I blogged the entire seven months from my mom's cancer diagnosis to her death. I blogged so much, I actually printed it all up and turned it into a 450 page book for me to keep it all. I look back on all of that and can remember the pain and now can see all the growth. It was cathartic for me while blogging and is still cathartic for me to read it today. I won't have 450 pages worth of blogging for my dad. For all I know, this may be the only blog about my dad dying. I don't know. All I know is that tonight I need to get some stuff out of my head. And this is the way that comes naturally for me to do that.
My dad is dying.
It needs to be said. Until today, I think I had a sliver of hope that I was wrong. But today, I feel strongly that he is dying.
It's odd. With my mom I had seven months to come to terms with her death. I won't get that with my dad. Of course, Parkinson's has taken so much from him, but I could still sit with him and chat and we could laugh and tell stories. But he's gone now. I mean, he's physically still there, but looking into his eyes tells me he is gone. And I miss him already.
Just two weeks ago, he was playing bingo and socializing. And then it all changed. I got a call on a Saturday saying he'd had a big fall and he wasn't acting normally. There was concern over a brain bleed. So, I took him to the ER. He was diagnosed as being in almost full renal failure. The ER doc's exact words (after several hours and tests in the ER) were, "Well, your dad is in almost full renal failure. Does he have a DNR?" ~ Sigh ~
Dad stayed in the hospital for three days. He's generally not very lucid in the hospital and this was no different. His kidneys cleared up and he was released. My hope was that getting him home would clear him up. Turns out that wasn't to be the case. He has steadily declined since. Hospice took over this past Monday. Hospice. How I love them. And how I hate that they're in my life again.
The last two weeks are what I call a very special kind of hell that you can only understand if you've been here. The hell where one day your loved one seems like they may be improving and you get hope and then the next day is followed by a terrible day. And the terrible days become more common. You lose hope, you gain hope, you lose it again, you gain it and then you lose it. Over and over. I'm not equipped for this. I catch my heart beating out of my chest at times. My arms go numb. Panic creeps up. Am I doing enough? Am I doing the right things? Could I do more? Oh my gosh, my dad is dying. I can't breathe. And around and around and around I go. I can't digest food. My stomach makes incredibly loud noises as though something is alive in there. It's angry. My adrenals are clearly in trouble and affecting every other part of me. I sleep, but I wake up tired every day, so it's clearly not restful sleep. Every day is another day of wondering and waiting and worrying. Thank goodness for work that I love that provides me with a distraction now and then. I'm much better at helping others than helping myself (I'm a work in progress...).
I really believed that losing my dad would be easier than losing my mom. I get death now. I didn't understand it when my mom was dying. But it anointed me then. I took up its cause. I carry its torch. I am friends with death. Or so I thought. I kind of feel my friend stabbed me in the back when I wasn't looking. I feel unprepared, confused and lost. I hurt in a way I didn't know I could hurt. It occurred to me that when my mom was dying, I had my dad there. He took care of mom and I took care of him (well, I took care of mom too, but mostly, I really took care of dad). But I don't have that now. There is no other parent to make the decisions. It's me. And the decisions are big. I know what my dad wanted. But it's still hard to say what needs to be said and do what needs to be done.
I'm going to be an orphan.
Sure, I'm 46. Sure, I've been my dad's caregiver for the past several years and we didn't have the same parent/child relationship. But he's still my dad. And he's still here. And soon, he won't be. And I'll be living in a world without parents. Of course, I knew that this would happen one day. But suddenly I feel like I'm 10 and it's dark and I'm scared. And I want my parents to protect me. But they can't anymore.
Last November, at the Thanksgiving dinner table, dad looked at me and said, "I want Michael to write my eulogy so I can hear it." Gulp. Okay. So, I texted Michael to let him know. Let's just say he wasn't all that excited about the prospect. But he's been working on that eulogy for the past year. And this week he finished it. And yesterday, I told dad it was done and his eyes lit up for the first time in a long time and he said, "He did?" After clearing it with Michael, I asked him if he wanted to hear it. And he said he did. So I read dad his eulogy. Few people get to hear their own eulogy. It was the most emotional, incredible experience I may have ever had in my life. And something I will never, ever forget as long as I live. I couldn't get through it without tears, but by the end, the tears were flowing freely by my dad and his caregiver too. All dad could say was "Thank you. Thank you." It was a gift from my brother that I was able to deliver to my dad. You'll all have to come to the memorial service to hear it yourselves. It's an incredible tribute to an amazing man.
Today, I wrote a letter to all his caregivers explaining that it's time we all let dad do what he needs to do. We don't need to force him to eat or be up or do anything he doesn't want to do really. Be merciful. Let him die well. Give him a good death. And it felt good to write it. To really stand up for my dad and what he wants. Of course, we all want him to live. But we have no power over that and it is clear his body is done. And the one thing I DO know... we can't stop this. We can't fight it. We have to surrender.
Surrender. There it is again.
It's what life is all about, isn't it? Surrendering to what is.
His caregivers needed me to say it. I'm the daughter. I have to make that call. So, I did it.
