams on the back burner and find a job that would support her and her daughter. But the art was always prominent. Our house was bursting with all her work. Her paintings, etchings, prints and potteries. She had moved to more arts and crafts working on her newest creation "Plant Bling." Little sticks with sparkly beads boinging out on the top. You put the stick in the soil of the plant and the beads boing out around the leaves giving your plants some "bling." They are delightful and everyone took note of them. Teachers, friends and neighbors all marveled at her "Plant Bling"
This "life" that was illuminating from her made her death even more nonsensical to all of us who knew her well. It's been over a month and we are all still fighting our frustration. Our irritation. Our anger that she was taken too soon. You can absolutely bury yourself in the quicksand of "Why?" if you let yourself.
But then we turn to me. The change of color I was about to experience that rocked me to my core. It was like the etherial umbilical chord was being ripped from me bit by bit causing me to lose all sense of myself.
I got through the first day of death with copious amounts of white wine. White wine became a pal of rescue for most of the month of March and well into April. I don't know if that is the right way to handle it but I simply couldn't stand the pain in my abdomen and the relentless, self -critical voices in my head convincing me that her death was all my fault. I really believed that. One hundred percent. I went over all of the things I did, the choices I had made in the last few months, not being there enough. Every road led to it's all my fault.
The bomb really hit me on the third day. She died on a Monday. Tuesday was a blurry mush of disbelief. Just keeping up with the stuff. Feeding her cats, breaking the news of her death the the closest people, managing everyone's utter shock. It wasn't until Wednesday that I started melting down. The day we went to the Mortuary to arrange to have her Cremated.
It was a notably gloomy day. Grey sky, grey air, grey, grey, grey. All I could see was grey. Luckily my partner was protecting and helping me. He drove the car to the Funeral Home. There's no way I could have driven through the tears. The parking lot was sad and empty and the building was droll and dull. Walking in the door to the sterile room, beige floor, beige wall, cold and stark had a chill that stiffened me. We sat on a sad, uncomfortable little flowered couch that looked like it came from the Good Will while we waited to go back into the little room to handle the paperwork. Signing the papers to have her cremated seemed like the most complicated, confusing paperwork I'd ever done in my life. And the tears wouldn't stop. I could barely maintain. I asked the same questions over and over again and couldn't even see where to print my name. We had to stop several times. Carmen, the gentle, older man who ran the Funeral Home just surrendered and got up to get me kleenex. We had to just wait until the emotional storm passed. I finally managed to sign the papers, I wrote the check, and then I slowly rose to walk back out to the car. Carmen put his hands on my shoulders, looked at me with loving grandpa eyes and said " I'm so sorry about your mother" and he gave me the longest most sincere hug I had ever had from a stranger.
My partner and I walked back out into the grey world, got into the car and I fell apart. Every part of me. I had this overwhelming, oppressive cloud come over me and I was convinced that I was nothing. That she was the spark in me. She was the light and without her I'm a complete nothing. I'm a dark, drab, failure. Dizzy dismay spelled that day. I had to call my father in a state of emergency. A frantic search for who I was.
Thank god my father and I have the relationship that we have. He has been outstanding. Keeping his cell phone on him in an "on call" status at all hours. Whether at work or asleep, he picks up and is there for me. I'm extraordinarily lucky to have him. I would need him as the hardest part of this journey was just beginning.
When someone dies, whether you want to or not, you inevitably start finding out things about them that you didn't know. This was very disorienting for me because, of course, I thought I knew everything about my mother. Well apparently there were many things I didn't know about her. She loved to eat at a fried fish taco stand when she would go to Estate Sales with her friend, she would bring all the teachers into faculty room to eat Fritos when things got too stressful at school, her students called her "Mommy" she put a smiley face in her checkbook when she balanced it to the penny, and she was working on delightful new art projects, making jewelry, and she had planned to put new dark curtains in my room. I'm sure it's so that I knew I could sleep well in there so I would come there more often. It's a lonely feeling to find these things out after she's gone because it makes me feel even farther away from her.
