Carried Away

warning: heavy post

 I am learning more about the human brain and grief than I had ever imagined.

My most recent adventures have taken me down roads of cognitive medical reading, personal wondering and expansively painful learning.

My father had decided he was going to have the surgery after our visit to the neurologist. The doctor pretty much said, aside from fear of the surgery (which is normal) why NOT have it. At that " suggestion" my father said, fuck it schedule the surgery. 

I was there asking for alternatives and finding out that his long term headaches were probably the start of this who event. After ping pong visits between the neurologist and the neurosurgeon it was shown on MRI scans that my father actually has a lot of atrophy of his brain and so the surgery was not the safest option or the preferred route from the surgeon. So back to where we started and watching his cognitive decline and body function loss up close.

(below text written in stream of consciousness)

I have just finished two of the most challenging weeks with them. My father had a yearly check up and the doctor seemed fine with all he was doing; which seemed like a cursory look at things but I was exhausted and my father had been coughing all day. Doctor listened to his chest and said it was clear. It ended up keeping my mother up all night and she was already running on almost no sleep. He then states when we return that he "isn't feeling well" I say if things are not better soon we are going to a walk in clinic. The weekend that followed was all coughing and my brother took him on Monday, because as an immune compromised person he wanted to make sure I was safer until we knew more and it was bronchitis possibly the start of pneumonia. By Wednesday my mother on a call with me coughed and I returned to town to take her to a clinic that confirmed she had pneumonia, and Friday I returned because she was worse and then we went to the ER because her symptoms pointed to C-diff and she hadn't eaten since Wednesday after the first appointment and my father had decided to stop eating and then the ER, who said she had a viral pneumonia and then we were there again Saturday to watch them eat, because now neither of them was and then Monday and Tuesday my brother and wife took food to them and I spent all day calling non-profits and doctors and learning about Medi-Cal and being overwhelmed with tasks and calls and then Wednesday took my mother to a psychiatrist to see if she could start her SSRI's again because she stopped ALL her meds cold turkey a couple months ago including her zoloft, which might add to why every interaction with her was her crying. Sitting in the office for her meeting was strange, but even stranger was her new dementia like memory looping of phrases and memories was heartbreaking. The doctor said with her level of depression it was common and should start clearing when her new medicines start working. Then Thursday meeting with the exterminator for their home who said we need to replace the dilapidated garage door because they can't help if there is a literal open door for rodents. (it was not a surprise or a shock) So my brother is taking charge of that. A physical therapist who only came for 10min that day and sent me into a mental rage and then finding that a very important document for my father had expired and that stops the process of the other big project. So yesterday was all day of online renewal forms and finally signing documents for in home help that we can pay for out of pocket and ideally that help, will start Tuesday. More meetings Monday and doctors appointments Tuesday and managing schedules and paperwork and answering phone calls and texts from family who want to know all the details....and then ask if I tried x, y, or Z. In the end my mother told me I was really good at the "handholding" I was doing for them and I should make it my job. I said " I'd really just like to be an artist"  and she said " you can be creative with it, the caregiving....That was the javelin into my heart...and I kept a poker face and waited to get into the car and drive away before crying. The diapers, the food fussing, the medications, the water reminders, the doctors offices, the questions and suggestions and assumptions....remind me of my infertility days. The casual suggestions about adoptions and sex positions and the  'if you just" or "have you tried" and the banger "have you considered"

I only made yoga once last week, I am currently sitting in my workspace trying to catch up on normal things, like laundry and bills, but I have gotten 4 calls from the parents already and I am still trying to imagine my work. 

Trying to see it in my minds eye...imagine making it, breathing deeply and feeling content in the process. Telling myself that life isn't passing me by and my work still matters and I still need to make it because although all this time has been stolen from me and my partnership....it really does matter and things will change soon and I can use all this energy to make my own art.

There she goes

 It feels strange to write about a car. 

I donated my car on Wednesday to the Humane World for Animals. We have a newer car, all electric and my sweet girl had almost 300,000 miles on her. She was getting tired, was gonna need all her original hoses and boots and seals replaced. 

She was my ride or die for 21 years! I picked her out originally because I wanted a four door car that would be easier to put in and take out a car seat, had enough room for my father to sit comfortably in the back and had better safety features...airbags! Before her I had a 1985 Toyota Corolla that I purchased from my great aunt, that only made right turns,  and when I started driving 100miles round trip to and from work, my mechanic suggested I get a safer car and a cell phone.

I picked out my gal, no bells or whistles, just super standard features with airbags. The upgrades from the 1985 car was that this new one had air conditioning, airbags and a CD player! It still had roll down windows (in case I drove off a bridge, I could still escape my car) and buttons and knobs that required turning to find radio stations and such. She had 3 miles on her when we drove off the lot and I loved that car. When stuff got serious, not long after getting her, she was my safe space to rage scream, cry and yell at the world. No one was the wiser, she kept my secrets. We went on the occasional road trip, but I babied her. Drove my goddaughters to and from school, carried my niblings to and from overnights. Even transported them along with the dogs while we waited for word about the youngest being born. She carried me to and from infusions and errands and gardens. 

Gladly hauling bags of compost in her trunk.

She ferried us and the cats to safety when the fires had us evacuating to safer locations. She made it through floods and storms and all the while required very little. She was " middle grey", a color I chose as a nod to my photographic love. She was my first brand new car, I picked her out, financed her and she in many way equated freedom for me. Freedom of movement, freedom for choice...I could go anywhere...she was mine! 