This is HARD. HARD <----- Just like that. In all caps. At the same time, I have been given a unique opportunity to practice what I preach. I'm the gerontologist...the grief counselor...the death midwife. This is my world. And I know ALL the stuff. And I know I MUST take care of myself. So, I am doing that to the best of my ability. But I also know I MUST speak. This is my passion. We have to speak about death. We can't experience it in silence. So I'm speaking. Because I am all the things above. But in this instance, I am a daughter who is losing her father. The end. The hospice nurse told me I have to forget all I know and just be the daughter. She's right. But I will speak. I won't be silent. I will share my pain. Because it's real. It's raw. It's mine. But I am far from the only one to grieve. And I absolutely believe we have to share our pain to help others. So others know that this kind of pain is survivable. Because I know it is. But I have to walk it...again. I have to take step-by-step over those burning hot coals. Just like I did with my mom.
And I will. I will take one step at a time. I will feel the grief. I will feel the loss. I will feel the pain. As much as I don't want to.
Because death anointed me. It is always with me. And as much as I feel somewhat betrayed right now, I also know that death's hand is on my shoulder in an odd sort of comfort. It believes in me. It knows I can do this. It knows I have lessons to learn and lessons to teach.
So, another fall arrives. The leaves turn. The days shorten. And I am losing another parent. Fall will turn to winter and the days may be dark. But spring always arrives. The sun always comes out again. And life goes on. It will be different. It will be odd to live in a parent-less world. But I will survive. I will continue to bloom.
For now...I visit with my dad, I work, I spend time with my children and my husband, I reach out and experience the amazing support of my friends and family, I speak, I breathe, I feel, I hurt, I cry, I live.
One day...one moment...at a time.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Discoveries
Olly and I put a lot of thoughts into our tattoos. I knew I wanted mine on my foot. And everyone warned me that it's a rough place to get a tattoo. But I didn't find it to be too bad. And by Saturday night, there wasn't any pain at all.
Being a tattoo virgin, of course the pain was the thing I was most concerned about prior to getting the tattoo. What I wasn't aware of was that I was about to be initiated into a private club I didn't know existed.
I've never been judgmental about tattoos. I've often though they were amazing on people, but I never saw myself getting one until fairly recently. Olly and I started talking about it a while back. Sort of jokingly at first and then it became more serious and then this year, we made a deal that we were going to get them on our annibirthary weekend away. We did our research and our planning. We spent hours with the tattoo artist in Port Townsend back in March designing our tattoos. So, we had a pretty awesome build up to this thing. Probably too much.
By the time Saturday came, I wasn't really sure I was going to go through with it. I really wondered if I could do it. We sat there for another two hours while Olly finished up the design of his tattoo which gave me even more time to be nervous. Finally, when the tattoo artist asked who was going first, I knew it had to be me. I don't know why....I just knew it did. It was a good move though because I think if I had gone second, I wouldn't have done it after watching Olly get his. For the record, the spine is clearly way more intense of a place to get a tattoo than the foot!
Now, let me take a second to remark upon the professionalism of this particular tattoo artist. His space was SO clean and I watched him prep for both mine and Olly's tattoos and it was meticulous. The tattoo artist also made it clear that he wouldn't tattoo anyone who had been drinking. He was pure class (and talent) and it was clear we had chosen our artist well.
As I sat on the chair and got my foot set up, I took a deep breath and realized I was actually going to do this. I didn't have the guts to run from the shop at that point so the only other option was to do this thing. The tattoo artist asked if I was ready...I said I guessed so....and then it began. And I was shockingly surprised at how little it hurt at the start. Now...to go back to our amazing artist...I swear he knows exactly what he's doing as he started on the most painful spot for both Olly and me. For me...that was the bone near my big toe. Things were a little more intense there and then it was over and he moved down the rest of my foot which seemed much more bearable after that.
Certainly there were moments....my leg kept twitching so I asked Olly to push on my knee for a decent amount of time. That helped immensely. He was my tattoo doula (and in turn, I was his). I spent some time experimenting on whether I preferred to watch or not watch. I don't think I ended up with a preference. Although after watching Olly get his on his back, I think I prefer having the option to at least look when I want to. :) I practiced a lot of my own pain coping techniques that I teach in childbirth classes and Olly even cued me at one point which surprised me and made me realize he actually DOES listen to me when I talk now and then. :)
The very last letter....the capital E....was probably the most intense part. But then, it was over. And I had a tattoo. And as odd as this may sound, I felt like a whole new part of me opened up. Very similarly to giving birth. Perhaps not quite as profound....but noticeable nonetheless. I don't think there's really any way to describe except to say I felt pretty damn awesome....and sort of like a bad ass....yep...even with my one little 45 minute tattoo.
I also learned that tattoo artists are therapists in a very real sense. Spending several hours with a tattoo artist allows time for stories to be told and some of them are fascinating. And this particular artist truly understands his part in these life stories. He understands that his mark will be one a person's body for the rest of their life. He understands the emotion behind the tattoo. And he honors it in his own unique way.
And my connection with Olly feels different too. This was something we did together. Our tattoos also are a reflection of our relationship in our own ways. This man pushes me out of my comfort zone. He challenges me. And I have learned over the last ten years that I can be myself with him. He sees me in all my vulnerabilities and he loves me anyway. I have ALWAYS said that you would never see me getting a tattoo of someone's name on me. And although I didn't do that, there is certainly a reference to Olly in my tattoo. And that also feels like perfection.
Two weeks ago, I changed my hair color...and I added the purple I've been wanting to add for some time. This weekend, I got a tattoo. And I finally am feeling that here, at 46, I'm starting to become true to myself. I'm truly starting to feel that I can do whatever I want and it doesn't matter what other people think of it. And all of this may seem ridiculously simple to some of you. But I grew up with a very strong sense of what was "acceptable" behavior and what was not. And I have carried that around my entire life. I learned that it was important to make decisions based on what others would feel about it. That is a rough lesson to carry around. And here, FINALLY, easily in mid-life, I am finding ME. What I want. What feels good to ME. And that feels so AWESOME!