The next and most powerful form of grief for me was just about to hit. The complete self-loathing, self-blaming, self-criticizing, self-rejection basically a complete lack of self-worth. My mother and I had a dynamic that had a very strong pull on me. I found myself constantly trying to protect, take care, assist and lift her. At times it was as if, if i walked away from her she would fall down, make a mistake, hurt herself, break something. That if I didn't monitor her all the time, something would go wrong.
One Christmas Eve, I was at her house with my partner. We all were having quite a roaring time. The wine was a flowing, the music was playing, laughter was rolling through the evening. For one minute, I left to go into the kitchen while she was alone in the living room. Almost the minute I walked out of the room I heard this unsettling bang/ thump in the living room. I ran into see that my mother had fallen face down by the wall by the tv. I guess she was trying to plug something into the wall. She looked up and her face was completely bloody. She had slammed her upper lip on the side of a chair. I immediately thought it was my fault. "I never should have left the room, " I thought.
The next day my mother woke up looking like a cross between the Elephant Woman and Rocky. Her face was extremely swollen, bloody and black and blue. We were supposed to all go to a friend's house for Christmas dinner. We were supposed to go to this beautiful mansion in the elegant neighborhood in Santa Rosa. Needless to say, my mother decided not to go. I felt so guilty leaving her alone on Christmas day. She seemed ok with it but I know she would have loved it if I had stayed. And to this day, I still feel like I should have stayed with her and not gone to the dinner.
I have countless examples of this dynamic in our history. So it's not hard to imagine what I was absolutely pummeled with when she died alone in her house and I wan't there to save her. It's all my fault. I literally thought I "killed" her. I "killed her because I wasn't there enough, she was resisting my current partner, I didn't live with her, I didn't call her the day before just to say hi and see how she was doing. I lived in this cloud of regret and self blame constantly for the first two weeks after her death.
Another lovely dynamic to add to this complicated grief was that she did not like my current partner. She had dozens of reasons why she wanted me away from him. The problem was he was incredibly supportive to ME. Maybe he wasn't all about her, but he was a rock of support for ME. This caused palpable tension in our relationship.
After her death, I found myself hovering closely to her community of friends. They hovered close to me too. We were all hovering close to each other to soothe the big empty hole where my mother used to be. We were each grasping for her in each other. As we all started to break down our barriers it started to come out that my mother had been shall we say, quite publicly opinionated about my how she felt about my partner. She had been complaining to all of them about him and basically trashing him in the process. How was I supposed to explain to them that they were only hearing a "version" of him through my mother's clouded filter.
The despondency that followed was a new planet of dark for me. I have never felt more worthless, useless, and like I was a complete failure and disappointment. That I had wasted my life. I was struggling with my partner for my own reasons and this just pushed me over the edge. I almost broke up with him everyday for 3 weeks. Everyone told me not to make any big changes while grieving but I woke up every day with paralyzing anxiety that if I didn't break up with my partner I would always be living an ignoble life that my mother would and will disapprove of.
It was in the blackest moments that I realized that it was time for professional help. A recommendation from a dear friend led me to an incredible woman who we'll call Dr P. She goes deep into the subconscious and psychological root causes of your current condition, block, or pain. It's like having an emotional root canal. We got to a very key place: I am not responsible for my mother's pain. Something clicked for me in this session. I have never had one of those therapy sessions where you have a "breakthrough." All of my talk therapy sessions in the past have left me with a hoarse tired voice and still feeling crappy. Just "talking, talking, talking" about all the intellectual reasons for my feelings have never led me to that ever desired "breakthrough." My experience with Dr P. was a whole new world for me. It was literally the turning point.
So now I am at least able to get back on my feet without feeling completely worthless so that I can deal with her affairs. Her friends and my friends have been outstanding. I am so blessed to have beautiful helpers fluttering around me at all times helping me out. They have really been the unsung heroes.
Her "Celebration of Life" Memorial Service that we had was exqusitely beautiful. It couldn't have gone more perfect. We had it at the most beautiful house of her dear friend. Many people showed up, it was a beautiful day, I gave a speech and we presented some DVD's of photos that we put together for the event. I had her artwork displayed all over the house. And all my musician friends came up and we played music in her honor to close the day. Many said it was the best Service they had ever been to. I am so grateful.