So when we got the newest used car, it was time to say goodbye. I cleaned out my car that night, emptying it of all the little things she had collected over the years, Acorns and CDs and love notes and keys and coins. I ripped off the Band-Aid in many ways.... I was emotional ! I sat on the kitchen floor and cried. I turned ideas around in my head. I asked my brother if his kids would want her? " she would be the perfect car to learn to drive in " I loved the idea that an Aunt would pass on another car in the family...but my niblings said no, they did not have any interest in learning how to drive! 

I asked people at my yoga studio that had kiddos, no one needed a car. 

This broke my heart, but also made it possible to think beyond the present and instead, look to donation.

The Barren was very supportive, he too had a mix of feelings. He didn't want me to feel forced to make a choice, but also knew I would have all the same options with this newer car.

When I decided who was going to take her on her next path, I drove her to the garden, talking to her along the way, thanking her for all her support over the years. I picked flowers for her dashboard and left them there to dry. 

The day before the tow truck came, I burned sage inside the car. Telling her that I release her from all that she helped me carry over the years. All the sorrow and pain that she allowed me to fill her with. All the times I screamed and cried and banged my hands into the steering wheel. I released her of all her obligations and thanked her for taking to me to places that also supported my joy and excitement. 

She was cleared of it all, she was free.

I tucked a little Milagros into a secret place to carry her to her next happy. 

The following day, I met the tow truck and watched her drive away.

I thought it would hurt more...maybe it will down the line but for now I am hopeful she will be auctioned off and make someone else happy.

Has anyone read Klara and the sun

A friend mentioned that our story was similar, and I kinda agree.

Now I feel different, as though I also let some of that sorrow and heaviness go too.

The goodbye was proof of growing pains and that is why I cried so much.

Stagnation

 

This is how I spend my hours in the infusion chair. I take selfies and snooze.

I am currently trying to make some art....my end of year submission is due at the end of the month and I am finding myself struggling to focus, be inspired and motivated into making something interesting.

I have given myself grace, space and time...and yet I am feeling like I am trying to pull from an empty vessel. I am exercising, watching what I eat, trying to get solid sleep, reading things that are interesting and yet I am still coping with what seems like artistic blocks.

I am struggling with negative self talk, I have set firm boundaries for time to sit and try and work...and here I am, writing and not making some kind of artwork. 

I have recently come to terms with:

 the reality of being someone with multiple hidden chronic diseases

My relationship with my parents has broken in a new way, and despite my kindest, most tender efforts my father mentioned this in therapy yesterday: "he and his wife have been "parented" by their grown children since his head injury and... they are in the middle of a falling out with their daughter"

I remember in my grief therapy many years ago, one of the things I tried to resolve was not being heard. Some of my earliest memories were feelings of always being dismissed and told I was being overly emotional or silly. I must need a nap or need to sit and think about what it is I wanted...I was often angry and crying from frustration. I learned that what it actually it was because no one heard me or listened to me. So I would scream and slam doors, and then get in trouble.

This feels a lot like that.

I told The Barren the other day, that I realize this is my role with my parents now. I don't have to like it, but I also know that my parents don't want to be accountable for themselves or choices. So if something needs to be done, and I mention that it might be a good idea to think about it, their response is: 

"well, I guess I'll do it because if I don't I'll be in "trouble" with her, so fine I'll make that appointment or not climb that ladder to sweep the roof"

My brother does not get this response.

It hurts and I mostly want to cry, but it won't change anything. My father will not remember the conversation a couple days later and my mother clearly won't either. So now, I just use a flat voice with conversations on the phone and simply deliver information about doctors appointments for my father, or make Mmm Hmm sounds, stating no words of agreement or disagreement when my mother decides or remembers to call me. At the end of each random call, I ask if there is anything I can assist with and am always told no. So I leave it there.

I am getting my infusions every 8 weeks now, and they are taking 3 hours. I have to stay afterwards because my blood pressure drops and makes the infusion nurse anxious. So I sit and wiggle my feet for a few moments afterwards and my blood pressure goes up enough to be dismissed. While sitting there, I snooze, take selfies, look at social media and text The Barren updates on how thigs are going. It is horribly boring but early bloodwork results show that it might be working.

I have been doing my yoga practice four days a week and meditation one day a week. All of my classes are heated, and half of them are weighted. I have upped my protein levels in my diet as I read that it is recommended for Crohns and Colitis disease. It has become quite a full time job and I am doing all I can to not slip into disordered eating patterns.

***************************

update

I finally made some artwork and submitted it Friday. I will know in the next couple weeks if something caught the curators eye enough to invite me to exhibit again this year. I was able to turn work in ahead of the deadline and have spent the last couple of days relaxing my brain and revisiting the idea of a more organic method of artmaking....instead of chasing a deadline.

I am proud of myself for giving everything I had to give to the project and turn in four brand new works for consideration.

Many anniversaries are in this week...

The 30th is the anniversary of my dear animal companion: 2020

One of my miscarriage's is the 30th as well

and then our Wedding Anniversary, 22years married, 32 years together

We are both so rattled, I have a feeling it will end up being a meal and a sunset drive. 

The Barren mentioned last night that he is really grabbing at straws for ideas...and I know what that feels like. We have been massively distracted with everything else life is throwing into our faces. We have had to make plans to travel for a family trip at the end of next month, to visit dying family. It will be like family gatherings of the past where we drive for the entire day just to get half way to where we need to be.....and those arrangements have taken all our mental energy. We are both quite anxious about it and the election is weighing so heavy in out minds and hearts...we are having a hard time focusing on anything other than just functioning. So our wedding anniversary has taken the back seat again...honestly, just spending time away from his office is gift enough for me.