And now I have a forever reminder of one of the most important lessons in life for me.
Yes....yes it will. :)
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Forty Six
Forty Six. 46. Good Lord, where in the world did 46 years go?
I remember when I thought 30 was old.
But here I am. 46. I remember when I was 16 and my mom was 48 and I thought she was SO OLD.
And I still feel so young.
And at the same time, my body is definitely letting me know we're not 16...or 28...or even 35 anymore. There are more creaks and groans these days. And yet, I think I feel better today than I ever have in my life. I'm coming to terms with this body of mine. I no longer am angry at it for carrying extra weight. I don't mind the laugh lines on my face or the age spots appearing on my hands. I like 46. My mom told me once that her 50s were her favorite decade. I can see that. I'm not afraid of my age anymore. Clearly, shown by the picture above, I will wear it proudly today.
This body can do a 2 minute plank. It can effortlessly move through Warrior I,II&III on each side and hold the poses easily for a minute. This body can bend and touch my fingers to my toes without bending my knees. This body can do squats and lunges and lift weights and can spin a hula hoop like nobody's business. :) This body has weathered storms and has emerged from them stronger than ever.
This heart of mine has been broken into little tiny pieces over it's 46 years. And it has pieced itself back together every time. It has also loved and been loved deeply. Over it's 46 years, this heart has been told that it's too sensitive, but it now knows that it is perfect, and kind, and open, and believes in the goodness of people and is totally cool with itself.
There are moments when it's sad to think that the two people responsible for giving me life can't truly celebrate with me. This is my 6th birthday without my mom and I'm not sure if dad really remembers it's my birthday. But that is all part of life as well. And today I'll spend the day with my kids and know the days of them being home and hanging out with me on my birthday are limited too.
The greater my age gets, the more I seem to appreciate life and the little things. And the more I want to celebrate each passing birthday. We only get so many. It's important to mark them and honor each year lived.
And so that's what I will do today. Celebrate Me! That's been a foreign idea in the past, but no more. I'm proud of this life I've lived. Every accomplishment, every loss, every mistake has made me who I am. Every line on my face tells a story. And it's been a pretty amazing story so far. Time to begin the next chapter. :)
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Time Marches On
Here I sit on a quiet, rainy, Saturday morning....just me and three cats. I've got the washing machine going and the back door open so I can listen to the rain fall mainly because, I realized this morning, that silence makes me crazy.
And how crazy is that?
Sixteen years ago...heck...probably just six or seven years ago, I would have likely paid money for a little silence. But the noise is all I know now. Even though it's different noise these days. It's all in deep teenage boy voices and there is certainly more silence even when the kids are around. But there's activity. The house is alive.
These days when I am alone are still very few and far between. And certainly, I'd be lying if I said that I don't enjoy being able to do whatever I want without having to stop to attend to someone's needs. Nonetheless, I still don't do the silence well. And in these moments is when the reality of my life hits me hard. Jonathan is 16 1/2 today. That means in 18 months, he'll be 18. Eighteen short little months. I remember how quickly he turned 18 months old after he was born...okay...that first year seemed like it drug on forever, but looking back, it was all a blink of an eye. I know these next 18 months are going to go even faster. And I don't know how this happened. I don't know how they grew up so fast. Christopher is almost even with me in height and once he outgrows me, I'll officially be the shortest person in my house. After spending my entire life being a tall girl, it's weird to think I'm going to be the short one.
And life is funny like that. Things you may not have liked at one time become things you covet.
Those little boys who stood on the floor with their arms in the air constantly wanting to be picked up are now both almost bigger than me.
How I remember just wanting to go to the bathroom alone. I vividly remember nursing and peeing more times than I want to admit because I simply couldn't hold it anymore and I was avoiding a tantrum. Now, I could probably sit alone in the bathroom all day and the boys wouldn't even notice until they hungry. Which no longer involves my breasts by the way...which I'm sure you weren't even thinking even though SO many people told me they'd be nursing well into their teenage years when they were nursing at 3 years old. Yeah...show me that teenage boy. Mine don't even want to acknowledge I have breasts. Any discussion of their nursing days makes them bolt from the room. ;)
The long nights of little to no sleep have been replaced with kids who sleep soundly for hours and hours and hours. I never could have imagined that one day I would say I kind of miss those quiet nights, just me and a nursing baby in my arms. I often tell the story of a particularly long night with Jonathan when he was about 6 months old. I was tired and cranky and frustrated (and so was he). I looked out the venetian blinds on the front window and every other house was dark in the cul-de-sac and I felt like the only human being awake. I.Just.Wanted.Sleep. And then I swear I heard a voice. It's as clear today as it was then. Call it what you will...God, Buddha, Spirit, the Universe...whatever you believe in...but that voice whispered to me..."Breathe. 16 years from now, you'll still be peeking out those blinds at Midnight, but you'll looking for headlights, waiting for this boy to come home." And that message stopped me in my tracks. And I sat down. I snuggled Jonathan in tightly. And I breathed. In THAT moment, he was safe in my arms. And I relaxed and we both fell asleep. And now...today...it is 16 years later. Thankfully, I haven't had a night of waiting for him to come home...but he's slipping further and further out of my fingers every day. I can't protect him from everything anymore. And our relationship is quite largely about me letting him go.