I am still in mid grief. There are many emotions running in and out of me. This blog is just the first of many to come on this topic I'm sure. I'm digging deeper into the cause of her death and I have a feeling a blog on the prescription inhalers used by COPD patients is in the near future. But for now, at least I pulled out of the murky muck enough to write again. And that's the first start. Thanks for reading, listening and sharing this experience. P.S. No matter how you feel about your mother, call her and tell her you love her. You'll be glad you did later.
My mother died suddenly, in her home in Santa Rosa, California on Monday March 7, 2011. The police declared the time of death 8:18 am. The Autopsy called it "Sudden Cardiac Death" She was 68 years old. The last words anyone heard were heard by her friend who she called for help. All her friend heard over the phone was a faint, out of breath, child-like voice struggling out the words..."help, help me, help." Her friend called 911 but by the time the police and the paramedics got there, she was gone. Incidentally, she lives right across the street from Police and Fire Station so we are all very perplexed at how long it took them to get there. But that's another blog.
That morning, I was in my flat in San Francisco just waking up when I heard my partner open my front door and enter. He pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, held my hand and said. "I love you very much. It's going to be a hard day, sweet, a very hard day. It's your mother." I slowly and clumsily tried to sit myself up looking confused and lost. He said "She had an episode this morning and was taken to the hospital." My face turned to a look of panic and concern. Then the words that you'll never forget for the rest of your life came out of his mouth. "She didn't make it."
At that moment the world literally stopped and I went white and numb. No emotion really, just stunned. I said "No, no , no" in a stilted and droned tone. The rest of the day is bleary and blurred. I threw the most haphazard, non sensical things into a bag. Jeans, hairspray, a dress, a luna bar, a hat...I don't even remember the rest. My incredibly supportive and helpful partner guided me to his car where he shuffled me into the passenger seat. We got coffee at Angelina's Cafe down the block, water from a convenient store and began the race up to Santa Rosa. That hour long drive is when it all just began kicking in. I started making the calls. It is in that process that it really becomes real. I called my dad, pertinent friends, anyone else I could think of.
We went straight to the hospital where one of her best friends with her husband was waiting for me. I walked into the lobby of the Emergency Room and she and I crashed into each other arms in a hug that was like clinging to life. We stood there hugging, shaking and sobbing. When we finally released the desperate embrace to take in the situation around us I was led into a little, tiny, sterile, cold room to be given further information. The priest, told me that they had already taken her body away so I couldn't see her. Everyone told me that was probably better. I explained that she was not a Christian so we didn't need any of his formal services. He began giving me information about Funeral Homes and such...all I heard was words, words, words. Nothing could be put together to make sense.
What then began is my first experience with the deep, muggy, murky, prickly, empty, lonely, swirling world of what they call "Grief." I've never had anyone close to me die before so this was my first time. What a way to start.
I'm an only child and my parents divorced when I was 13. I lived with my mother from that point on so needless to say we were as close as a mother and daughter could be. We locked arms and took the world on together. We were a system. A survival team. We were enmeshed. A word I came to understand later when I started reading literature on Co-Dependency. My mother and I definitely qualified. This only added to the complicated myriad of emotions I was about to experience. After doing some reading on "Greif" I've realized that I fall under the category of "Complicated Grief." The mother/daughter intertwining brings it all out. The good, the bad and the ugly.
The death seemed cruel and confusing. Not how it happened but "Why??" The only medical condition she had was COPD- Chronic Obtrusive Pulmonary Disease. It's essentially a form of emphysema. She smoked most of her life and her lungs had suffered some irreversible damage. We called it compromised breathing. It mainly meant she couldn't go up hills, lift heavy things, or do anything that would strain her lungs. She had inhalers she used to help her pathways. We never thought this would cause a sudden fatality. Especially at this stage in her life. I'm continually investigating how COPD might have contributed to her death.
She went very quickly and many say that's better, I'm still not sure. The death was cruel because it just didn't seem like her time. She was in mid stride, happier than she's ever been, more self-expressed and self-empowered than she had been her whole life. She was making great money working part-time as a Special Ed Teacher. A job that she LOVED and was extremely gifted at. Everyone at her school LOVED her - teachers, faculty and students alike. She was in that glorious place where she got to work with the kids but without the crushing overload that full time teachers experience. That she had experienced for so many years.
