James and I didn't really talk about our final wishes. I was only in my early 30's and he was going to live until he was 80, so we didn't feel there was much of a need to do so. He did know he wanted to be cremated, however, but figured he had plenty of time to figure out where he wanted his ashes spread. Turns out he was wrong.
After James died, I had him cremated as I knew to do so. But since he didn't have time to find the perfect spot to be spread, that meant I didn't know what to do with him. So I put him on the mantle between the picture used at his funerals (yes, plural) and his favorite picture from the cruise we took in 2007 that I'd blown up, framed and given him just a month before as an anniversary of our engagement present. (We didn't celebrate it-I had a coupon for a free 8 x 10 print from Walgreens and that is just how the timing worked out). It was a shrine of sorts but not the least bit over the top as the cruise picture is of the harbor in Ocho Rios, Jamaica and we aren't in it. Most people just think it's a picture of boats unless I explain the significance to them.
James sat on the mantle until December 2010. My best guy pal convinced me we should co-host a Christmas potluck for the New in Town Meetup group members who had nowhere to go. I didn't want to put a damper on things by having to explain who James was so I decided to move him. I'd been feeling it was time to do so anyway. I left the picture of the harbor but moved his picture upstairs to the office and put him on my dresser as I still don't know where to spread the ashes. I've also decided that when the dogs go, I want to cremate them, put them with James and spread them all together. Though the body is just a vessel, I want the boys to be reunited with him and this is how I can make that happen. However, they've been informed they aren't allowed to die so this is really a non-issue.
The other night I was cleaning off my dresser. Being that it is right by the bedroom door, it becomes cluttered easily with socks that didn't quite dry all the way or whose mates ended up in a different load (or abducted by sock monsters), things that need to go downstairs, gifts that don't have a home yet, etc. As I was standing there looking at the dresser, I realized I didn't want James to be there anymore. I don't know where this came from, but the feeling was pretty strong that he just belongs elsewhere now. But where?
My first thought was to put him back on the mantle. But the mantle is now covered with pictures of me and my closest friends, with one exception. The mantle shows where my life is now, and to return James to there would be a step back. (The picture of the harbor is now in the office on one of the bookshelves). Putting him in the office didn't feel right either. I realized as I was trying to find a new home for him I don't want him on public display (although his urn looks like a decorative vase; I chose it for that reason). But I didn't want to shove him in a closet either, so my options were limited.
I put him on the bookshelf in the back bedroom (aka the craft/exercise room). He's there with my mug from my high school graduation night party, my college diploma, my bouquet from my best friend's wedding, a porcelain dove, and a few other memorable items from my transition from child into adult. Incidentally, his black and gold urn matches my diploma.
That same night I had a dream about him. I don't dream about him very often and when I do, it's usually not pleasant. Usually, he's far away for work and due to the time change, I can't get in touch with him, or he's leaving me for someone else. In this dream, I was at a "cabin" in the woods ("cabin" that was bigger than my house!). I was taking a nap and had a dream he was there going through our Tae Kwon Do uniforms. I was worried he was going to be upset to discover I'd given his away (they were in a box I took to Goodwill that day in my for real awake life). But he just put on one of mine and a mullet wig and was pretending to be Elvis. (This is totally something he would have done). I debated for a bit and then went and asked him why he died. I both needed and didn't want to know. He laughed and said "I chose to die so I could lives." While I debated pointing out the use of "lives" as plural vs singular, he just wandered off and disappeared. I woke up from my dream within a dream and my friend was sitting on the bed. She asked who I was talking to-apparently I'd been talking in my sleep but wasn't coherent. I told her about my dream of James and then we went to get a couple of packages ready to be mailed. In my dream, he was definitely happy without a care in the world, which is true to how he was in life as well.
I've felt a sadness the last couple of days since all of this has happened. I know James didn't die on purpose and it was just a dream but it was still hard to have my mind tell me he made a choice and that choice was a life that doesn't include me. It's weird not to have him publicly displayed in my house-the door to the room he is in now is kept closed to keep the boys out. (Most things in my house are somehow "spaniel proofed"), but I don't feel that was the wrong decision either. It's just another step in moving forward-in getting myself to a place where I can let someone else in (in the seemingly unlikely event someone should actually come along, that is) should that be the plan for my life. And there is also the uncertainty of where my life is actually heading these days that is making me want to dig in my heels and just stop time for a few minutes so I can catch my breath, clear my head and my heart and then continue to press on in a way that I can only hope would make James proud.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
MY House
It wasn't long after James and I met and started dating that we moved in together. We were pretty much unofficially living together after 4 months (dang, that was fast!) and officially after six. We first lived in his apartment for a couple of months and when that lease expired moved into a bigger apartment which incidentally is about a mile from where I live now.
In the summer of 2001, we bought our first house, which we lived in for a little over two years before moving to Arizona. It was back to an apartment for 7 months before we bought a cute little house in Gilbert. About a year later, we were unexpectedly able to come home and in October 2005, we moved into our new home, which I was fortunate enough to be able to keep after he passed away.
Like everyone, the downturn of the housing market has affected me and selling would not really be in my best interest at this time. Plus, I love the house even if it really is too big for just me and two dogs who are on the small end of the mid-sized dog scale. And for where my life is right now, it's in a good location. (And we all know the #1 rule of real estate: location, location, location).