Ahhhh...the quiet makes me reflect. And although I love reflection...it also makes me crazy. Time marches on. We have our ups and our downs, but life is fluid. It is ever changing and all we can do is ride the waves. 6 years ago, my mom had just been diagnosed with cancer and the following 7 months were a whirlwind of ups and downs and then she was gone. I had no idea how to walk in this world without my mom. And yet...look at me...I've done it. And in a big way. :)
So...today...I'll get in a nice long workout...and maybe do some cleaning of the house. I'll track Olly's long flight home and possibly force myself to relax...even though that feels like work to me.
For now, I'll finish my cup of coffee, listen to the rain fall and experience THIS moment and try not to think about how fast that march through life seems to go.
And how crazy is that?
Sixteen years ago...heck...probably just six or seven years ago, I would have likely paid money for a little silence. But the noise is all I know now. Even though it's different noise these days. It's all in deep teenage boy voices and there is certainly more silence even when the kids are around. But there's activity. The house is alive.
These days when I am alone are still very few and far between. And certainly, I'd be lying if I said that I don't enjoy being able to do whatever I want without having to stop to attend to someone's needs. Nonetheless, I still don't do the silence well. And in these moments is when the reality of my life hits me hard. Jonathan is 16 1/2 today. That means in 18 months, he'll be 18. Eighteen short little months. I remember how quickly he turned 18 months old after he was born...okay...that first year seemed like it drug on forever, but looking back, it was all a blink of an eye. I know these next 18 months are going to go even faster. And I don't know how this happened. I don't know how they grew up so fast. Christopher is almost even with me in height and once he outgrows me, I'll officially be the shortest person in my house. After spending my entire life being a tall girl, it's weird to think I'm going to be the short one.
And life is funny like that. Things you may not have liked at one time become things you covet.
Those little boys who stood on the floor with their arms in the air constantly wanting to be picked up are now both almost bigger than me.
How I remember just wanting to go to the bathroom alone. I vividly remember nursing and peeing more times than I want to admit because I simply couldn't hold it anymore and I was avoiding a tantrum. Now, I could probably sit alone in the bathroom all day and the boys wouldn't even notice until they hungry. Which no longer involves my breasts by the way...which I'm sure you weren't even thinking even though SO many people told me they'd be nursing well into their teenage years when they were nursing at 3 years old. Yeah...show me that teenage boy. Mine don't even want to acknowledge I have breasts. Any discussion of their nursing days makes them bolt from the room. ;)
The long nights of little to no sleep have been replaced with kids who sleep soundly for hours and hours and hours. I never could have imagined that one day I would say I kind of miss those quiet nights, just me and a nursing baby in my arms. I often tell the story of a particularly long night with Jonathan when he was about 6 months old. I was tired and cranky and frustrated (and so was he). I looked out the venetian blinds on the front window and every other house was dark in the cul-de-sac and I felt like the only human being awake. I.Just.Wanted.Sleep. And then I swear I heard a voice. It's as clear today as it was then. Call it what you will...God, Buddha, Spirit, the Universe...whatever you believe in...but that voice whispered to me..."Breathe. 16 years from now, you'll still be peeking out those blinds at Midnight, but you'll looking for headlights, waiting for this boy to come home." And that message stopped me in my tracks. And I sat down. I snuggled Jonathan in tightly. And I breathed. In THAT moment, he was safe in my arms. And I relaxed and we both fell asleep. And now...today...it is 16 years later. Thankfully, I haven't had a night of waiting for him to come home...but he's slipping further and further out of my fingers every day. I can't protect him from everything anymore. And our relationship is quite largely about me letting him go.
Ahhhh...the quiet makes me reflect. And although I love reflection...it also makes me crazy. Time marches on. We have our ups and our downs, but life is fluid. It is ever changing and all we can do is ride the waves. 6 years ago, my mom had just been diagnosed with cancer and the following 7 months were a whirlwind of ups and downs and then she was gone. I had no idea how to walk in this world without my mom. And yet...look at me...I've done it. And in a big way. :)
So...today...I'll get in a nice long workout...and maybe do some cleaning of the house. I'll track Olly's long flight home and possibly force myself to relax...even though that feels like work to me.
For now, I'll finish my cup of coffee, listen to the rain fall and experience THIS moment and try not to think about how fast that march through life seems to go.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Reflections
So, here it is...the day after our trip. I DID IT! I flew both ways and I lived. ;) Okay...I was "pretty" sure I was going to live, but there were definitely moments when I kinda wasn't.
Quick thoughts on the SOAR program. I do feel as though it worked for me. These two flights were significantly different than the four flights we took back in October of 2012. I still wouldn't say that I like flying...but there weren't as many tears shed this time around. And most that were shed were in the terminal, before the flight...instead of on the plane. And really, the only tears shed on the plane were because people were being so nice to me and it touched my heart. And really...that's what I think is what I learned the most on this trip...but I'll get to that in a minute.
I believe the entire SOAR program worked for me. It helped me understand how planes work and that was HUGE for me on the flights. Takeoffs and landings are still not enjoyable for me, but I understand how it all works better now. Turbulence is also still not enjoyable, but I also understand it. I repeated to myself often, "Turbulence is not a problem for a plane, it's only a problem for the passengers". I also used the exercises in the program quite often to ground myself and bring myself back to NOW instead of letting my very awesome anxiety tell the amazing stories it knows how to tell. And I did not have ONE panic attack. I thought I was getting close at one point, but was able to stop it in its tracks.