She was a very gifted artist. She actually got her BA in Fine Arts but when the divorce hit she had to put her art dreams on the back burner and find a job that would support her and her daughter. But the art was always prominent. Our house was bursting with all her work. Her paintings, etchings, prints and potteries. She had moved to more arts and crafts working on her newest creation "Plant Bling." Little sticks with sparkly beads boinging out on the top. You put the stick in the soil of the plant and the beads boing out around the leaves giving your plants some "bling." They are delightful and everyone took note of them. Teachers, friends and neighbors all marveled at her "Plant Bling"
This "life" that was illuminating from her made her death even more nonsensical to all of us who knew her well. It's been over a month and we are all still fighting our frustration. Our irritation. Our anger that she was taken too soon. You can absolutely bury yourself in the quicksand of "Why?" if you let yourself.
But then we turn to me. The change of color I was about to experience that rocked me to my core. It was like the etherial umbilical chord was being ripped from me bit by bit causing me to lose all sense of myself.
I got through the first day of death with copious amounts of white wine. White wine became a pal of rescue for most of the month of March and well into April. I don't know if that is the right way to handle it but I simply couldn't stand the pain in my abdomen and the relentless, self -critical voices in my head convincing me that her death was all my fault. I really believed that. One hundred percent. I went over all of the things I did, the choices I had made in the last few months, not being there enough. Every road led to it's all my fault.
The bomb really hit me on the third day. She died on a Monday. Tuesday was a blurry mush of disbelief. Just keeping up with the stuff. Feeding her cats, breaking the news of her death the the closest people, managing everyone's utter shock. It wasn't until Wednesday that I started melting down. The day we went to the Mortuary to arrange to have her Cremated.
It was a notably gloomy day. Grey sky, grey air, grey, grey, grey. All I could see was grey. Luckily my partner was protecting and helping me. He drove the car to the Funeral Home. There's no way I could have driven through the tears. The parking lot was sad and empty and the building was droll and dull. Walking in the door to the sterile room, beige floor, beige wall, cold and stark had a chill that stiffened me. We sat on a sad, uncomfortable little flowered couch that looked like it came from the Good Will while we waited to go back into the little room to handle the paperwork. Signing the papers to have her cremated seemed like the most complicated, confusing paperwork I'd ever done in my life. And the tears wouldn't stop. I could barely maintain. I asked the same questions over and over again and couldn't even see where to print my name. We had to stop several times. Carmen, the gentle, older man who ran the Funeral Home just surrendered and got up to get me kleenex. We had to just wait until the emotional storm passed. I finally managed to sign the papers, I wrote the check, and then I slowly rose to walk back out to the car. Carmen put his hands on my shoulders, looked at me with loving grandpa eyes and said " I'm so sorry about your mother" and he gave me the longest most sincere hug I had ever had from a stranger.
My partner and I walked back out into the grey world, got into the car and I fell apart. Every part of me. I had this overwhelming, oppressive cloud come over me and I was convinced that I was nothing. That she was the spark in me. She was the light and without her I'm a complete nothing. I'm a dark, drab, failure. Dizzy dismay spelled that day. I had to call my father in a state of emergency. A frantic search for who I was.
Thank god my father and I have the relationship that we have. He has been outstanding. Keeping his cell phone on him in an "on call" status at all hours. Whether at work or asleep, he picks up and is there for me. I'm extraordinarily lucky to have him. I would need him as the hardest part of this journey was just beginning.
When someone dies, whether you want to or not, you inevitably start finding out things about them that you didn't know. This was very disorienting for me because, of course, I thought I knew everything about my mother. Well apparently there were many things I didn't know about her. She loved to eat at a fried fish taco stand when she would go to Estate Sales with her friend, she would bring all the teachers into faculty room to eat Fritos when things got too stressful at school, her students called her "Mommy" she put a smiley face in her checkbook when she balanced it to the penny, and she was working on delightful new art projects, making jewelry, and she had planned to put new dark curtains in my room. I'm sure it's so that I knew I could sleep well in there so I would come there more often. It's a lonely feeling to find these things out after she's gone because it makes me feel even farther away from her.