I am feeling a lot

thinking a lot

and trying to stay upbeat for his sake

really we are just treading water.

Smiles and kisses above the water and absolute chaos below the surface.

                                     

Grief

 I have found that my recent doctors visits are causing a wake. I am spun for a couple days after the visit or test. It seems to be more obvious to me now. Maybe it was always like that, but I wasn't as tuned into myself before...but it is like a neon sign to me now.

I can mask fairly well during the visit, but afterwards, it is like a crash. I want to cry and hide and be taken care of. None of which are realistic anymore.

Having to receive monthly infusions now has challenged my sense of self and belief in my strength.

Am I really a strong woman or have I just made myself into a character in my mind? A woman that can handle anything thrown at her. A woman that can balance all the dishes and dance steps. A woman that can smile no matter what is being said about her. A woman that can walk into any room with confidence and poise and carry on a conversation with anyone there regardless of the topic.

Now I feel like a shell, I feel broken and covered in duct tape to hold it together and no one seems to notice because I have enchanted them for so long, they can't see me any other way.

When I saw my doctor last I broke down on the exam table telling her I was overwhelmed and she told me to be thankful of all I have. It felt like a slap in the face.

When I started getting my infusions over a year ago, and all the tests prior to that, I had drawn a line in the sand, that I don't want needles in my hands. I had a horrible experience many years ago from an ER hospital visit where I got a series of small hard lumps in my left arm that took months to resolve. I was in so much pain from them that I told The Barren that I NEVER want an IV in my hand ever again. My line was upheld with one exception, my endo surgery back in 2012.

Yesterday I had to cross it again at my infusion with a new nurse.*

Tuesday (the day before) I went for an MR enterography. For mine, you have to drink two and half bottles of thick fluid that lights up your gut, and then they give you medicine to slow your gut down, and then inject you with contrast, and take a bunch of photos face down in a MRI machine. The nurse tried multiple times to get a line started in my arm, before declaring it done, all the while my left arm, was left sore, swollen, bruised and an unviable option for my infusion the next day. 

*Hence the need to seek new veins.

When the infusion nurse said she'd be gentle and not leave a mark, I had to fold...I had to get my long fought for medicine. My self advocacy tank was empty, what choice did I have?

I quickly set into play a weighing of the options in my mind and thought, 

Ideally this decision will not land me in the ER again. 

A phrase I use far more often these days.

After she placed the IV she stepped away to attend to other matters and I shed a couple tears...I told myself to hold it together until we were somewhere else. Somewhere softer than an artificially lit room, with artificial plants devoid of images, and filled with the scent of rubbing alcohol. I think I was able to wipe the teardrops without being seen. The Barren sent me a text message shortly after that promised I could cry it all away that night when he got home. That idea gave me some extra bravery and I sat a little taller.

Two hours later I was back in my car, and driving to the hardware store to pick up some plants to put into the soil on my patio before the wave of fatigue hit. I went home, ate some rice and tofu and sat in silence. Then around 5pm, The Barren called and said he could not make any more choices for the day and so I called in an order to the local Vietnamese restaurant and The Barren picked it up on the way home. He then told me about how horrible his day was and I listened and told him I was sorry he had a rough day, ideally things will be less stressful now that he was home. My arm was itching and aching from the day before and I think I hid that from him too.

I ended up falling asleep on the couch while he watched something on YouTube and then crawled into bed, asking him before falling back to sleep if he thought I was strong.

He said: you are a warrior, you have had to fight for so much.

This made me sadder than I thought it would. 

Infertility has taught me a lot about grief, and sadness appearing in new and unexpected places. It has taught me how to speak up in medical spaces and ask questions, but also fortify myself for the answers as they are often ones you don't want. It has marked me in ways seen and unseen.

The new infusion nurse told me that I had such a calm serene energy about me. I thanked her and realized that my outward self was on display and that my inner dialog of tears, duct tape and sadness was hidden from sight, thankfully.

Memory of loss, and a little growth

**trigger warning: miscarriage** 

Today marks the anniversary of my final miscarriage.

I wrote about it HERE when it was happening.

I was alone, and one of my old-man cats sat on me or sat with me the whole time. It was unlike him, and now I am thankful he sensed that I was very alone, and losing my final attempt of motherhood. He is woven into the memory of the days.

Since then, when this day arrives I remember that final loss as the end of the pavement. A path I was familiar with that was now suddenly, unpaved and new and unknown. I took a self portrait that day, strangely I had a slight smirk. Maybe it was reflex to smile, and then at the same moment, I realized it was not happy or sad...but just was. That is the lingering feeling now.

It just was

I think of my star child often; sometimes they come to me in visions or dreams....other times I suddenly feel like I have forgotten to pick someone up or that the person I want to turn to has walked away, and I am left standing alone, staring into the ether.

They never got big enough to ever know completely. 

Now several years later, it is a day like others, except there are pauses along the way that I take to reflect and send love out. Much like days of loss for my grandparents and friends and companions that have left this plane of existence.

I think that is growth...I have learned how to carry the sorrow in a manageable way. Does that mean I have forgotten it or moved on....not really. The Barren has been pointing out and gazing at small humans much more often these days and I think that has been a revisited heartbreak for me and him. We are emotional and empathic people, so this is natural for us...but with a bitter twist of our own loss folded in.

So I send extra gentle hugs out to you all, as you remember your losses after reading this.

We are the broken but not lost

Bound

 

You have got to be kidding me...

I went for an MRI this morning, the doctor is wanting to knock something else of the horrible list.