The day after we returned from North Carolina 2 1/2 years ago, I was NEVER getting on a plane again. I don't feel that way right now and that's what is really important to me. Again...I don't "like" flying (yet)...and yes...I still sat on the plane in one position with my legs shaking most the flight home, but that was in great part to it being dark and me losing my bearings...I wasn't quite as prepared for that as I would have liked. BUT...I still feel like I could get on a plane again. And for me...that is HUGE. It changes my life really. It opens up a world that I couldn't even imagine before. And it's a start. I still have a LOT of work to do. But I'm ahead of where I was after my last flight. :)
And so, I feel the program was worth all the time and money. However, I am also going to say that I had the absolute best support system ever for this trip. And for me...that was a vital aspect of my emotional survival. The SOAR program prepared me...my friends and my team of support "doula-ed" me through it. And I need to address all that.
The Alaska Airlines staff was INCREDIBLE. There's no other way to describe it. I met the pilots both ways and the pilot on the way home went WAY above and beyond and boarded me first and took me into the cockpit. Here's proof:
Quick thoughts on the SOAR program. I do feel as though it worked for me. These two flights were significantly different than the four flights we took back in October of 2012. I still wouldn't say that I like flying...but there weren't as many tears shed this time around. And most that were shed were in the terminal, before the flight...instead of on the plane. And really, the only tears shed on the plane were because people were being so nice to me and it touched my heart. And really...that's what I think is what I learned the most on this trip...but I'll get to that in a minute.
I believe the entire SOAR program worked for me. It helped me understand how planes work and that was HUGE for me on the flights. Takeoffs and landings are still not enjoyable for me, but I understand how it all works better now. Turbulence is also still not enjoyable, but I also understand it. I repeated to myself often, "Turbulence is not a problem for a plane, it's only a problem for the passengers". I also used the exercises in the program quite often to ground myself and bring myself back to NOW instead of letting my very awesome anxiety tell the amazing stories it knows how to tell. And I did not have ONE panic attack. I thought I was getting close at one point, but was able to stop it in its tracks.
The day after we returned from North Carolina 2 1/2 years ago, I was NEVER getting on a plane again. I don't feel that way right now and that's what is really important to me. Again...I don't "like" flying (yet)...and yes...I still sat on the plane in one position with my legs shaking most the flight home, but that was in great part to it being dark and me losing my bearings...I wasn't quite as prepared for that as I would have liked. BUT...I still feel like I could get on a plane again. And for me...that is HUGE. It changes my life really. It opens up a world that I couldn't even imagine before. And it's a start. I still have a LOT of work to do. But I'm ahead of where I was after my last flight. :)
And so, I feel the program was worth all the time and money. However, I am also going to say that I had the absolute best support system ever for this trip. And for me...that was a vital aspect of my emotional survival. The SOAR program prepared me...my friends and my team of support "doula-ed" me through it. And I need to address all that.
The Alaska Airlines staff was INCREDIBLE. There's no other way to describe it. I met the pilots both ways and the pilot on the way home went WAY above and beyond and boarded me first and took me into the cockpit. Here's proof:
This picture still makes me cry. Look how invested he is in me. And THAT is what got me throughout this trip. Complete strangers became invested in me. Truly invested. My flight home was amazing. Every single flight attendant checked on me numerous times. I was invited to hang out in the galley with them (which I didn't do because I couldn't move my legs). The pilots made extra announcements during the flight that were clearly for me. Every time we hit turbulence, they'd come over the intercom to explain it was normal. When we landed, I got a shout out from the pilots, "Good Job Kelli" over the intercom and they stopped me on the way out of the plane to ask me how the flight was and told me they made sure the landing was nice and smooth for me. They truly took me under their wing (no pun intended) and gave me sincere care and compassion. Absolute complete strangers did this for me.
And then there were my friends. Oh my gosh, I have no way to explain what awesome friends I have. I had continuous texts and FB messages throughout the flight. I had friends making me laugh and I had friends reminding me that I could do this exactly when I needed it. For those of you reading this who did all this for me...you simply have NO idea what all that did for me. How many times I laughed out loud or had tears run down my face because you gave me encouragement just when I needed it. You called me brave and courageous and you told me you were proud of me. And although I didn't feel brave or courageous at the time, I do now. In part because you believed in me.
And that's where this hits me. I'm not going to go into my whole story, but over the past 10 years I have been working very hard on myself. In the past 3 or 4 I have had HUGE epiphanies. HUGE. I have found a lot of forgiveness for myself and others and I have truly been shown my old stories that I've been carrying around for a long time. And the main one is simply that I'm not worthy. That I don't belong here. I know why I feel that way and it's an old story and one that I know I no longer have to carry. Honestly, one that I thought I had quit carrying until one of those epiphanies showed me how much that was not true. It is a constant, daily process for me to remember that I AM worthy. Some days I've got it...others...when fear and anxiety creep up, remind me that there is work to do. This trip gave me many reminders. :) Honestly, it's why I'm good at the work I do because I always want to make sure that every other human being I come into contact with knows THEY are worthy.
Thus, to experience the care I received over the last couple of weeks...how so many people made it so very clear to me that I AM worthy was just incredibly overwhelming. The amount of care that was given to me made it abundantly obvious that I belong here...and that I am worthy. People stopped what they were doing in their lives to text me or FB me or track my entire flight (4 hours each way). People just going about their day doing their jobs took time for me, a stranger, to let me know that they cared about me. That makes it pretty damn obvious that I am worthy and I belong here on this round planet we call Earth.