The next and most powerful form of grief for me was just about to hit. The complete self-loathing, self-blaming, self-criticizing, self-rejection basically a complete lack of self-worth. My mother and I had a dynamic that had a very strong pull on me. I found myself constantly trying to protect, take care, assist and lift her. At times it was as if, if i walked away from her she would fall down, make a mistake, hurt herself, break something. That if I didn't monitor her all the time, something would go wrong.
One Christmas Eve, I was at her house with my partner. We all were having quite a roaring time. The wine was a flowing, the music was playing, laughter was rolling through the evening. For one minute, I left to go into the kitchen while she was alone in the living room. Almost the minute I walked out of the room I heard this unsettling bang/ thump in the living room. I ran into see that my mother had fallen face down by the wall by the tv. I guess she was trying to plug something into the wall. She looked up and her face was completely bloody. She had slammed her upper lip on the side of a chair. I immediately thought it was my fault. "I never should have left the room, " I thought.
The next day my mother woke up looking like a cross between the Elephant Woman and Rocky. Her face was extremely swollen, bloody and black and blue. We were supposed to all go to a friend's house for Christmas dinner. We were supposed to go to this beautiful mansion in the elegant neighborhood in Santa Rosa. Needless to say, my mother decided not to go. I felt so guilty leaving her alone on Christmas day. She seemed ok with it but I know she would have loved it if I had stayed. And to this day, I still feel like I should have stayed with her and not gone to the dinner.
I have countless examples of this dynamic in our history. So it's not hard to imagine what I was absolutely pummeled with when she died alone in her house and I wan't there to save her. It's all my fault. I literally thought I "killed" her. I "killed her because I wasn't there enough, she was resisting my current partner, I didn't live with her, I didn't call her the day before just to say hi and see how she was doing. I lived in this cloud of regret and self blame constantly for the first two weeks after her death.
Another lovely dynamic to add to this complicated grief was that she did not like my current partner. She had dozens of reasons why she wanted me away from him. The problem was he was incredibly supportive to ME. Maybe he wasn't all about her, but he was a rock of support for ME. This caused palpable tension in our relationship.
After her death, I found myself hovering closely to her community of friends. They hovered close to me too. We were all hovering close to each other to soothe the big empty hole where my mother used to be. We were each grasping for her in each other. As we all started to break down our barriers it started to come out that my mother had been shall we say, quite publicly opinionated about my how she felt about my partner. She had been complaining to all of them about him and basically trashing him in the process. How was I supposed to explain to them that they were only hearing a "version" of him through my mother's clouded filter.
The despondency that followed was a new planet of dark for me. I have never felt more worthless, useless, and like I was a complete failure and disappointment. That I had wasted my life. I was struggling with my partner for my own reasons and this just pushed me over the edge. I almost broke up with him everyday for 3 weeks. Everyone told me not to make any big changes while grieving but I woke up every day with paralyzing anxiety that if I didn't break up with my partner I would always be living an ignoble life that my mother would and will disapprove of.
It was in the blackest moments that I realized that it was time for professional help. A recommendation from a dear friend led me to an incredible woman who we'll call Dr P. She goes deep into the subconscious and psychological root causes of your current condition, block, or pain. It's like having an emotional root canal. We got to a very key place: I am not responsible for my mother's pain. Something clicked for me in this session. I have never had one of those therapy sessions where you have a "breakthrough." All of my talk therapy sessions in the past have left me with a hoarse tired voice and still feeling crappy. Just "talking, talking, talking" about all the intellectual reasons for my feelings have never led me to that ever desired "breakthrough." My experience with Dr P. was a whole new world for me. It was literally the turning point.
So now I am at least able to get back on my feet without feeling completely worthless so that I can deal with her affairs. Her friends and my friends have been outstanding. I am so blessed to have beautiful helpers fluttering around me at all times helping me out. They have really been the unsung heroes.
Her "Celebration of Life" Memorial Service that we had was exqusitely beautiful. It couldn't have gone more perfect. We had it at the most beautiful house of her dear friend. Many people showed up, it was a beautiful day, I gave a speech and we presented some DVD's of photos that we put together for the event. I had her artwork displayed all over the house. And all my musician friends came up and we played music in her honor to close the day. Many said it was the best Service they had ever been to. I am so grateful.