I have had MRIs before, more times than I'd like, but all seemingly necessary.

Today though, today I had a problem.

I arrived ahead of time, got in right away...and in a great shift, was not required to drink strange "juices" or volunteer a vein for glowing fluids.

Instead it was a strait "let the magnets take the photos" kind of MRI.

I went in, relaxed and un-phased and was in my double gown situation (one put on forward and one backwards to avoid any peep show) and sat on the MRI bench and was then told that I'd be heading into the machine head first and backwards....I was strapped in, arms bound at my side and elevated and inserted into the machine....one of the techs said..." are you okay" and I said "NO, No I am NOT okay...."

to which I was pulled out of the machine, and had to catch my breath.

I was having a FULL BLOWN PANIC attack

I asked to look back at the machine, so I could "confirm I was not going into a sarcophagus" 

I did a quick scan of what was triggering me and asked....

"Can I release my arms?"...it was allowed and one of the techs asked if maybe a towel over my eyes would help, I agreed to that.

I was very thankful for the kindness and I apologized a million times, to which they said all was fine.

I was asked if it was better, I said yes and back into the machine I went to complete the test.

It was a half hour of booming an clanking noises...breathing exercises and then I was done.

I thanked them again...got dressed and left. 

Shuffled off to my car and cried.

I was mortified, embarrassed and suddenly understood why horses are given blinders.

The less I could see, the safer I felt.

Counter intuitive to my years of meditation, I needed to massively disassociate.

Ostrich myself to not feel bound and threatened.

I had my second infusion this week, I had a breakthrough pain episode this week, I had a massive deadline this week and then this MRI.

Maybe I really needed to just hide, maybe all of this is overwhelming...

maybe I do need to escape.

My 20th wedding anniversary is Tuesday

We have a night at a local boutique hotel booked, but we are both at a loss.

We can't travel right now, we can't break away just yet, it is all in the air.

BUT, we are gonna have time together and in a different bed.

It is also the anniversary of our first miscarriage and a death anniversary of a beloved pet.

We were social yesterday, going to a family event to carve pumpkins, and then follow it with a Halloween adults only party...but everyone was talking about their kids and how it is having teenagers or younger kiddos.

The Barren and I just exchanged looks most of the time and 

nodded and said "oh my, yeah that sounds difficult"

These days have me mentally bound too.

I reminisce on the days that we had hoped for, the times that were supposed to happen.

Our G-daughter is the age of our star child, she is a physical reminder of passing time.

I adore this time of year, the wind down with joyful punctuations of celebration. 

Building our memory space for Dia De Los Muertos today, I placed a doll amongst the photos of family long gone. Marigolds line the edge of the space, a figurine of a black dog to guide the spirits, candles to light the way. Joyful calaveras to help with the celebration. I made a space to remember our beloved animal companions who are no longer with us.

After everything is in place...

Something magical happens in the quiet of the house, after we put out drinks and food for the spirits...the house feels full, a place of calm and filled with love.

There is no sadness, our minds fill with happy memories of those visiting.

Maybe I'll hide (stick my head in the clouds) for a few days with my sweetie, forget all that is required of me, forget all the doctors appointments, the state of the world, the general malaise and 

simply float in those unbound moments of what if.

Wishing you all an unbound hallows eve

celebrate your personal magic

because you ARE magical

One on One time

It seems to have become an annual event.

Every July we get some serious one-on-one time with our closest nephew.

Closest, meaning proximity.

*(there are two other nephews, but their parents and years of no responses to requests or cards...has created a distance in what we had hoped to be a relationship with them.)

ANYWAYS.....

this year was the longest amount of time with our nephew, he was at our place for three nights.

He is 11 and totally into Manga comics and video games and cartoons and KITTENS

Our old man cat wanted nothing to do with his attempts at snuggles or pats...

he chose to spend his time curled under my desk sleeping on the power strip and sulking

 at HIS unwanted company. 

So I suggested that we go to the Humane Society and check out kittens.

I am not sure I totally thought the idea through when it came to my own mental health about seeing touching or interacting with kittens....

I am still quite broken from the loss of our kitty back in February and now the aging cat at home...

I am dealing with a lot of mortality in felines.

We went for half an hour on the first visit because we were meeting Uncle for lunch and and needed to pick up food before seeing him....I thought it would be and easy in and out...

It was easy to get in and out...but I was very standoff-ish with all kitties.

The following day he mentioned he wanted to go back and visit them again....

I figured it would be fine and it took a chunk of time of the day and it made him happy.

We returned and there were twice as many kittens and cats...

9week old kittens, to mature cats...

he wanted to snuggle them all...it made him so happy and smile so big...

I watched him, and offered help when claws were too sharp or wiggles too strong.

This sweet little kitty is the one that made me cry.

As I was handed this kitten, so he could play with another eager soul...

I held it close to my chest and it melted into purrs and I turned away from my nephew...

tears welling in my eyes, feeling the soft fur and rumbles of the purr against my chest.

Before the tears could fall, I told him that my heart hurt and that we should move on to the older cats...or dogs.

He was a little confused but was willing to move onto the next room.

The second visit was all about making sure to see and say hello to every kitten and cat, and then hello to every dog. That sweet little boy even sat with a dog that had a "I'm shy" sign on her kennel for almost a half an hour to make her feel better.

When the time came to leave, he said goodbye to every dog, cat and kitten.

and told me that he felt badly that he could not take them home.

I assured him that what he was feeling was empathy and compassion and that those are really wonderful emotions and that means that you are a loving person and capable of loving other beings.