I was seen. In all my vulnerability and fear...I was seen. And not judged. But instead...protected and cared for. I allowed myself to be raw and vulnerable and shake off my strong, tough exterior and in doing so, I was surrounded by love and care. By friends and strangers alike. This is what I ask of my clients in my office. This is what I know assists with healing. When those walls come down and we go to the hard, dark, scary parts of our stories...that's when the big stuff happens. And thus...if I ask it of my clients, it's important I do it myself. So, I did. And it was scary and hard. And then big stuff happened. :)
Sure...I powered through a huge fear of flying. I AM proud of myself for that. But I also powered through a much larger fear. The fear that being exactly who I am isn't good enough. But...you see..it is. For me. For you. For everyone. This world seems to require us to change who we are to survive. To not show the "real" us. To suppress feelings. To hide. It's what causes us to judge others because everyone is simply a mirror. And I'm determined that when someone looks into their own mirror when they look at me...they see genuineness. I saw genuineness yesterday in my friends and in strangers. And it is a beautiful thing.
I AM worthy. I DO belong here. I have so much to do here. And I can do it as who I am...not some one who suppresses feelings or emotions or old stories, but who takes each day, one by one and accepts the good stuff and the hard stuff all as simply information...not to be judged. Just lived.
I have doula-ed many families through the birth of their babies. I have held space. I have genuinely cared for and believed in these families. Birth brings those old stories to the forefront and I have watched countless women find their vulnerability and face those stories and push through them as they birthed their babies. I sit in my office day after day and hold space for people as they peel back their layers as I have peeled back mine. As I say over and over, I'm no different than they are, I'm simply further down my path. The vulnerability that my clients bring to my office is powerful and profound and remarkable to witness. I have been honored to work with so many people as they have experienced their own pieces of their life journey. Over the past 10 days, I was blessed to be on the other side with so many people holding my space and supporting me as I peeled back another layer...a BIG one...one that I've been hanging on to for a LONG time.
Maybe it's just a vacation hangover, but I feel different today. There aren't really words to describe it. But I'm certainly more ME today than I was 10 days ago. And that's big stuff.
So...sure...it was a vacation...but I'm kind of exhausted today as this vacation felt like a lot of work in more ways than one. SO much fun was had. I had such a great time spending 10 full days with my family of 5. I miss Blake today as he's back in school and I miss Olly who is back at work. I know that this might have been the last big family vacation I'll ever take with Jonathan and that's a hard one to swallow. But...that is another big challenge of mine...letting go of my oldest son whose wings are getting bigger and bigger. And I firmly believe that had I not been willing to go through my own journey and face my own fears and handle my own challenges...especially those in the last 5 years, I wouldn't be able to face this next big one of letting my oldest baby go. It won't be easy. But I've done "not easy"...a lot...and I've come out the other side. I'll do it again.
And all that...from one simple family vacation to deep in the heart of Texas. Who knew a video game convention would open up such deep life lessons. :) So, let me end this with a HUGE thank you to each and every one of you who held space for me, texted me, FB'd me, e-mailed me, and simply supported me through this process. What you gave to me was an incredible gift that will never be forgotten.
And now...on to the next challenge...Bring It, Driver's Ed! ;)
Friday, January 2, 2015
Summarized Thoughts of SOAR Program
So, I did it. I completed the entire program. Not only did I read the book from cover to cover, but I completed all 11 DVDs. And I'm currently loading the Take Me Along CD on to my iPhone.
While loading this CD, I'm listening to it. There is significant discussion about anti-anxiety meds which I found quite interesting. As a very anti-med person, this isn't an option for me and I do believe with Capt. Bunn's opinion that all we have learned in this program is SO much more powerful than anti-anxiety meds.
Capt. Bunn also addresses anticipatory anxiety and that there is not much that can be done about that. He says even the most experienced performers often still get anxious before a show, but once they're on stage they are fine. I know many childbirth educators that feel this way as well. Capt. Bunn mentions that some performers feel that on the days they didn't have anticipatory anxiety, they didn't perform as well. There is something in that anxiety that actually helps us perform better, or in this case, fly on a plane. We should expect and welcome anticipatory anxiety, just not let it get too out of control and practice one of the exercises we learned in the program. I've already used this exercise in other stressful situations in my life and find it works well. It's really all about mindfulness and being in THIS moment.
Capt. Bunn mentions that we should plan to keep our mind busy and to bring along books or games or knitting. I already have several books I'll be bringing along with me on the plane. Reading didn't really work for me on my last set of flights, but I'm hopeful with all I now know, these two flights will be different. The goal is to stay out of "what if" and stay in the "what is".
The remaining tracks on this CD are to be used at different times of the flight...arriving at the airport, an exercise while in the airport, in the boarding area, waiting to board, meeting the pilot, when settled in your seat, climb and cruise and landing. I did listen to them all... they're all review of the program, but to listen to as you're moving your way through the flight.
I basically said a lot of my feelings through the past posts of each DVD, but I just have to say, every single penny, and every single minute, I have spent on this program is worth it. You don't just get DVDs, but countless e-mails...all of which I have printed and are bringing with me...split up by topic so I can quickly access on the flight as well. Plus, you get access to Capt. Bunn. He replies personally to e-mails and there is a message board on the site on which he is very active. This is such an amazingly thorough program. I would recommend it to anyone. Again...I'm not getting commission or kick-backs. I just truly love this program. Of course, I guess the real test will come in a couple of weeks and, I'll definitely report back then.