I knew interest rates were going down to ridiculous levels which made my 6% rate seem like double digits. But I kept dragging my feet on refinancing. And then I got my annual escrow analysis. And I was short almost an entire year's property taxes which meant my payment was going up about $200/month. Um, excuse me, but WTF? So I called and found out that they paid property taxes as they should have (which I verified with the county), and then did a system upgrade. (First rule of system upgrades in my experience: things go wrong). When they did the upgrade, not all the tax payments carried over and mine was one of them (naturally), so it showed as still needing to be paid. The lady I talked to said she'd request the analysis be rerun-meaning to me they knew there was a problem but weren't going to automatically take steps to correct it unless customers called and complained. My revised analysis showed a shortage of about $600 and an increase of about $50/month. That's much better.
And then I got the letter from my insurance company that my homeowners policy had been cancelled. So I called and found out the renewal premium had not been paid. The agent offered to call my mortgage company and follow up on that, which I thought was probably a good idea. But after I cooled down, I decided I deserved an explanation. I was told they didn't receive a premium statement. So I asked if it was standard procedure to not pay the insurance if they didn't get a statement and was told that typically they just pay the previous year's premium and pay the difference when they know what it was, but in my case for some unknown reason, they just didn't pay anything at all. Awesome.
The next day, I called the bank we use at work and started the re-fi process (which has been an ordeal in and of itself). You don't get to screw up my account that badly and keep my business. Plus, a 3.625% interest rate is MUCH more attractive than 6.0%. Today, about two months after I made that first call, I finally went in and signed the papers so I now re-own my own house (yea!). It's amazing what a pain it is to prove you can pay less per month for the same house for which you are already paying the mortgage.
It was about an hour before I left work to go sign the papers that I realized I have lived in this house for just over 6 years, which other than college is the longest I've lived at one address since graduating from high school (Dad would be so proud-and shocked. He used to tease me that he had a single entry for most people but an entire address book for me). I also realized that I have now lived in this house alone for twice as long (give or take) as I lived in it with James. That was a weird revelation. I wasn't really sure how to feel about that-it's just so surreal. But after the initial shock wore off I actually felt a little empowered by it. It's MY house now. It has been for quite some time but for the first time, I feel it. While I've made a few changes here and there, I don't have to leave anything the way it is. I can do whatever I want to the house with no guilt. I can put in the laminate floors I want, get new kitchen counters and paint every room if I so choose. I've already painted a lot of the upstiars but it wasn't done with the freedom I feel now. And now I just want to change it all up.
It's a good feeling.
In the summer of 2001, we bought our first house, which we lived in for a little over two years before moving to Arizona. It was back to an apartment for 7 months before we bought a cute little house in Gilbert. About a year later, we were unexpectedly able to come home and in October 2005, we moved into our new home, which I was fortunate enough to be able to keep after he passed away.
Like everyone, the downturn of the housing market has affected me and selling would not really be in my best interest at this time. Plus, I love the house even if it really is too big for just me and two dogs who are on the small end of the mid-sized dog scale. And for where my life is right now, it's in a good location. (And we all know the #1 rule of real estate: location, location, location).
I knew interest rates were going down to ridiculous levels which made my 6% rate seem like double digits. But I kept dragging my feet on refinancing. And then I got my annual escrow analysis. And I was short almost an entire year's property taxes which meant my payment was going up about $200/month. Um, excuse me, but WTF? So I called and found out that they paid property taxes as they should have (which I verified with the county), and then did a system upgrade. (First rule of system upgrades in my experience: things go wrong). When they did the upgrade, not all the tax payments carried over and mine was one of them (naturally), so it showed as still needing to be paid. The lady I talked to said she'd request the analysis be rerun-meaning to me they knew there was a problem but weren't going to automatically take steps to correct it unless customers called and complained. My revised analysis showed a shortage of about $600 and an increase of about $50/month. That's much better.
And then I got the letter from my insurance company that my homeowners policy had been cancelled. So I called and found out the renewal premium had not been paid. The agent offered to call my mortgage company and follow up on that, which I thought was probably a good idea. But after I cooled down, I decided I deserved an explanation. I was told they didn't receive a premium statement. So I asked if it was standard procedure to not pay the insurance if they didn't get a statement and was told that typically they just pay the previous year's premium and pay the difference when they know what it was, but in my case for some unknown reason, they just didn't pay anything at all. Awesome.
The next day, I called the bank we use at work and started the re-fi process (which has been an ordeal in and of itself). You don't get to screw up my account that badly and keep my business. Plus, a 3.625% interest rate is MUCH more attractive than 6.0%. Today, about two months after I made that first call, I finally went in and signed the papers so I now re-own my own house (yea!). It's amazing what a pain it is to prove you can pay less per month for the same house for which you are already paying the mortgage.
It was about an hour before I left work to go sign the papers that I realized I have lived in this house for just over 6 years, which other than college is the longest I've lived at one address since graduating from high school (Dad would be so proud-and shocked. He used to tease me that he had a single entry for most people but an entire address book for me). I also realized that I have now lived in this house alone for twice as long (give or take) as I lived in it with James. That was a weird revelation. I wasn't really sure how to feel about that-it's just so surreal. But after the initial shock wore off I actually felt a little empowered by it. It's MY house now. It has been for quite some time but for the first time, I feel it. While I've made a few changes here and there, I don't have to leave anything the way it is. I can do whatever I want to the house with no guilt. I can put in the laminate floors I want, get new kitchen counters and paint every room if I so choose. I've already painted a lot of the upstiars but it wasn't done with the freedom I feel now. And now I just want to change it all up.
It's a good feeling.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Puzzles
This weekend, a friend of mine is coming over to help me purge through my house. Despite having seen my house, I don't think the poor guy knows what he has signed himself up for and I don't know why he is so looking forward to this project-why he even cares. But I have known for a long time it needs to be done and it's too overwhelming when I try to tackle it alone so I'm grateful for the offer. I feel I need to move the past out so the future can move in. Not just my past with James, but my past period. I have things I've been carrying around for far too long that there is simply no reason to continue to hold on to, like my very first purse which I will never use again (though it is from the 80's, so it could be in style again here shortly).