I am still in mid grief. There are many emotions running in and out of me. This blog is just the first of many to come on this topic I'm sure. I'm digging deeper into the cause of her death and I have a feeling a blog on the prescription inhalers used by COPD patients is in the near future. But for now, at least I pulled out of the murky muck enough to write again. And that's the first start. Thanks for reading, listening and sharing this experience. P.S. No matter how you feel about your mother, call her and tell her you love her. You'll be glad you did later.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
new sprouting seeds
One of the exciting parts of leaving a situation in your life that isn't working is that it leaves lots of time and space for the things in your life to emerge and grow. But you have to be proactive. Which means maybe face some fear in order to take action steps in the direction of your dreams. Took some big ones this week.
There's this wonderful place in San Francisco called The Bazaar Cafe. It reminds of the bohemian cafes I've read about in Greenwich village in the 60's where all the poets, songwriters and artists would go to share their ideas, songs and inspirations. The BC has music and creative performances almost 7 days a week. And there's a little community of artists regulars who are always there, working on their stuff. One big rule they have is that NO COVERS are allowed to be played. It has to be all original music, or poetry, or comedy or whatever, but it has to be original. On Thursdays, they have an open mic for songwriters. Each songwriter gets 2 songs. Last Thursday, I signed up. I had the 8:22pm slot. Although, I have been singing professionally for over 10 years, I have never just sat down on a piano, in any kind of venue and played my songs by myself. Without a band, without someone else actually taking the piano chair, or teaching my songs to a guitar player and having he ( or she) play my song while I just sing. It's amazing how different it is to play and sing your own songs. It is the height of self expression. You can move and breathe with the song exactly as you want to. However, it's also a bigger risk. What if people don't like your song? When you play an old favorite cover song that you know everyone loves, you're almost guaranteed to get a positive response. The song does the work for you. An artist can almost hide behind the song that way. The song will win them over so your talent and skill sometimes doesn't even matter. Playing your own song, however, is a whole different dynamic.
I have wanted to do this forever but, alas, the little fear gremlin has been much too powerful. But this is the era of my taking on that little monster and busting through. The rewards are immense. The positive feedback I'm receiving is overwhelming. I have been offered a gig there. I'm on my way. The seed has been planted and with a just a little nurturing and watering it is already started to sprout. Very exciting. When you move in the direction of your dreams with integrity and honesty, the universe showers you with encouragent.
Another sprouting seed. My duet, DNA Sings . We played Friday night at Tiernan's. Gushing reaction from the crowd. Sold about 10 CD's, had an offer to do another show, it's like we cast a spell on the crowd. And even thought DNA does play covers, we put our own spin on them so there is room for artistic play. It's soooo rewarding to share your music and have it not only touch people but almost transfix them. To play a song, from the heart, and have it palpably elevate people's moods. It's the reason I do it. The music business can be so prickly that it's important to have these experiences to remind one why they wanted to play music in it in the first place.
ordering new DNA business cards...i know, what's a business card? Believe it or not they still come in useful from time to time.
It's Sunday, play day...have a great one. Enjoy!
There's this wonderful place in San Francisco called The Bazaar Cafe. It reminds of the bohemian cafes I've read about in Greenwich village in the 60's where all the poets, songwriters and artists would go to share their ideas, songs and inspirations. The BC has music and creative performances almost 7 days a week. And there's a little community of artists regulars who are always there, working on their stuff. One big rule they have is that NO COVERS are allowed to be played. It has to be all original music, or poetry, or comedy or whatever, but it has to be original. On Thursdays, they have an open mic for songwriters. Each songwriter gets 2 songs. Last Thursday, I signed up. I had the 8:22pm slot. Although, I have been singing professionally for over 10 years, I have never just sat down on a piano, in any kind of venue and played my songs by myself. Without a band, without someone else actually taking the piano chair, or teaching my songs to a guitar player and having he ( or she) play my song while I just sing. It's amazing how different it is to play and sing your own songs. It is the height of self expression. You can move and breathe with the song exactly as you want to. However, it's also a bigger risk. What if people don't like your song? When you play an old favorite cover song that you know everyone loves, you're almost guaranteed to get a positive response. The song does the work for you. An artist can almost hide behind the song that way. The song will win them over so your talent and skill sometimes doesn't even matter. Playing your own song, however, is a whole different dynamic.