The next morning I saw that one the kittens he was crazy about was adopted, and shared the news with him, his smile was huge...and he said- that is so great!

He is still to young to volunteer without and adult....but I mentioned it to him and his parents.

I spent three days, all day with my nephew...in the evenings The Barren made sure I took some quiet time for myself before bed.

I was exhausted, the nephew would have active dreams at night and call out waking The Barren and myself. He was fighting with his sisters in his dreams...having things taken by them. He remembers none of the dreams and awoke each morning happy and ready to be entertained.

I loved the time, and tried really hard to give him loads of space and time to just be.

Pool time, puzzle time, reading time, park time, making cookies, we even watched surfers and he declared he wanted to do that too.

I listened to exaggerated stories and claims, I sat and watched cartoons and simply soaked him in.

I introduced him to Bob Marley music and we sang along to Queen songs.

I do hope that he remembers being able to just be himself when he is with us.

I really love being his Auntie

Celebrity Reading

In Her Own Words: Lena Dunham on Her Decision to Have a Hysterectomy at 31

I read this yesterday and it was strangely familiar to me

down to the nitty gritty details- in a strange and comforting way

I was able to keep my uterus 

and still advocate for it every year

but there was a time I had this on the table and it was a valid and real choice 

Another toe in the pool

I think I made a leap...it feels like it at least.

I have been submitting to numerous exhibitions and this opportunity came up and although I think my chances are slight...I needed to not pass this up:

What they are looking for:

The exhibit will feature a wide array of works by female artists each addressing erotic themes in their works, and how that relates to feminism and/or contemporary society today. We are looking for works across all mediums that are uninhibited, and fearless with regards to the explorations around this theme. 

Describe your work submitted:

"A series of photographs in which I reintroduce myself to the body that I once loved before learning I was infertile. After a focused decade of sex geared towards reproduction, I am remembering what sex for pleasure is again. Overcoming the stigma of what womanhood meant, or means and embracing my sexual self."

I continue to find niches that infertility touches.

I will not be silent.

Cycles

The proceeds from this t-shirt help provide menstrual hygiene kits to people experiencing homelessness

I only get my period four times a year now.

It is part of the agreed plan to control my endometriosis, fibroids and cysts. 

It has been working well, and retarding growth on the current fibroids and any creation of new ones.

It has also allowed me to keep my uterus instead of having the suggested hysterectomy.

At first I thought it was like being neutered; taking away something so sacred as a monthly cycle.  The monthly pain left me unable to stand upright, or eat or sleep, so the idea became a welcome retreat from pain and in many ways a space to grieve my lost fertility.

I had to walk away from my efforts twice in 8 years of trying to make a family. 

When I first went off the monthly pill to dive into the pool of trying, I was almost immediately faced with a wall of pain and only after half a year was I able to advocate for further testing which first revealed my fibroids and the sudden growth had me at an oncologist. 

Back on the pill to shrink them and try to give me a window to try to get pregnant again.

The second dive into the pool had me in the ER and multiple trips to the doctor to find answers to the miscarriages. Suddenly 8 years passed and it was too much loss and too much pain to live.

I went back onto the pill after my removal of a large chocolate cyst, and an ovarian cancer scare;

that confirmed my stage 4 endo that had head-locked my ovary behind my uterus, a septum in my uterus and calcified fibroids.

The road was shut.

I grieved and celebrated this information at the same time.

I did nothing wrong in my efforts to get pregnant, but my body that I had lovingly cared, for had decided that no child shall survive in me.

Now 5 years later, I am facing a new kind of knowledge.

My periods which only come quarterly,  will eventually stop coming all together.

I am prepared to grieve that as well.

a bitter sweet party

I have my period now, I have always been a full moon bleeder.

I guess I am a druid that way, an earthy girl, a wolf woman.

I can now not have to decide if the pain is bad enough to need to go to the ER, 

instead I can sit on the couch or sleep away the mood and aches.

Still honoring the need to take care of this body.

My period arrived later than normal this cycle, and for the first time in a LONG time, 

my mind did not go to the "maybe I'm pregnant" thought...

in fact it never even entered my mind.

Instead I thought, soon there will be no more.

Things I can do

So I have been busy with my personal self created to-do lists. 

Top on that list was (see I did it) updating my personal artist website.

My old website was managed and maintained by a friend...and by friend I mean ex-boyfriend.

I maintain a relationship with my ex, it has been over 25 years now.

The Barren has zero issue with this, and I am beyond thankful that one of the many fine qualities is that he understands that people mean something to me, and that my past comes with me.

 So having a relationship with my ex totally makes sense to him and he respects that.

We (ex and I) decided long ago that we could not throw away all the time we had spent together,
 so we would stay friends, plus it was the adult thing to do. 

I know that this is quite unique and makes some people very uncomfortable...but that is just a fact.

He decided to sleep with someone else, so I left him (had to get a jab in there somewhere)

 I met The Barren about 6months there after.

I am not going to say that we had a perfect relationship, or that this friendship has not be hard at times, but we both feel it is worth maintaining it.

We were young and said hurtful things, I lost myself in the process. Some of what was done/said has taken a long time to grow past or let go of...but time marched on and we seem to always go to one another for some sense of support or creative guidance.

His partner (the same one he was with when we were together) had a hard time getting on board with it, but has come to understand that this friendship is not going anywhere 

and it is not a threat to them or her.

Over the years the ex has helped me make creative decisions, and is a good editor and creative sounding board and reference guide. We help each other out with creative things as we seem to understand each other that way still.