My friend has told me he's going to be a Nazi about the purge process and I get one bye but anything else needs justification in the form of a research paper. Knowing there's a good chance he's serious and that my puzzle collection could be a source of disagreement, I have written the following. No, it's not the scientific research he had in mind; rather, it's research of my heart and soul:
I was five years old when my grandmother gave me my first jigsaw puzzle. As I was younger than the recommended age on the box, my mom wanted to put it away until I was older. Knowing that I was an inquisitive and determined child, however, Grandma did not see any harm in letting me try to put it together.
I wasn’t sure about this at first wondering why Grandma had given me a broken toy. Mom had to show me what this puzzle business was all about-how all the pieces were supposed to fit together to make the picture on the box. I was skeptical but I gave it a shot. Mom was skeptical as well, convinced I would never finish it.
Naturally, I finished the puzzle. And then I took it apart, turned the pieces over and put it together face down. And then I put it together again the correct way. So I was given a second puzzle. Again, I put it together correctly and then face down.
After this, puzzles were a given on my birthday and Christmas wish lists and my collection began to grow, with my preference for those picturing houses and/or boats. We had a spare room in our house in Davenport, and it was not uncommon for me to have one puzzle in progress on the floor of that room or my bedroom and several put together. I like to admire them after they are completed before I tear them apart and put them away. The back room was very cold and drafty (possibly haunted, though that’s another story), however, and my bedroom wasn’t much warmer, so Dad brought home a “puzzle board” for me so I could work on my puzzles in a more heated (but carpeted) part of the house, which I thought was the greatest thing ever. This first and subsequent puzzle boards are more commonly known as plywood-pieces big enough that I could easily fit two 1,000-piece or one 2,500-piece puzzle on-as I got older, so did the piece count of my puzzles as my dad tried to make them more challenging for me. Despite being nothing more than plywood, we always called them puzzle boards.
As I grew older, I never outgrew my love of puzzles. To this day, I am drawn to them like a magnet. If I see one in progress, it is so incredibly hard not to go over and work on it-which not everyone appreciates! Friends and family fully support this habit. My friend and I occasionally get together and catch up while putting one together. She gives me hers when she is done with them. Her mother also picks them up at garage sales for me. It does make me easy to shop for and allows for a little mischief-a few years ago for Christmas, my brother and nephews sent me a three-pack of puzzles in which they mixed all the pieces together. They were pretty distinct and easy to sort out so for my birthday they sent me a 10-pack. Again they mixed all the pieces together, in effect giving me a puzzle with over 7,000 pieces, which I accused James of doing. To this day, I am still not 100% convinced it really was Mike and the boys who did it. This took me a bit longer to sort out. And yes, they have been a source of contention. James’ only complaint was I came with too many puzzles. When we moved back from Arizona, he told me anything that was not unpacked within 6 months was going to be given away. Knowing how he felt about the puzzles, I unpacked them first.
I don’t remember a time in which puzzles were not a part of my life. I love how finding one piece can change the entire look of what’s already been put together. I love the challenge of finding that one piece. I love the calming effect they tend to have on me. I love the sense of completion and satisfaction that comes with snapping in the last piece. I love that no matter how many I do there’s always one waiting-that I will never run out of them. I love that I have this hobby to help me when I need an escape to take my mind off of other things or when I need a distraction so my mind can quietly work out things it is trying to process.
The puzzles stay.
My friend has told me he's going to be a Nazi about the purge process and I get one bye but anything else needs justification in the form of a research paper. Knowing there's a good chance he's serious and that my puzzle collection could be a source of disagreement, I have written the following. No, it's not the scientific research he had in mind; rather, it's research of my heart and soul:
I was five years old when my grandmother gave me my first jigsaw puzzle. As I was younger than the recommended age on the box, my mom wanted to put it away until I was older. Knowing that I was an inquisitive and determined child, however, Grandma did not see any harm in letting me try to put it together.
I wasn’t sure about this at first wondering why Grandma had given me a broken toy. Mom had to show me what this puzzle business was all about-how all the pieces were supposed to fit together to make the picture on the box. I was skeptical but I gave it a shot. Mom was skeptical as well, convinced I would never finish it.
Naturally, I finished the puzzle. And then I took it apart, turned the pieces over and put it together face down. And then I put it together again the correct way. So I was given a second puzzle. Again, I put it together correctly and then face down.
After this, puzzles were a given on my birthday and Christmas wish lists and my collection began to grow, with my preference for those picturing houses and/or boats. We had a spare room in our house in Davenport, and it was not uncommon for me to have one puzzle in progress on the floor of that room or my bedroom and several put together. I like to admire them after they are completed before I tear them apart and put them away. The back room was very cold and drafty (possibly haunted, though that’s another story), however, and my bedroom wasn’t much warmer, so Dad brought home a “puzzle board” for me so I could work on my puzzles in a more heated (but carpeted) part of the house, which I thought was the greatest thing ever. This first and subsequent puzzle boards are more commonly known as plywood-pieces big enough that I could easily fit two 1,000-piece or one 2,500-piece puzzle on-as I got older, so did the piece count of my puzzles as my dad tried to make them more challenging for me. Despite being nothing more than plywood, we always called them puzzle boards.