I have wanted to do this forever but, alas, the little fear gremlin has been much too powerful. But this is the era of my taking on that little monster and busting through. The rewards are immense. The positive feedback I'm receiving is overwhelming. I have been offered a gig there. I'm on my way. The seed has been planted and with a just a little nurturing and watering it is already started to sprout. Very exciting. When you move in the direction of your dreams with integrity and honesty, the universe showers you with encouragent.
Another sprouting seed. My duet, DNA Sings . We played Friday night at Tiernan's. Gushing reaction from the crowd. Sold about 10 CD's, had an offer to do another show, it's like we cast a spell on the crowd. And even thought DNA does play covers, we put our own spin on them so there is room for artistic play. It's soooo rewarding to share your music and have it not only touch people but almost transfix them. To play a song, from the heart, and have it palpably elevate people's moods. It's the reason I do it. The music business can be so prickly that it's important to have these experiences to remind one why they wanted to play music in it in the first place.
ordering new DNA business cards...i know, what's a business card? Believe it or not they still come in useful from time to time.
It's Sunday, play day...have a great one. Enjoy!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
wide open spaces
It's a beautiful Tuesday here in San Francisco. I'm well slept and looking ahead to how I'm going to create this day. I've recently had a pretty major life change. In November of 2010, I left a professional situation that I have been in for 5 years. I left because every bone in my body and every instinct that screamed at me kept telling me the same things. "You're not happy" and "You're destined for something else in this world". I could no longer ignore or shove down these voices. And as scary as it seemed, I had to make the change.
Another big change happened because a, shall we say, family duty that I have been in charge of for about 5 years finally came to nearing it's end. I have been the Administrator for my deceased uncle's Estate. He was my mother's brother. I did not know my uncle very well but I have a very small family, and due to the emotional chaos it was causing my mother, I offered to be Administrator. Boy, was I unprepared for what I had walked into. Let's just say I was completely unprepared for how crazy, mean, and unreasonable people can get in matters of money. I have been bullied, attacked and threatened by his former business partner. I have been legally bullied, harassed and terrorized by his former business partner's unscrupulous lawyer. And I have been constantly pulled to deal with what seem to be unending Estate Probate details. However, things are nearing a close and I, hopefully, will soon be totally free from that situation.
I also lost a very part time little job that I was doing on the side. I have these little side incomes to supplement my career during the slow times. The music business is very up and down and you have to be prepared for a few slow periods. I lost the job because the woman I was working for moved away.
As I reflect on it now, it's much more than a coincidence that these three situations were all in my life during the same 5 years and that they all ended in December of last year. All of them... I believe that when the universe converges on us like that, that it is more than random. I believe in the Law of Attraction, in the force of our energies, thoughts and desires. And the ability of all of these things to come together to dramatically change the circumstances in our lives. I believe that I am being given a gift from the universe to truly take on my own life. To take the reigns in a more definitive way than I ever have. To direct my own ship. To truly create the life I want to lead, not just scramble constantly in the life I find myself in. The universe has felt and heard how unhappy I have been for several years in all of these situations. And in one fell swoop...woooosh...I'm out of all of them. I didn't plan it that way. They all just randomly fell away at the same time.
So, I am now in a whole new place of discovery. I am here looking at my life as a big wide open space. A blank canvas ready for me to create and color it anyway I choose. It's unbelievably freeing but also very scary. It has made me aware of how convenient it is to have the drama in your life distract you from having to face the true inner you. All of the pain, confusion, anger, sadness, resentment, depression and apathy that was caused from the Big 3 ( as I will call the three situations that fell away) kept me constantly distracted from really looking at the true, authentic me. And my constant focus on one or all of the Big 3 certainly kept me from focusing, asserting and putting the Authentic, Fully Expressed me out into the world.
So here I am.
