Sometimes I Can't Say It, But Disney Can 4/29/14

I can't say certain things.  I have a code that I employ.  Those close to me usually know what I mean, but I avoid the most direct words.  I don't know why,  I should be able to speak clearly about anything.  I enjoy employing the right words to get a message across.  So why am I shut down when it comes to talking about Scott's death and all the things that happen afterward?  I didn't even want to type those words in that last sentence.

Many of you have heard me speak directly, contradicting what I just said.  It does happen.  I try hard.  I act. I pretend that I can say that and move on with the story or conversation at hand.  I fool myself and it works for a while. Other times, I just can't. My voice can't speak "when Scott died", so I say "...with what happened...", usually with a wave of my hand and a sad look on my face.  People understand.  They don't push.  I'm pretty sure people would understand anything, though, so I don't know why I hide.

I hide what I'm doing.  If I say I need to "get some things done", I am probably finally cleaning his clothes out of the chest of drawers and taking them to Goodwill.  If I have a "meeting", I am probably finding out how to transfer assets or close an account (or even a business) by seeing a professional in person or talking on the phone.

I'm trying now, though.  Since I'm starting to be open about the fact that I'm seeing someone (dating, have a boyfriend, in a relationship.....what's it called when you're in your 50s??), I'm really attempting to state the facts. Today, though, Disney made it clear.  You see, there are some Disney movies that, when they are showing, I can play every word of dialogue and every song lyric in my head.  I can do a complete talk and sing-along with these certain few movies.  Today, it was "The Lion King".

It's "Field Day" at school for the the next three days.  During Field Day, a grade level goes outside for their fun races/relays for half of the school day.  Six grade levels, one half day each  = three entire days.  Since the coaches run field day, the 'large group' time happens with me and the art teacher.  All the kids in the grade level, sitting in the gym, watching a movie.  Sounds easy, right?  It is, about eighty percent of the time.  The other twenty percent is filled with the challenge of pre-teens that have attitudes, eight-year-olds that hit each other, or little ones that throw up or bite someone. Today I play imperial ruler and choose which movie will entertain a grade level the best.  I decided that third grade would get "The Lion King".  They needed a powerful movie because they came in all dressed in their colored t-shirts, ready to go for their afternoon of field day.  I was blindly singing along when I sang these words:

"From the day we arrive on the planet

And blinking, step into the sun.

There's more to see than can ever be seen,

more to do than can ever be done.

There's far too much to take in here,

More to find than can ever be found.

But the sun rolling high 

Through the sapphire sky

Keeps great and small on the endless round

It's the Circle of Life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place 

On the path unwinding

It's the Circle,

The Circle of Life"

I'd heard it at least five hundred times before. I've sung along, taught the notes, conducted it in performance. I've even heard it several times since Scott died.  (See what I did there? I'm trying!)  But I heard it differently today because of the progression of events in my life.  Who knew that a cartoon about lions could validate what I was discovering;  that life can move on - from despair to hope?  Quite often though, I find that songs or writings can give me inspiration, validation and a sense of confirmation for what I am feeling.  I think we all do, and that's part of the reason the arts exist.

Moving on doesn't mean we leave our past behind. (Or "your behind in your past" , as Pumbaa says!) Simba didn't want to talk about Mufasa's death, either.  But his friends encouraged him to try to keep enjoying life. "Moving on" is not about forgetting the past;  for me it means finding my place on "the path unwinding".  I have my own personal "Timons and Pumbaas".  Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement to find my place.

Last, but not least, a round of applause for Tim Rice, lyricist, and Disney - well said, my friends.

Double Classes and Holding My Breath 4/17/14

Surprise!  The art teacher is sick today and there's no substitute!  "Of course, I'll take those classes.  No problem."  I mean, what choice is there, really?  Somebody has to take the extra group; I have one and PE already has two.  Simple math, the music teacher takes the extra group.

So today, instead of having my usual thirty darlings, I get to control anywhere from fifty to seventy.  Alone.  I've kind of gotten used to alone. Actually, though, that may be changing.

The last time I had to endure double classes, I wrote about taking a breath.  Taking a breath emotionally and letting the realization of  "who I am now" find the cracks in the wall that let happiness shine through like bright summer sun.  I am a little further along that path now.  A journey continues on a daily basis, does it not?  My itinerary has been busy lately.

I have seen the sunshine of happiness and I am now traveling a road of healing.  the care, attention and understanding given to me by Robbie have helped me wake up and realize that joy can be re-discovered in the aftermath of sorrow.  Robbie is traveling the same road, so when we need to take a break and sit on a bench for a while....we do.