I had been wrestling with website design options and he stepped in and researched all the pros and cons of each, helping me see the highlights of them. I get overwhelmed with minute details and he helped clear that up.

We had decided to met face to face to discuss the final player/options and styles etc...at a coffeehouse he'd never been to before...I had been emailing and texting with him constantly but had not seen him face to face in over two years! 

When the time came for us to meet, he was no where to be found...

I could feel my heart pounding and all these feeling from when I was a teenager came back...

he is blowing me off

he "forgot"

his partner had a tantrum and he is not coming

I texted The Barren and asked how long to wait...he responded that the ex is notoriously late, and to give it a half an hour. I paced in my mind while trying to maintain my composure in my seat...slowly sipping tea. When the half hour mark arrived I slowly packed up my things and decided to walk around the block, thinking I'd catch him just arriving or check another nearby coffee house that maybe he was there instead.

Turns out that he was, at another location...the first one we talked about meeting at...but changed from that place to the new one.

When he saw me, he gave me a look that made me feel like a silly 19yr old again...he was disappointed, frustrated and convinced that I had gotten it all wrong.

I took a deep breath maintained a smile and said, "I'm glad we found each other."

He said he had looked into the coffee shop I was waiting in but, didn't dare enter it as he had never been there before. So he returned to the original local assuming I'd be there.

(I was sitting at a table that was blocked by a stone column so he could not see me from the outside).

We walked back to the coffee shop I had just left, in time for me to continue finishing my tea (they hadn't even cleared the cup and pot yet)

He sat down and we began to catch up a little. I mostly listened, he was nervous and it was awkward...needless to say we chatted and switched to a smaller table when we realized we didn't need a wall plug as originally thought.

 The morning sun was out and beaming me right in the eye and side of my face...making me sit back farther and farther..the ex noted that he could see the sun beaming me, but that he was in the shade and so didn't stop conversation, it did make me realize a simple and sweet thing about The Barren*

The talk of the website was minor, as I had most of my ideas clearly set and when I had had enough of the sun and the conversation had turned to filler I offered to drive him home, so he didn't have to walk back. We drove back to his place, I dropped him off at the curb and waved goodbye.

I then proceeded to go home, set up my account, and begin designing the new website.

In the last week it has formed into a completed vision, that I made all on my own.

The kick start was a rough one, mostly filled with self doubt over my abilities, 

but that turned out to be smoke and mirrors and trick doors.

I even designed a new name logo....

I sent a link to the ex last night declaring that it was live, and he responded that it looked great!

I was quite proud of myself.

I feel as though I am free from a shadow.

Like his control over my web presence is no longer over me...

I have taken back control over me again.

I doubted my abilities but I was wrong....

I can do it, and well at that!

*The Barren always makes sure I am out of the sun, if I was at this table with The Barren, we would have packed up and moved to another with no words or fuss...just a matter of fact and no pause in conversation.

It is amazing how things from many years ago can still feel so fresh and accessible in our hearts.  

The ex has never wished any ill will on me and always expressed his desire that nothing come in my way, so I continue to pursue my art...in fact when I told him I was getting married, he wanted to make sure that The Barren would never snuff out my artistic desires or freedom of motion.

Then declared he was off to join the French foreign legion...hahaha

When I told him I couldn't have kids, he sent a sweet note that it was super sad, and wished it would be different for us.

He broke my heart 25 years ago, but in the middle of it all I had the strength to march onward with my head held high and find myself again and the person I was meant to spend my lifetime with. 

I am thankful, he in turn found his life mate too.

We have grown since then, said a lot of "I didn't mean that" and versions of "I'm sorry" and can now joke about things...

at least I can, in fact I still refer to a painting he gave me when we broke up as
"what I got in the divorce settlement"

I can hold my head up high, feel smart and do things without hesitation.

I can do all these things!

I was that girl

"A 23-year-old American college student who was killed in the Paris attacks was described as a “gifted student” by her teachers and beloved by her friends.

Nohemi Gonzalez was killed Friday night at the bistro La Belle Equipe in Paris. She was spending time with friends when a gunman opened fire on the scene and fatally wounded her."

When I heard about the attacks in Paris I froze, I literally could not process anything at all.
                                                                         *******

Many years ago, when I was in my early 20's I was a student studying in Paris, living out my dream of being an artist in the epicenter of my creative forefathers and foremothers. Eating bread and canned peas. Going to the museum everyday, drawing and dreaming and learning who I was and what I wanted from life and for myself. Kissing boys and crying and laughing. 

I was that girl who went to a concert in Paris, and got caught in a mosh pit and thrown to the ground, tossed from the chaos yet, alive fwith fear and desire for excitement. 

I was that girl who ate in a cafe and ordered an omelette in her best version of French.

I was that girl who smelt the night air and felt the magic of the city

I was that girl

And I am that very same girl, shaken to my very core when I heard what happened.

I cried a lot and wondered if that magic had been taken away

I felt as though something had blown up my memories of the sweet, 

nostalgia of the city of light

Someone had taken a dreamer away, pulled her from this earth before she could finish her dreams

I felt

I could imagine

I mourned a stranger

I mourned all the dreamers and strangers who were simply

living that night. Living and dreaming and hoping for more wonderful.

I am those girls

I am those boys

I am those children

Making white noise

So the very pregnant friend had her baby on Monday.

It was a boy, turns out the name they picked out was also the same name The Barren and I had selected for our wished one. It is not a common name so when I heard that was the name selected for a boy I did my best to hide my emotions and possession of the name,

When they announced that they would shorten the name to Gus I was relieved as that is not the love name we have used to shorten the given name...we had picked auggie.