There are things I've always wanted to do but have been too afraid or self-critical to do. Play my own songs on piano live in concert. Ride a motorcycle. Start a blog. So now is my time. I'm on the path and I'm taking them on. I've passed a motorcycle training course and I'm soon to have my license. I've been sitting in at an open mic with my own songs and have been offered a gig there. I'm preparing for that and preparing to record my own album. And well, the blog, you know the answer to that.
I'm only about two months in since the Big Change. But already I'm sooooo reminded that fear is such a destructive little gremlin. It sounds and feels SO BIG when it's clamoring away in my head but when I just go ahead and do the thing anyway, I realize the fear has no real power. It's just a very persistant little gremlin that wants tons of attention. And it's my choice to feed it or to point my attention elsewhere. On possibility, on what I want, on how to get my thing done. The power of attention is enormous. It absolutely magnetizes and energized whatever we point it at.
So that's my goal for the day. My mantra.
"I will focus my attention on what I wish to create"
What will I create in my wide open space?
Another big change happened because a, shall we say, family duty that I have been in charge of for about 5 years finally came to nearing it's end. I have been the Administrator for my deceased uncle's Estate. He was my mother's brother. I did not know my uncle very well but I have a very small family, and due to the emotional chaos it was causing my mother, I offered to be Administrator. Boy, was I unprepared for what I had walked into. Let's just say I was completely unprepared for how crazy, mean, and unreasonable people can get in matters of money. I have been bullied, attacked and threatened by his former business partner. I have been legally bullied, harassed and terrorized by his former business partner's unscrupulous lawyer. And I have been constantly pulled to deal with what seem to be unending Estate Probate details. However, things are nearing a close and I, hopefully, will soon be totally free from that situation.
I also lost a very part time little job that I was doing on the side. I have these little side incomes to supplement my career during the slow times. The music business is very up and down and you have to be prepared for a few slow periods. I lost the job because the woman I was working for moved away.
As I reflect on it now, it's much more than a coincidence that these three situations were all in my life during the same 5 years and that they all ended in December of last year. All of them... I believe that when the universe converges on us like that, that it is more than random. I believe in the Law of Attraction, in the force of our energies, thoughts and desires. And the ability of all of these things to come together to dramatically change the circumstances in our lives. I believe that I am being given a gift from the universe to truly take on my own life. To take the reigns in a more definitive way than I ever have. To direct my own ship. To truly create the life I want to lead, not just scramble constantly in the life I find myself in. The universe has felt and heard how unhappy I have been for several years in all of these situations. And in one fell swoop...woooosh...I'm out of all of them. I didn't plan it that way. They all just randomly fell away at the same time.
So, I am now in a whole new place of discovery. I am here looking at my life as a big wide open space. A blank canvas ready for me to create and color it anyway I choose. It's unbelievably freeing but also very scary. It has made me aware of how convenient it is to have the drama in your life distract you from having to face the true inner you. All of the pain, confusion, anger, sadness, resentment, depression and apathy that was caused from the Big 3 ( as I will call the three situations that fell away) kept me constantly distracted from really looking at the true, authentic me. And my constant focus on one or all of the Big 3 certainly kept me from focusing, asserting and putting the Authentic, Fully Expressed me out into the world.
So here I am.
There are things I've always wanted to do but have been too afraid or self-critical to do. Play my own songs on piano live in concert. Ride a motorcycle. Start a blog. So now is my time. I'm on the path and I'm taking them on. I've passed a motorcycle training course and I'm soon to have my license. I've been sitting in at an open mic with my own songs and have been offered a gig there. I'm preparing for that and preparing to record my own album. And well, the blog, you know the answer to that.
I'm only about two months in since the Big Change. But already I'm sooooo reminded that fear is such a destructive little gremlin. It sounds and feels SO BIG when it's clamoring away in my head but when I just go ahead and do the thing anyway, I realize the fear has no real power. It's just a very persistant little gremlin that wants tons of attention. And it's my choice to feed it or to point my attention elsewhere. On possibility, on what I want, on how to get my thing done. The power of attention is enormous. It absolutely magnetizes and energized whatever we point it at.
So that's my goal for the day. My mantra.
"I will focus my attention on what I wish to create"
What will I create in my wide open space?
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