As I grew older, I never outgrew my love of puzzles. To this day, I am drawn to them like a magnet. If I see one in progress, it is so incredibly hard not to go over and work on it-which not everyone appreciates! Friends and family fully support this habit. My friend and I occasionally get together and catch up while putting one together. She gives me hers when she is done with them. Her mother also picks them up at garage sales for me. It does make me easy to shop for and allows for a little mischief-a few years ago for Christmas, my brother and nephews sent me a three-pack of puzzles in which they mixed all the pieces together. They were pretty distinct and easy to sort out so for my birthday they sent me a 10-pack. Again they mixed all the pieces together, in effect giving me a puzzle with over 7,000 pieces, which I accused James of doing. To this day, I am still not 100% convinced it really was Mike and the boys who did it. This took me a bit longer to sort out. And yes, they have been a source of contention. James’ only complaint was I came with too many puzzles. When we moved back from Arizona, he told me anything that was not unpacked within 6 months was going to be given away. Knowing how he felt about the puzzles, I unpacked them first.
I don’t remember a time in which puzzles were not a part of my life. I love how finding one piece can change the entire look of what’s already been put together. I love the challenge of finding that one piece. I love the calming effect they tend to have on me. I love the sense of completion and satisfaction that comes with snapping in the last piece. I love that no matter how many I do there’s always one waiting-that I will never run out of them. I love that I have this hobby to help me when I need an escape to take my mind off of other things or when I need a distraction so my mind can quietly work out things it is trying to process.
The puzzles stay.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Changes I Wasn't Expecting
Part of the fear I had going into LASIK was I felt it would be a life changing event, though when asked I couldn't exactly say why. I knew the simple aspects of it: no more going to the eye doctor on an annual basis. No more glasses, no more contacts. No more expense that goes with wearing contacts. Being able to see when I open my eyes with no corrective lenses. Being able to go swimming and actually see-I can take water aerobics now! Things like that but nothing that was really earth shattering, other than it was change and I'm not a big fan of change.
So I had it done. And then I got sick. It was just a cold; I'd been fighting it leading up to the procedure so it wasn't really a surprise when it hit full on a few days after. But apparently that wasn't enough because a little over a week after I had LASIK, in addition to the cold, I came down with food poisoning. Or so I thought. But it wouldn't go away. So after 36 hours of throwing up, I went to the doctor (mainly because my co-worker told me too).
I had an instinctive feeling before I left for the doctor so I checked the item that started the throwing up (vegetarian buffalo wings and yes, they were actually pretty good-until I threw them up) and found onions buried deep in the list. I then checked the ingredients of the noodles I'd eaten the next day and also threw up. And found they had onions too. So I told the doctor I was no longer sure it was food poisoning but thought it might be an allergic reaction to onions. I told him I'd had environmental allergy testing but not food and asked to have that done. So he sent me to the lab for blood work and told me to eat bland foods, such as bread and crackers until my stomach could tolerate food again.
So I did what the doctor said but just wasn't getting any better. It was frustrating and getting a little scary wondering why I just wasn't getting over this. I thought that perhaps healing from eye surgery, the cold and whatever was going on with my stomach was too much for my body to handle all at once. And then I got a call from the doctor's office. They had the results of my blood tests: the CBC and the hydration tests came back normal. But something popped on the allergy test: I'm allergic to baker's yeast.
Naturally, the first thing I did was ask if baker's yeast and regular yeast were the same thing. Since the advice nurse didn't know, I looked it up. And found all kinds of contradictory information. For one thing, there are two types of yeast: one that is derived from a fungus and is used in baking to make bread rise. The other is bacterial and grows naturally in our systems. This is the yeast that causes yeast infections. The frustration I'm running into with trying to determine what to eat or not eat with being allergic to yeast is that most sites seem to intertwine the two. What one site says is okay to eat with a yeast allergy is not allowed on another. The only thing that seems consistent is yeast (obviously), vinegar and anything fermented.
Another thing I have read consistently is the symptoms of a yeast allergy are not your "typical" allergy symptoms. They include fatigue, depression, nausea, vomiting and "fog head" - feeling light headed or dizzy. All things I have been experiencing for years and contributed to other things; mainly grief. So now I'm on a quest to find a nutritionist who specializes in food allergies to find out what I can and cannot eat from a credible source.
I kept saying getting LASIK was going to change my life. I never expected to go have my eyes done and come out allergic to food! (Okay, so that's not what happened, just how it came to light). On one hand, this is a pretty odd allergy and as I said, frustrating at this point. On the other hand, I am looking forward to hopefully actually feeling good for the first time in years once I get it under control.
So I had it done. And then I got sick. It was just a cold; I'd been fighting it leading up to the procedure so it wasn't really a surprise when it hit full on a few days after. But apparently that wasn't enough because a little over a week after I had LASIK, in addition to the cold, I came down with food poisoning. Or so I thought. But it wouldn't go away. So after 36 hours of throwing up, I went to the doctor (mainly because my co-worker told me too).
I had an instinctive feeling before I left for the doctor so I checked the item that started the throwing up (vegetarian buffalo wings and yes, they were actually pretty good-until I threw them up) and found onions buried deep in the list. I then checked the ingredients of the noodles I'd eaten the next day and also threw up. And found they had onions too. So I told the doctor I was no longer sure it was food poisoning but thought it might be an allergic reaction to onions. I told him I'd had environmental allergy testing but not food and asked to have that done. So he sent me to the lab for blood work and told me to eat bland foods, such as bread and crackers until my stomach could tolerate food again.
So I did what the doctor said but just wasn't getting any better. It was frustrating and getting a little scary wondering why I just wasn't getting over this. I thought that perhaps healing from eye surgery, the cold and whatever was going on with my stomach was too much for my body to handle all at once. And then I got a call from the doctor's office. They had the results of my blood tests: the CBC and the hydration tests came back normal. But something popped on the allergy test: I'm allergic to baker's yeast.