Well, this morning she posted on social media that

 "Auggie was off to see the doctor for the first time since breathing air"

My heart sunk again and now I am struggling with hearing a name that I had held so deeply

and so silently in my heart for years.

How do you give away the name? 

Allow it to float away from your heart and the dreams that you had to say it to your own?

I have yet to visit...I am not sure I am ready yet.

They live just across the road so we can't use distance as a reason for not being there yet.

Until I am ready, more stable on m feet and in my heart.

I will make white noise and hold off

hold my heart

whisper my wishes

Today, tomorrow and many years ago

Today is the 11th of September

it is a big number here in the states.

It leaves me a little unsettled.

I was working at a company that distributed maps when the actual events unfolded 

and for the next year and a half my life was totally changed.

First we got calls from the military 

asking what we were selling and who could buy it.

Then we got calls from the news agencies from all over the world.

Then calls from military families often crying on the phone line asking, 

where these countries

 were that their loved ones were going to.

There were times when we had to call the FBI 

as some calls were requesting very specific kinds of details on maps.

Those were hard and scary.

I know it was best that I walked away from that job when I did.

I was scattered and emotionally spent.

Then in 2006, on this same day
before sunrise, 

and with heavy labored inhales I watched the final breath

 of my beloved grandmother.

She was in her bed, surrounded by family, completely on her own terms.

I had visited and spoken to her two days before.

We just told each other over and over that we loved each other.

It is a beautiful memory above the heartbreak.

This morning, before the sun rose

I got up and shimmed myself into my yoga clothes.

I drove into town for class and watched the sun rise as I 

took deep purposeful breaths with her in my heart.

She died from her lungs filling up...so every time I think of her last moments 

I try and send full complete breathe to her.

I always imagine that would have been the most compassionate thing to give.

A deep breath.

Tomorrow is my nephews birthday, he was born a year later

Life goes on

and on

Side Swiped

So it appears to be baby shower season...at least that is what it feels like.

When I got word of the first one, 

I put on my big girl pants, superhero cape and lasso of power 

and quickly said: 

" I can't go"

It felt powerful and right!

I was quite proud of myself.

What was ever cooler was that my SIL 

(who was throwing the party for her sister)

looked at me and said, OK 

and left it at that.

I was super happy that there was no drama

I made time one day and made the baby shower gifts, 

and packed them up way ahead of the event and laid that to rest.

The second shower invite is coming soon, 

I am not going to that one either.

The baby gifts are made and packed away too.

I have told The Barren so that he is well aware that I will be somewhere else,

doing something else.

Hopefully the mother to be will be distracted by her dozens of guests and not 

fixate on me not attending

(like I am that important)

The two mothers to be are very different, 

one got pregnant quickly and with no assistance

the other one, My SIL's sister, spent years trying and 

eventually got pregnant and was on bed rest the whole pregnancy.

When my SIL told me she was pregnant I was so happy fro her, when she said her sister was suffering from morning sickness I said that is great...I was happy for her, she was finally pregnant!

Her shower was to be tomorrow, she was driving my SIL crazy with her vision

of how everything should be. 

(on a side-note, I spoke with my mother and said that I TOTALLY understood this side of the coin. She has sacrificed her body, her finances, her relationship... everything to become a mother

...and now that she is one, she wants everything to be as she imagined it to be. It is her vision of the dream...she is wanting to be the pretty princess from the fairy tale, the happily ever after)

BUT... her water broke today and she is currently in labor.

Shower canceled.

I am finding that thinking about her becoming a mother has side swiped me with a lot of emotions

I thought I was past...or OK with but,

I was crying earlier...hearing in my head

That was suppose to be you

You will never be that woman in labor

you failed

I know that these are The Barreness creeping in with her spells and intoxicating words

I know that some of those things might be true,

but

I did not fail

The idea of this woman becoming a mother is bittersweet.

In my sorrow I texted her other sister, 

who is also infertile from secondary infertility

Just telling her that I was thinking of her, 

as I am sure today is a mixed bag of emotions for her as well

She thanked me for understanding the pain and emotion of the day.

Meanwhile,

The other mother to be is a rockstar, still doing crossfit at 7+month pregnant

feeling great and happy and dealing with everything like well, it is no big deal

She makes it look so easy

aside from her mentioning in conversations that well " because I am pregnant..."

I can even hang out with her and not want to punch myself in the face.

but today...today it might be harder

I know it will pass

and that a good sweat in class will clear this all out of my pores,

but today, today I just want to be 

free enough to feel my independence from these feelings again

Mementos of a weekend

Our first Sedar

I made it through! 

We made all the food in time, and was able to stuff the bellies of my parents with yummy food that was different and delicious.

The Barren made it home in time to cook the meat and fire up the BBQ for the fish and bones.

We worked together and made it happen.

My mother was beyond touched that I wanted her to do NOTHING but sit and enjoy a hot meal, 

my father got super emotional stating that he was deeply touched that The Barren embraced the rituals from day one with not an ounce of hesitation or question.

It was an emotional dinner

My table was set with dishes that we only use every once in a blue moon, because I love them so much, and we are like bears in the kitchen and break so many things. The candlesticks belonged to my great grandmother. They remind me of the Minoan snake goddess, and that makes me love them even more.  The tablecloth and napkins belonged to my grandmother, complete with stains from meals past. The matzo cover belonged to The Barrens grandmother, I am pretty sure it was not designed to be a matzo cover, but it is now and I am sure she is happy about it. The crocheted doilies were made by an adopted grandmother in Slovakia, as a wedding gift to us. 