Today, although I'm having to monitor double classes, I'm holding my breath - in anticipation.  Robbie, who has kindly traveled the miles to visit me twice already, is visiting again this weekend.  Although we talk very often, it's so much nicer in person. I'm anticipating laughter, serious talk, fun, a little sadness, but mostly a wonderful time.

Even though I had twice the students I usually do today...on the day before a holiday...I can smile on the inside and know that there's someone to listen to me talk about it when I get home. I may be alone in the classroom, but no longer in my spirit. What a difference.  Robbie and I acknowledge our respective tragic pasts and are seeking a happier future.  The sad chapters in our story have come to a close, and some happy chapters are being written.  So talk on, big groups of kids.  I'll hold my breath until 4:00 and enjoy the weekend.

The Volcano vs. The Timeline - My Messy Beautiful

The Volcano vs. The Timeline

We think in numbers and time.  We earn salaries, go shopping, pay bills and buy houses.  We state our age, our graduation date, how long we've lived somewhere, and how old our dogs are in "dog-years".  I truly believe we cling to numbers and time because they are concrete.  They can't fade or morph from one fact to another. With our clingy-ness to numbers, though, comes human expectations.  "If I make so much, I'll be happy at last."  "Once this child is five, parenting will be a breeze!"  (Or potty-trained, or in school, or out of braces, or driving.......on and on.) "When a whole year has passed, I'll feel better!"  My mind tells me that last one again and again - that I need to physically push time ahead to get past the one-year anniversary of my husband's death to start feeling better and moving on.

Only guess what?  Feelings don't happen in number or time order. Feelings are the mercury you spilled (on purpose) on the science lab table in high school just to watch how randomly it squirmed and propelled itself around. Feelings do not follow the number-line or the timeline.  That is why recovery has been so messy and beautiful.  Grief recovery is messy because I don't know which feelings will rise to the surface on any given day or even moment.  Grief recovery is beautiful because - somewhere in there - there is recovery.

My first true feelings when I realized that my husband would not recover and wake up from that heart attack were nothing but fear.  I think I said over and over "What will I do?"  It took weeks and months of sorting, filing, notifying, phone calling, visiting, etc. etc., to get to the place I'm at now.  By place, I mean the numbers place.  The cost, the income, the security.  I actually am in an okay place as far as that goes.  The fear still attacks every now and then, though. And that is what is Messy, Beautiful about my journey.  I had a BEFORE and now I have an AFTER.  BEFORE was still regular life.  So happy together, but with the usual disappointments at work, challenges with children, unexpected expenses that threw us for a loop.  AFTER is a volcano.  AFTER left me with a fighter's attitude that was totally in conflict with the curled-in-fetal-position mourning widow that I thought I should have been.

 I plunged right back into work, opportunities, vacations:  in other words, life.  I had to learn that the volcano could explode whenever it wanted.  When my elementary choir sang "Keep Your Head Up", and one asked me afterward "Mrs. McCarty, were you crying because we sang so pretty?".  Yes, sweetie, of course.  You're too young to know about the volcano.  When I clicked on the wrong button on the computer screen during a training session, lost someone else's work in the process, and broke out sobbing so hard I had to leave the room to recover: explosions.

 Some have been big, some small.  Some have been predictable, some completely out of the blue.  I like an agenda.  I like a schedule.  (I also liked to check off what had happened on the church bulletin with the little pew pencil when I was young.  Keep everything in order!!) So the randomness of AFTER has left me searching for order.

I started writing to find order.  I wrote about the fear, the fighter's attitude vs. the public perception of who I should be.  I wrote about feeling happy when I shouldn't.  I wrote about feeling as if I would be alone forever.  I wrote funny things the kiddos at school said and did - I wasn't even scared to tell about the third grade girl that told me I had hair on my toes!  I also went online to understand grief.  Surely if this happens to unsuspecting humans every day, there must be some rhyme or reason as to how to control the volcano!  I joined a grief forum specific to loss of spouses.  The writing and the forum then joined hands to shake the volcano even more.

A man on the forum followed a link to my writings and read every single one of them. Then he messaged me.  Then we started talking on the phone (in spite of the fact that I wrote what I did about my toes)!  "WAIT!!"  screamed my sense of order and propriety.  "It hasn't been a year!!"  My logical self wanted the numbers and time in order.  My old-fashioned self wanted to make sure I did nothing wrong or unseemly.  The volcano, however, does its own thing.

We actually met in person a few weeks ago, and it was beautiful. We met again two weeks later and it's even more beautiful. In our case, the beautiful makes it messy.   It's messy because we don't live in the same place, and we have both recently lost spouses. If we hadn't liked each other, (beautiful) it wouldn't be as difficult (messy).

I can say this, though:  If mercury belongs to nature and can take that unexpected little dart across the table, then why can't human feelings?  He and I will find out; we're going to see each other again.  Sometimes you just have to let the volcano do its thing and blow up the timeline.