Naturally, the first thing I did was ask if baker's yeast and regular yeast were the same thing. Since the advice nurse didn't know, I looked it up. And found all kinds of contradictory information. For one thing, there are two types of yeast: one that is derived from a fungus and is used in baking to make bread rise. The other is bacterial and grows naturally in our systems. This is the yeast that causes yeast infections. The frustration I'm running into with trying to determine what to eat or not eat with being allergic to yeast is that most sites seem to intertwine the two. What one site says is okay to eat with a yeast allergy is not allowed on another. The only thing that seems consistent is yeast (obviously), vinegar and anything fermented.
Another thing I have read consistently is the symptoms of a yeast allergy are not your "typical" allergy symptoms. They include fatigue, depression, nausea, vomiting and "fog head" - feeling light headed or dizzy. All things I have been experiencing for years and contributed to other things; mainly grief. So now I'm on a quest to find a nutritionist who specializes in food allergies to find out what I can and cannot eat from a credible source.
I kept saying getting LASIK was going to change my life. I never expected to go have my eyes done and come out allergic to food! (Okay, so that's not what happened, just how it came to light). On one hand, this is a pretty odd allergy and as I said, frustrating at this point. On the other hand, I am looking forward to hopefully actually feeling good for the first time in years once I get it under control.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
I Can See Clearly Now...
On October 7, 1984, my dad married the woman I refer to as "the evil-ex." The ceremony was actually held on the 6th, but they didn't file for the license in time so it was official on the 7th. On October 27th, 1997, I started my job at the local Caterpillar dealership-my second professional job and one that lasted five years. These were both significant events in my life for vastly different reasons: one led to the destruction of my self-worth. The other led me to James.
In 1989, as a freshman in high school, it became apparent I needed glasses. Which I was told I had to pay for myself but was ultimately given as a Valentine's Day gift. Looking back at the pictures, I definitely had the typically 1990's style glasses! In 1995, as a junior in college, I started to wear contacts. For the last 16 years, I have alternated between glasses and contacts, primarily wearing contacts.
James also wore glasses. While I was okay with it, he didn't really want to wear them anymore and looked into LASIK several times, even going as far as to having a consultation. He learned he could have it done but would still need reading glasses so he decided not to go through with it. He encouraged me to look into it as well but other than asking my eye doctor if he thought I'd be a candidate in passing, I never did. I was too afraid. I'd be the one millionth patient in which there was an earthquake that caused a bus to crash into building causing the equipment to malfunction leaving me blind.
So it was a topic that came up but not one I had explored lately. It sort of died when James did. Until recently. It came up at bunco in July-one of my bunco mates was having it done the next day. One of my best friends was subbing for our group that night and she had it done as well. Prior to leaving for Labor Day weekend, I had a conversation with another friend who had also had it done. All three had gone to the same doctor. I also received first a post card and then a voice mail message from my eye doctor that I was due for an appointment. I kept hearing commercials on the radio for LASIK. And, I needed to fill out a new Flex benefit form at work.
Before I knew it, I was texting my two friends mentioned above I was thinking about going in for a consultation to see if I was a candidate. Surprisingly, it was more of the casual friend who was the most excited about this, offering to take me to the appointment if I was in fact a candidate.
On October 7th, I found out that I was in fact, a candidate. There was a part of me that honestly didn't think I would be and I don't know what outcome I actually wanted. I spent the next couple of weeks alternating between numbness, shock and fear. I'm a single woman, living alone with no family in the area, in a two-story house with two dogs that are fully dependent on me. What the HELL was I thinking?? I was planning to do something that could potentially leave me blind-and why wasn't anyone stopping me?? And how could I do this without the one person who was supposed to be by my side for these things?
I realized the fear went deeper than that. I had to have faith. I'm a control freak. I don't do faith. And yet I had to have faith not only that the doctor knew what he was doing, but that the machine wasn't going to fail leaving my blind. And I realized that no, James was not here to hold my hand but someone else had stepped up to be there for me. Someone I didn't ask-he volunteered. And that was perhaps the scariest thing of all: I had to have faith in someone I didn't know if I could trust.
On October 27th, I had LASIK. There were definitely a few moments when I seriously considered not going through with it. To say I was scared is an understatement! I threw up three times that morning. My friend came through for me and was by my side the whole time other than when they wouldn't let him be. He did later confess that he was sure I was going to change my mind, right up until the time they were finished with the procedure. He wasn't the only one-a week later I still can't believe I went through it!
And now I can see without glasses or contacts. The machine didn't fail. There were no earthquakes or bus crashes. There were several friends rooting for me. I could not have done this without their support, especially since when I called my mom to tell her it went well when I didn't hear from her, I learned she forgot about it. Seriously? I don't care how old I am. What parent forgets their child is having a procedure that can potentially leave them blind? Thanks for the support, Mom. But whatever.
The irony of the dates did not escape my notice. I didn't choose them intentionally-it's just the way it worked out. I'm glad I went through with it-that I faced that fear. I'm hoping that doing so will help me find a way to rebuild my confidence. Conquering fear is a pretty amazing thing. So is being able to see a little better than 20/20 without corrective lenses.
In 1989, as a freshman in high school, it became apparent I needed glasses. Which I was told I had to pay for myself but was ultimately given as a Valentine's Day gift. Looking back at the pictures, I definitely had the typically 1990's style glasses! In 1995, as a junior in college, I started to wear contacts. For the last 16 years, I have alternated between glasses and contacts, primarily wearing contacts.