It felt like I was calling all these loved ladies to the table to eat with us.

Have a hot Passover meal, put your feet up and let me spoil you.

This time of year

I decided when my mother asked if we could come over for a last minute holiday dinner that we would host the second night of the holiday at our home. Just the parents and The Barren and myself.

It will be the first time I have done this and frankly, it is exciting and scary and a little sad.

I have spent the last two days planning the meal and making accommodations for food preferences and restrictions and flavors.

I spent a good portion of last night and today going from shop to shop looking for very specific foods and goods, and have found that we do not live in a neighborhood that caters to a wide variety of ethnic goods.

I have brought it all home and put it in the fridge, and checked off all the items of the lists I made.

I am now making a timeline so that I know what to make when and time it all so that I can sit and enjoy the meal with the parents, instead of what my mother usually does which is sit for 30 seconds and then jump up to start the next item....never really engaging in conversation or being present.

All these years I was asked to do the same, so by the time the last member at the table got their dish of food, I was up with my mother/grandmother and readying the next course.

Sitting only for a moment to eat cooled soup.

I am gonna do it different.

I am the next generation, the one that has witnessed this ritual for 40+ years and wondered why gather all these people if you can't sit and talk with them.

I am not adhering to the strictest of the laws, or making sure EVERYTHING is specially made for the holiday. Instead I am making everything from scratch, with love and care and thought.

I think that is the most important part.

While I prepare for this meal and evening, I think about my grandparents and the grandparents before them, I think about the children that are not here to talk to about the holiday and 

why my we makes a big deal out of it. 

I think about how big the table of people use to be and how small it is now.

It is a strange sensation.

I am taking great pride in hosting this and carrying on a generations old tradition, yet, I am also

holding in secret, the sorrow in my heart for those that are not here.

Yesterday and the years before

***warning I talk about death and children***

Yesterday was hard....it wasn't suppose to be and I hadn't planned for it to be.

I got up at 4:15am to get ready for my yoga class...and as I normally do I check the news for accidents, check to see who the teacher for class is

 and social media while I wake up calmly and pull my hair up.

that is when I saw it....I read the words and then only heard a ringing in my ears:

"Goodbye My Love, I will miss you terribly. 

You found the second love letter card from me this morning but never got to open it.

My Wife of 14.5 years (+5.5 years dating) has passed away from heart failure today at noon. She has had health challenges for quite sometime, so this maybe some welcome relief for her.

She was a wonderful woman with a beautiful soul. She made friends easy and captured me on our first meeting with her boy on her knee.

I'm still in shock while I write you all this notice and I'll be back to tell you more later."

The person this husband is referring to was a dear friend from high school.

I met her in high school, she was in our art gaggle, and a talented painter.  She was the token headbanger and wore leather mini dresses and was quick to laugh. She had gotten a full scholarship to the local UC college but was unable to accept it, as around the same time, she became pregnant from a guy who wanted nothing to do with the baby.  She graduated and decorated her mortar board with the words "it's a boy". My bestest and I attended the birth of her son just a few weeks after we graduated. We were there to take photographs at her request. She had to give birth on her hands and knees as she was in a car accident* before getting pregnant and had hurt her back. 

We heard her labor and all she said was "ow that hurts"

She became a single mom, and was asked to move out of the family home as her father could not bare the fact that his daughter was unwed and a mother by the age of 18. 

She went back to school and became a nurse. It was then that she developed a severe latex allergy...so severe that she would pass out, from being unable to breathe, she finally got a service dog and it was these dogs that saved her from death many many times over. 

She still thrived, and found true love in a man that took every moment of the day to make her life wonderful, comfortable and fun.

Her son grew up, joined the marines and is now a sheriff locally.

She fought for animals, had a small menagerie of her own and crafted . 

She joined medical trials to find a cure for this horrible disease that was in every corner of her life outside of the joy.

She had developed seizures that would wipe away short term memories, and recently she passed out at their woodside cabin and had to be airlifted to the ICU, where they found she had low potassium levels. 

They were changing her medications and I guess the strain to her heart was just too much this last time and she left . Freeing herself from her body.

I was unable to think after reading her husband's words, I climbed back into bed and The Barren asked if I had had a nightmare and I whispered "Kara died" and let the tears fall down my face as he wrapped his arm around me. I fell back to slept with a heaviness in my chest that made it a labor to breathe.

When I work up I thought I had dreamt the whole thing...but it was not the case.

I spent the day quiet and watched downton abbey and ate and napped....I texted my bestest and we both agreed that we were really messed up from the news and would call each other later in the day to cry it out together. I was sitting curled in a blanket when the Barren came home and handed me a bag of kettle popcorn, he sat beside me and said nothing but simply shared the bag and we watched something on the screen. He made dinner for us: vegan pancakes and kissed me 

When my bestest called it was the best thing in the world to hear her voice. 

She remembered the car accident*: Kara and her best friend were in her beloved mustang stopped at a signal headbanging to some song on the tapedeck and got rear ended and they both got whiplash. They proudly came to school the next day with neck braces and laughing about it. 

I remembered us making the 1st birthday cake for her son and choosing bright green filling as it would make the biggest mess when he ate it !

The talk and the memories helped us both. 

My bestest said that although she had her son so young and it made her life rough, it was most likely one of the biggest wonderful in her life. As she was able to watch him grow into the man he is today. Giving her a huge sense of pride. If she had waited she might not have been given that opportunity.

I agreed and it made sense to me.

Hug your friends dear ones, hug the ones you want to but hesitate to.

Hug the ones you always hug.