This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!

                               

Help-books and Fun-books....

Just today, I stumbled across the fact that there are actually books out there meant to help people like me. Help-books. Not being much of a non-fiction reader, this fact did not surprise me as much as the number of them available.  The funny part is, I've thought and planned to turn these blog posts into a book, in case they could help someone else that is grieving.  I just didn't know that lots of people have already done that! I'm not sure whether any of them have the plot twist of meeting someone new so soon, as I have. I'm trying to record and remember all the feelings that go with along with it - don't know if any of those other books do that!  I should probably read them all and find out!

Do these books give advice? I think some do. They are meant to be Help-books.  I did peruse one at Barnes and Noble one evening.  It had chapters on everything from immediately after your spouse's death to a chapter called "Widows and Sex".  I did not buy it - I did what anybody would do, looked at the 'good' parts and put it back down.  I didn't really learn anything new or groundbreaking, so you will get no details from me!

I feel a little guilty, though, that I've done all this writing and not read what others have said before me. (I generally feel guilty about most everything, no surprise there!) I've read little bits, just not books.  A blog post is about the right length for my concentration these days. I started reading a John Grisham book that a friend lent me in January.  To me, that's a Fun-book.  It's April and I'm on page 72.  I'm only able to sit for so long until thoughts and ideas flood my brain and I have to just get up and do something.  Sometimes the something is writing down the thoughts.  Sometimes it's cleaning out a drawer.  You never know.

I jump up, do whatever it is I feel needs "doing", and move on to the next thing.  I don't go back to the book. That is not the person I used to be, when a Fun-book could devour my days and nights until I finished it. Readers are a special breed of people.  The list of things we can ignore while immersed in a book can include family, friends, pets, hunger, chores....on and on.  I am one of those, usually, just not lately.

 I did research and read Help-stuff.  Not books. Thank goodness there are web pages and support forums out there that I could read in a 'drive-by' style. They did help, a bit.  But what helped mostly was sitting here and organizing what I was feeling into sentences, paragraphs and full posts.  I've been pretty honest about what I've been feeling for the last eleven months.  I want to remain true to form, just because everyone has been so loving, supportive and encouraging.  Writing these little posts has been my therapy, my meditation, my crutch, punching bag and wailing wall. I think writing took the place of immersion in Fun-books.

I don't think I'll read the other Help-books.  I am moving forward on my own. Well, mostly on my own.  My boyfriend has been through the same loss, so I have a new sounding board; one that has been there.  Perhaps, though, I'll just keep writing in case this one turns into a Help-book itself.  It would be a privilege to help anyone.  Anyone at all.  It's also non-fiction, so I probably wouldn't read it, but that's all right; I'm living a non-fiction life right now and it's turning into a story that I wouldn't put down!

Are you entertaining? 4/1/14 (not an April fool!)

It was the cutest question ever.  I'm a sucker for the old-fashioned phrases anyway, but this one just made me giggle, blush and think "Oh, how cute!" at the same time.  There is this adorable, very stylish, Southern LADY (capitals on purpose!) at my workplace.  She is a source of inspiration to me because her charm and happy attitude never falter.  She also went through losing her husband suddenly - but is now happily re-married.

I asked her, shortly after I started talking to someone, how soon after her husband died she started dating, or met her second husband.  I was trying to sort through my own feelings of stepping into any kind of involvement, especially when a year had not passed. (Her answer was more proper than my situation, so I just tucked that knowledge away and carried on!)  I just get the feeling that if I do something too quickly or without seeming to show proper respect, that everyone will pass judgement.  Maybe I've watched too much "Gone With the Wind", but this is what my mind sees when people ask a question and I answer honestly:

So instead, I drop hints or keep quiet.  If you read this, then you know - but there are very few of you, to tell the truth.  I'm not sure some of my relatives even read it!  It's a fact I can share now, though; I'm dating.  He lost his special someone, too, so we have that in common.  I didn't search for him, he searched for me.  I feel like a character from a book because things have been so coincidental and magical.  It's early days right now, but it's very nice.

I thought I was keeping things to myself and a few close friends, until the cute question today.  Precious Southern lady came into the workroom for lunch, and started looking around while her food was heating in the microwave.  "I just love to look at what everybody brings for lunch!" she drawled.  Focusing on my little dish:  "Oooh, you made a pot roast?  For just you?"  I blushed, and just shook my head 'no'.  She then whisper-exclaimed (oh, so properly...) "Oh my goodness, are you entertaining?"  I nodded, laughing, while she gave me a big hug.  "I'm so glad to hear that, good for you!"   I could only agree.  Please don't faint like Aunt Pittypat.....please just accept the notion that I might be "entertaining" and it might be making me happier than I have been in a long time!