James also wore glasses. While I was okay with it, he didn't really want to wear them anymore and looked into LASIK several times, even going as far as to having a consultation. He learned he could have it done but would still need reading glasses so he decided not to go through with it. He encouraged me to look into it as well but other than asking my eye doctor if he thought I'd be a candidate in passing, I never did. I was too afraid. I'd be the one millionth patient in which there was an earthquake that caused a bus to crash into building causing the equipment to malfunction leaving me blind.
So it was a topic that came up but not one I had explored lately. It sort of died when James did. Until recently. It came up at bunco in July-one of my bunco mates was having it done the next day. One of my best friends was subbing for our group that night and she had it done as well. Prior to leaving for Labor Day weekend, I had a conversation with another friend who had also had it done. All three had gone to the same doctor. I also received first a post card and then a voice mail message from my eye doctor that I was due for an appointment. I kept hearing commercials on the radio for LASIK. And, I needed to fill out a new Flex benefit form at work.
Before I knew it, I was texting my two friends mentioned above I was thinking about going in for a consultation to see if I was a candidate. Surprisingly, it was more of the casual friend who was the most excited about this, offering to take me to the appointment if I was in fact a candidate.
On October 7th, I found out that I was in fact, a candidate. There was a part of me that honestly didn't think I would be and I don't know what outcome I actually wanted. I spent the next couple of weeks alternating between numbness, shock and fear. I'm a single woman, living alone with no family in the area, in a two-story house with two dogs that are fully dependent on me. What the HELL was I thinking?? I was planning to do something that could potentially leave me blind-and why wasn't anyone stopping me?? And how could I do this without the one person who was supposed to be by my side for these things?
I realized the fear went deeper than that. I had to have faith. I'm a control freak. I don't do faith. And yet I had to have faith not only that the doctor knew what he was doing, but that the machine wasn't going to fail leaving my blind. And I realized that no, James was not here to hold my hand but someone else had stepped up to be there for me. Someone I didn't ask-he volunteered. And that was perhaps the scariest thing of all: I had to have faith in someone I didn't know if I could trust.
On October 27th, I had LASIK. There were definitely a few moments when I seriously considered not going through with it. To say I was scared is an understatement! I threw up three times that morning. My friend came through for me and was by my side the whole time other than when they wouldn't let him be. He did later confess that he was sure I was going to change my mind, right up until the time they were finished with the procedure. He wasn't the only one-a week later I still can't believe I went through it!
And now I can see without glasses or contacts. The machine didn't fail. There were no earthquakes or bus crashes. There were several friends rooting for me. I could not have done this without their support, especially since when I called my mom to tell her it went well when I didn't hear from her, I learned she forgot about it. Seriously? I don't care how old I am. What parent forgets their child is having a procedure that can potentially leave them blind? Thanks for the support, Mom. But whatever.
The irony of the dates did not escape my notice. I didn't choose them intentionally-it's just the way it worked out. I'm glad I went through with it-that I faced that fear. I'm hoping that doing so will help me find a way to rebuild my confidence. Conquering fear is a pretty amazing thing. So is being able to see a little better than 20/20 without corrective lenses.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Things to Come?
For the last few months, I have felt like I am on a path of change. I feel good things are coming but at the same time I've been wondering if I am in fact on the correct path. I know that only time will tell what is in store for me. But after hearing about a friend's experience with a reiki master/psychic, I decided to make an appointment to see her as well.
I had Friday off to recover from LASIK so I made the appointment for that afternoon. I was a little early for the appointment so I had time to wonder whether or not I really wanted to know what she was going to say. Perhaps I was better off not knowing. But on the other hand, even if it was something "bad" - meaning something I didn't want to hear, maybe it would be good to know so I could adjust my hopes accordingly.
The first thing she did was take my hands to read my energy. She asked for guidance and than began to sing a song, which she said was my spirit song. The song seemed sad yet somehow soothing at the same time. It brought to mind the image of a young Native American woman sitting on a horse on a ridge overlooking a valley, perhaps in the southwest or the Old West.
When she was finished she told me I had "beautiful energy." She then told me she was seeing an old ox cart pulled by an Asian ox (I didn't know there was a difference, but okay). I was a young Asian girl, approaching a village walking beside the ox down a narrow ("one-lane") road, with rice fields on the side. She got the sense it was Vietnam, pre-war. I wasn't poor, but rather part of the working class. Behind the cart, which was filled with produce, was my father who walked with a slight limp. There was a definite father/daughter bond-the young woman definitely took care of her father.
She said that I had some deep wounds/sores in my heart-that I was carrying a lot of grief. She said there was a hole in my heart-that part of it was blank, like a vaccuum-and that I don't love myself; that I don't feel lovable. She said I am almost at a phase where I will be able to open up and attract a man. She then said there is a strain with my mother. And that I am suited for what I do for a living (accounting) because it is orderly and my life has not always been like that.
She said that my heart doesn't want to be social, so she was surprised to find out how active my life is. My inclination is to stay in, which is true, but at the same time I want to draw someone to me. She then switched gears and said that she doesn't see my job changing in the respect she sees me staying in the field of accounting.
Next she pulled out her Tarot cards. The first card she turned over was the "Burden" card. She said I was not releasing my burdens but was carrying them around with me. That my burdens were emotional rather than mental. She said that it's a good thing I am a realist because anyone I bring in won't be facing the ghost of James. That I can bring in someone new who will also be a soul mate/love of my life and that he will be in my life for a long time.