The next couple of weeks will include some anticipatory anxiety, I'm sure. I'm going to be asking for help from people to keep me in their thoughts and to provide me support as I take on conquering this pretty enormous fear of mine. But, so far, I'm feeling much more confident than I ever thought I could. This book in conjunction with my own personal therapy WILL help me through these next two flights. I am confident of that. I know it won't be perfect, but I'm shooting for much improved.
Time is counting down. It's getting close. And I CAN DO THIS! :)
While loading this CD, I'm listening to it. There is significant discussion about anti-anxiety meds which I found quite interesting. As a very anti-med person, this isn't an option for me and I do believe with Capt. Bunn's opinion that all we have learned in this program is SO much more powerful than anti-anxiety meds.
Capt. Bunn also addresses anticipatory anxiety and that there is not much that can be done about that. He says even the most experienced performers often still get anxious before a show, but once they're on stage they are fine. I know many childbirth educators that feel this way as well. Capt. Bunn mentions that some performers feel that on the days they didn't have anticipatory anxiety, they didn't perform as well. There is something in that anxiety that actually helps us perform better, or in this case, fly on a plane. We should expect and welcome anticipatory anxiety, just not let it get too out of control and practice one of the exercises we learned in the program. I've already used this exercise in other stressful situations in my life and find it works well. It's really all about mindfulness and being in THIS moment.
Capt. Bunn mentions that we should plan to keep our mind busy and to bring along books or games or knitting. I already have several books I'll be bringing along with me on the plane. Reading didn't really work for me on my last set of flights, but I'm hopeful with all I now know, these two flights will be different. The goal is to stay out of "what if" and stay in the "what is".
The remaining tracks on this CD are to be used at different times of the flight...arriving at the airport, an exercise while in the airport, in the boarding area, waiting to board, meeting the pilot, when settled in your seat, climb and cruise and landing. I did listen to them all... they're all review of the program, but to listen to as you're moving your way through the flight.
I basically said a lot of my feelings through the past posts of each DVD, but I just have to say, every single penny, and every single minute, I have spent on this program is worth it. You don't just get DVDs, but countless e-mails...all of which I have printed and are bringing with me...split up by topic so I can quickly access on the flight as well. Plus, you get access to Capt. Bunn. He replies personally to e-mails and there is a message board on the site on which he is very active. This is such an amazingly thorough program. I would recommend it to anyone. Again...I'm not getting commission or kick-backs. I just truly love this program. Of course, I guess the real test will come in a couple of weeks and, I'll definitely report back then.
The next couple of weeks will include some anticipatory anxiety, I'm sure. I'm going to be asking for help from people to keep me in their thoughts and to provide me support as I take on conquering this pretty enormous fear of mine. But, so far, I'm feeling much more confident than I ever thought I could. This book in conjunction with my own personal therapy WILL help me through these next two flights. I am confident of that. I know it won't be perfect, but I'm shooting for much improved.
Time is counting down. It's getting close. And I CAN DO THIS! :)
DVD #11 - At The Airport - Staying Connected with The Ground
DVD #11 is called Staying Connected with The Ground. This is actually the last DVD as DVD #12 is a DVD to load on to an iPod or iPhone to take with us on the plane. So, let's do this thing...
Capt. Bunn starts by discussing physical and emotional presence as ways to stay in touch with people and discusses how when we're babies, the only one that matters is physical presence. By about 8 months, babies understand that even if a thing is gone, it still exists. This is called object permanence.
So, to feel secure, we need to understand that the people we love will return or that we can return to them even when we can't see them. Capt. Bunn goes through this entire idea and then helps us understand that if we don't have a connection to the ground, then when we lose connection with the ground, we can actually panic. So, this DVD will give us an exercise to make sure that we always are connected to the ground and know we will return to it. Being that we're flying at night on the way home, this will likely be a good exercise for me.
Capt. Bunn explains that a pilot never feels out of contact with the ground because they know every signal that they get to guide them safely from one airport to another is from the ground. The pilot knows the means to return physically to the ground.
When we drive a car, we use our eye for landmarks to get to where we're going. Pilots do the same with different visual cues. Today, the navigation in a cockpit looks a lot like the navigation in a car if you have a GPS system. He then goes on to explain all the controls and how exactly pilots know where they are going. One of the things I definitely appreciated was the explanation of why planes can land in thick fog. He even shows a plane landing in the fog. Again...flying in the dark and in the winter, I definitely have some concern about weather. But Capt. Bunn keeps reminding me that weather is NOT an issue in flying.
One of the things Capt. Bunn says freaks me out a little, but he makes it sound so routine that I just have to believe in him. As the plane is landing in the fog, items are being pointed out to us on the screen...the lights...where the runway begins and the touchdown point. Capt. Bunn says that if at this point, the pilot still can't see the runway, he will abort the landing...just 50 feet off the ground. Wow! That idea scares the heck out of me. But again, Capt. Bunn makes it sound very routine. :o
Capt. Bunn's point in all this is that the pilots ALWAYS have contact with the ground, even when they can't see it. They can always find their spot to touch down on the runway.