The next card was "Success." She said I am on the top of my world and riding out my fears. The card shows a man on a tiger; she said the tiger represents fear. I am harnessing being able to sit on my fear and ride it to success and let go of my fear. She said to let go of the fear and to travel the world; that she sees me going to Europe. Incidentally, in Chinese astrology, I am a tiger.
Third was the "Stress" card. She said I'm carrying a great deal of stress and I still feel stressful. She said it could be the residual effects of my eye surgery or it could be that I am afraid that due to James' death, I'm going to crash, but I shouldn't worry because I have "Success" as my anchor.
After "Stress" came "Understanding." This shows birds flying out of a cage. She said it is time to eliminate the cage and understand why I'm free and flying. I need to understand the cage can be either a mental or heart attitude. I also need to understand that the cage to the door is open. The door is always open and I'm on the brink of flying out. Once others see me fly, they will follow and fly with me.
Next was "Celebration." She said this card means that I need to celebrate life with every little bit of life. It means to be alive, don't be afraid and enjoy life to the fullest. She said she could sense that I have been trying to live in the now and it is important to do so. She said not to waste the now with regret and guilt but rather now is the time to move forward.
"Courage" came up next. She said that I've been learning what courage really means. It's about blooming when I shouldn't be and finding light when everything else is dark.
Then came the "Traveling" card. She said this card only comes up when someone is getting ready to go on a trip. My upcoming trip will be a time to let loose and really be me. But, at the same time, it will still be planned and not spontaneous. I will also have the opportunity to take an unexpected trip-either to England, Italy or Greece and I shouldn't be afraid to go on this trip.
After this came the "Possibilities" card. Simply stated, I need to look at things from different viewpoints and not miss out on any possibilities. Following "Possibilities" was "Compromise." Again, simply stated, I don't need to compromise because I can have exactly what I want.
"Politics" is a warning card. I need to stay away from liars. There will be someone in my life with whom not everything is what it seems but I will catch on quickly. The "Guilt" card came up next; I will feel guilty for not believing in the person the "Politics" card pertains to but I shouldn't as they will try to play on that guilt to get their way.
Next up was "Innocence." The counterpart to "Guilt." I need to believe in the innocence of a new relationship and let love in. Then came "Postponement." She said this means I have been postponing life and it is time to move on. My upcoming vacation will be a great way of getting out.
The last card was "Lovers." She said this is about loving myself and finding a lover who loves me. I will have vowed to love myself exclusively and will draw in someone who has done the same. He will also come to me to love himself (although I may not have written that down correctly). He will be the mirror to myself. He's on the way-could be as soon as 2012 but as far out as five years from now. The five year part was a little discouraging!
I'm not sure how I feel about this experience overall. I really do feel change is on the way and I do feel it is positive. I'm not patient and I do wish I had the crystal ball that shows me this all turns out okay. I just have to have faith, which is scary. And I need to keep just focusing on the positive and letting the rest go. And mostly I just need to keep focusing on reminding myself I am a good person who is deserving of the best life has to offer.
I had Friday off to recover from LASIK so I made the appointment for that afternoon. I was a little early for the appointment so I had time to wonder whether or not I really wanted to know what she was going to say. Perhaps I was better off not knowing. But on the other hand, even if it was something "bad" - meaning something I didn't want to hear, maybe it would be good to know so I could adjust my hopes accordingly.
The first thing she did was take my hands to read my energy. She asked for guidance and than began to sing a song, which she said was my spirit song. The song seemed sad yet somehow soothing at the same time. It brought to mind the image of a young Native American woman sitting on a horse on a ridge overlooking a valley, perhaps in the southwest or the Old West.
When she was finished she told me I had "beautiful energy." She then told me she was seeing an old ox cart pulled by an Asian ox (I didn't know there was a difference, but okay). I was a young Asian girl, approaching a village walking beside the ox down a narrow ("one-lane") road, with rice fields on the side. She got the sense it was Vietnam, pre-war. I wasn't poor, but rather part of the working class. Behind the cart, which was filled with produce, was my father who walked with a slight limp. There was a definite father/daughter bond-the young woman definitely took care of her father.
She said that I had some deep wounds/sores in my heart-that I was carrying a lot of grief. She said there was a hole in my heart-that part of it was blank, like a vaccuum-and that I don't love myself; that I don't feel lovable. She said I am almost at a phase where I will be able to open up and attract a man. She then said there is a strain with my mother. And that I am suited for what I do for a living (accounting) because it is orderly and my life has not always been like that.
She said that my heart doesn't want to be social, so she was surprised to find out how active my life is. My inclination is to stay in, which is true, but at the same time I want to draw someone to me. She then switched gears and said that she doesn't see my job changing in the respect she sees me staying in the field of accounting.
Next she pulled out her Tarot cards. The first card she turned over was the "Burden" card. She said I was not releasing my burdens but was carrying them around with me. That my burdens were emotional rather than mental. She said that it's a good thing I am a realist because anyone I bring in won't be facing the ghost of James. That I can bring in someone new who will also be a soul mate/love of my life and that he will be in my life for a long time.
The next card was "Success." She said I am on the top of my world and riding out my fears. The card shows a man on a tiger; she said the tiger represents fear. I am harnessing being able to sit on my fear and ride it to success and let go of my fear. She said to let go of the fear and to travel the world; that she sees me going to Europe. Incidentally, in Chinese astrology, I am a tiger.
Third was the "Stress" card. She said I'm carrying a great deal of stress and I still feel stressful. She said it could be the residual effects of my eye surgery or it could be that I am afraid that due to James' death, I'm going to crash, but I shouldn't worry because I have "Success" as my anchor.
After "Stress" came "Understanding." This shows birds flying out of a cage. She said it is time to eliminate the cage and understand why I'm free and flying. I need to understand the cage can be either a mental or heart attitude. I also need to understand that the cage to the door is open. The door is always open and I'm on the brink of flying out. Once others see me fly, they will follow and fly with me.
Next was "Celebration." She said this card means that I need to celebrate life with every little bit of life. It means to be alive, don't be afraid and enjoy life to the fullest. She said she could sense that I have been trying to live in the now and it is important to do so. She said not to waste the now with regret and guilt but rather now is the time to move forward.
"Courage" came up next. She said that I've been learning what courage really means. It's about blooming when I shouldn't be and finding light when everything else is dark.
Then came the "Traveling" card. She said this card only comes up when someone is getting ready to go on a trip. My upcoming trip will be a time to let loose and really be me. But, at the same time, it will still be planned and not spontaneous. I will also have the opportunity to take an unexpected trip-either to England, Italy or Greece and I shouldn't be afraid to go on this trip.
After this came the "Possibilities" card. Simply stated, I need to look at things from different viewpoints and not miss out on any possibilities. Following "Possibilities" was "Compromise." Again, simply stated, I don't need to compromise because I can have exactly what I want.
"Politics" is a warning card. I need to stay away from liars. There will be someone in my life with whom not everything is what it seems but I will catch on quickly. The "Guilt" card came up next; I will feel guilty for not believing in the person the "Politics" card pertains to but I shouldn't as they will try to play on that guilt to get their way.
Next up was "Innocence." The counterpart to "Guilt." I need to believe in the innocence of a new relationship and let love in. Then came "Postponement." She said this means I have been postponing life and it is time to move on. My upcoming vacation will be a great way of getting out.
The last card was "Lovers." She said this is about loving myself and finding a lover who loves me. I will have vowed to love myself exclusively and will draw in someone who has done the same. He will also come to me to love himself (although I may not have written that down correctly). He will be the mirror to myself. He's on the way-could be as soon as 2012 but as far out as five years from now. The five year part was a little discouraging!
I'm not sure how I feel about this experience overall. I really do feel change is on the way and I do feel it is positive. I'm not patient and I do wish I had the crystal ball that shows me this all turns out okay. I just have to have faith, which is scary. And I need to keep just focusing on the positive and letting the rest go. And mostly I just need to keep focusing on reminding myself I am a good person who is deserving of the best life has to offer.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Turning Point
August 6th marked 3 1/2 years since James passed away. I knew it was coming but it still seemed oddly abstract. How has this much time passed so quickly and at the same time feel like an entire lifetime? I guess the good thing is time is no longer standing still and seems again to be marching forward, as it should.
Something else seemed to happen around this time: I just wanted to be done. I know it doesn't work like that-I can't just say "okay, that's it," and never feel sadness or miss James again. Those days still come though not as frequently as they once did and when they do come, they don't seem to last as long as they did. I've wanted to be done for a long time but this is different. I don't feel that pull to look back like I once did. In fact, I feel the opposite. It sounds heartless but I just want James to be gone.
I don't mean I want the memories or the love or the lessons I learned about myself from being with him and after his death to go away. Far from it. I want the physical reminders to be gone. The things I kept when I first went through his things because they were important to him but that have no real meaning to me. Like his books, which I thought I'd read some day to honor him. The truth is I'm never going to. I'm not a fan of fantasy and I barely make the time to read the books I do enjoy. He is not the things that are still here. He is the memories and the lessons and the love I still keep inside.
I posted the paperbacks that were in good shape on paperbackswap.com. It was hard to mail the first couple but it is getting easier. With each book I mail, I am getting a credit to use to request a book I will read. I found I couldn't break up the hardbacks written by his favorite author and found friends to take them. It was important to me they went to a home that would appreciate them. That's all that has mattered when it comes to donating his things: that they go to someone who appreciates them.
I don't really have a lot of his belongings left and I feel this step is leading me down a path to something-something I can't identify yet but that I feel is good. But at the same time I feel like I am letting go of my security blanket and I don't know what happens when that blanket is gone. When I'm left to truly stand on my own two feet for the first time since I was 25.
I can do this. More importantly, I want to do this.
Something else seemed to happen around this time: I just wanted to be done. I know it doesn't work like that-I can't just say "okay, that's it," and never feel sadness or miss James again. Those days still come though not as frequently as they once did and when they do come, they don't seem to last as long as they did. I've wanted to be done for a long time but this is different. I don't feel that pull to look back like I once did. In fact, I feel the opposite. It sounds heartless but I just want James to be gone.
I don't mean I want the memories or the love or the lessons I learned about myself from being with him and after his death to go away. Far from it. I want the physical reminders to be gone. The things I kept when I first went through his things because they were important to him but that have no real meaning to me. Like his books, which I thought I'd read some day to honor him. The truth is I'm never going to. I'm not a fan of fantasy and I barely make the time to read the books I do enjoy. He is not the things that are still here. He is the memories and the lessons and the love I still keep inside.
I posted the paperbacks that were in good shape on paperbackswap.com. It was hard to mail the first couple but it is getting easier. With each book I mail, I am getting a credit to use to request a book I will read. I found I couldn't break up the hardbacks written by his favorite author and found friends to take them. It was important to me they went to a home that would appreciate them. That's all that has mattered when it comes to donating his things: that they go to someone who appreciates them.
I don't really have a lot of his belongings left and I feel this step is leading me down a path to something-something I can't identify yet but that I feel is good. But at the same time I feel like I am letting go of my security blanket and I don't know what happens when that blanket is gone. When I'm left to truly stand on my own two feet for the first time since I was 25.
I can do this. More importantly, I want to do this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)