We now are going to see several takeoff, cruise, landing sets to help us maintain security that the pilots are always in touch with the ground in very precise ways. He reminds that no matter the weather conditions, the plane always follows the signals on the ground...through physical contact with the ground, electric contact with the ground and back to physical contact with the ground. Capt. Bunn is establishing in our minds that every takeoff is followed by a landing. He says bad weather is a "thing of the past". Again...a much needed reminder of me. He goes on to say that "in aviation, we leave nothing to chance" and that the navigation signals are so precise, but still, the pilots always are certain they see the runway visually just before landing...and it "always is". But as he stated above...if for some reason, the pilot couldn't see the runway, he or she can abort the landing 50 ft from the ground.
These videos are good for me. There are take offs and landings in all kinds of weather including thick fog and in POURING rain. We see the visual aspects and the electronic aspects of all of it. I still don't think I would enjoy flying in any of this, but I do better understand it now which helps with the anxiety. There is one landing in very bright sun right and they are landing in the middle of a mountainous area. I have no idea where the runway is. I just see lots of mountains and it looks like they're flying right into them. :o They fly what seems like very low and for a long time and I find myself watching this video like it's an action movie and I don't know what's going to happen. Obviously the plane is going to land fine, otherwise that would be a terrible ending to this entire program! ;) But, I'm still tense and trying to find the runway. Then the plane does a 360 and heads back the other way and I can hear an alarm saying "banking" which freaks me out, then the plane straightens out and in the distance I can see the runway but it looks too far away. There are buildings and roads and houses and it looks as though the plane is going to land right on them. I hear "100" announced and know that's 100 feet and they seem SO close to buildings and then, they land as normal on the runway. I kind of want to applaud except I know this was just a completely normal and average landing for them. This plane taxis all the way to the gate and this DVD ends, as does the program.
Whew...I did it. I completed the program. I'll compile my summarized thoughts in another post.
Capt. Bunn starts by discussing physical and emotional presence as ways to stay in touch with people and discusses how when we're babies, the only one that matters is physical presence. By about 8 months, babies understand that even if a thing is gone, it still exists. This is called object permanence.
So, to feel secure, we need to understand that the people we love will return or that we can return to them even when we can't see them. Capt. Bunn goes through this entire idea and then helps us understand that if we don't have a connection to the ground, then when we lose connection with the ground, we can actually panic. So, this DVD will give us an exercise to make sure that we always are connected to the ground and know we will return to it. Being that we're flying at night on the way home, this will likely be a good exercise for me.
Capt. Bunn explains that a pilot never feels out of contact with the ground because they know every signal that they get to guide them safely from one airport to another is from the ground. The pilot knows the means to return physically to the ground.
When we drive a car, we use our eye for landmarks to get to where we're going. Pilots do the same with different visual cues. Today, the navigation in a cockpit looks a lot like the navigation in a car if you have a GPS system. He then goes on to explain all the controls and how exactly pilots know where they are going. One of the things I definitely appreciated was the explanation of why planes can land in thick fog. He even shows a plane landing in the fog. Again...flying in the dark and in the winter, I definitely have some concern about weather. But Capt. Bunn keeps reminding me that weather is NOT an issue in flying.
One of the things Capt. Bunn says freaks me out a little, but he makes it sound so routine that I just have to believe in him. As the plane is landing in the fog, items are being pointed out to us on the screen...the lights...where the runway begins and the touchdown point. Capt. Bunn says that if at this point, the pilot still can't see the runway, he will abort the landing...just 50 feet off the ground. Wow! That idea scares the heck out of me. But again, Capt. Bunn makes it sound very routine. :o
Capt. Bunn's point in all this is that the pilots ALWAYS have contact with the ground, even when they can't see it. They can always find their spot to touch down on the runway.
We now are going to see several takeoff, cruise, landing sets to help us maintain security that the pilots are always in touch with the ground in very precise ways. He reminds that no matter the weather conditions, the plane always follows the signals on the ground...through physical contact with the ground, electric contact with the ground and back to physical contact with the ground. Capt. Bunn is establishing in our minds that every takeoff is followed by a landing. He says bad weather is a "thing of the past". Again...a much needed reminder of me. He goes on to say that "in aviation, we leave nothing to chance" and that the navigation signals are so precise, but still, the pilots always are certain they see the runway visually just before landing...and it "always is". But as he stated above...if for some reason, the pilot couldn't see the runway, he or she can abort the landing 50 ft from the ground.
These videos are good for me. There are take offs and landings in all kinds of weather including thick fog and in POURING rain. We see the visual aspects and the electronic aspects of all of it. I still don't think I would enjoy flying in any of this, but I do better understand it now which helps with the anxiety. There is one landing in very bright sun right and they are landing in the middle of a mountainous area. I have no idea where the runway is. I just see lots of mountains and it looks like they're flying right into them. :o They fly what seems like very low and for a long time and I find myself watching this video like it's an action movie and I don't know what's going to happen. Obviously the plane is going to land fine, otherwise that would be a terrible ending to this entire program! ;) But, I'm still tense and trying to find the runway. Then the plane does a 360 and heads back the other way and I can hear an alarm saying "banking" which freaks me out, then the plane straightens out and in the distance I can see the runway but it looks too far away. There are buildings and roads and houses and it looks as though the plane is going to land right on them. I hear "100" announced and know that's 100 feet and they seem SO close to buildings and then, they land as normal on the runway. I kind of want to applaud except I know this was just a completely normal and average landing for them. This plane taxis all the way to the gate and this DVD ends, as does the program.
Whew...I did it. I completed the program. I'll compile my summarized thoughts in another post.
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