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Monday, August 19, 2019

You Can Run, But You Cannot Hide

You can run but you cannot hide.

One of my friends posted this statement over the weekend:
“Feeling the need to be busy all the time is a trauma response and fear-based distraction from what you’d be forced to acknowledge and feel if you slowed down.”

I admitted to her, and to myself really, that was exactly what I was doing this weekend, what would have been (on Friday), my parents 49th wedding anniversary.

Friday, I took a vacation day. Part mental health day, but mostly to spend the day with my Mom and keep her company (and both of us occupied).
We went out to breakfast, did some shopping, to the movies, to lunch, and then met a friend for dinner and then bowling.

Saturday, we flew to El Paso to spend with my Aunt and Uncle and so that I could participate in the “Tour De Tolerance,” on Sunday, an annual event put on by the El Paso Holocaust Museum.
I have participated every year since 2011.

Last year, the route changed and it went from the typical 5K route to what I call a desert trail route – It goes through the desert of New Mexico, away from the road, up and down sand dunes as if you running along the beach, surrounded by wilderness. I for one, was hoping not to see any snakes or other critters.

Since I walk and train on pretty solid and non hilly ground, the race is fun, but is also a challenge for me.
Where I normally set a time goal, for this one, I knew my limits and I decided to remove the time limit – I had no goal as far as time.
My goal was just to finish the race under the power of my own legs, and not on a stretcher!
Half joking, but half serious too.




I took a few breaks along the way, snapped some pictures of the gorgeous scenery – since I wasn’t going to set any time records for the race or for myself, the pressure in that regard, was off.

















I waited up for my Aunt and her friend every so often, helped all 3 of us up some pretty big (for us) hills of sand and rock.

After climbing one of the hills that was particularly steep (there were two of them), we needed all the help we could get.
“Help me, Moishe”
“Moses, take the wheel!”

By the time we saw the sign that stated “OH HELL!  You’ve come this far…you  may as well finish!” We all laughed and found our second wind.


Ironically, around the same time, playing on my MP3 was “Heaven Helps the Man” by Kenny Loggins and I thought, oh yeah…Heaven is definitely helping THIS man!

Part of the lyrics of that song
“Heaven helps the man who fight his fear…”
“Running away will never make me free.

“I’m shaking the past making my breaks
Taking control, if that’s what it takes

The song talks about a man facing a fear and taking control of his life.

I just love it when songs I hear during a race match what I’m feeling or experiencing during those times.

Shortly thereafter, when the trail running part of the race was complete and I was back on the road, “Hurts So Good” by John Cougar Mellencamp played.
Oh let’s talk about what “Hurts So Good!”

My Aunt and I modified the words to the Sound of Music to “the hills are alive with the sound of pain” and my personal favorite: “The dunes are alive with the sound of oy gevalt, oy vey es mir, OYYY everything!”

I have read how multiple 1s such as 1:11 or 11:11 on the clock, are signs of angels around you.
As I crossed the finish line, my official recorded time from the race, was 1:11.

In a weird coincidence, I started the MapMyWalk app on my phone late – a couple of minutes after I crossed the start line.
As I normally do, I got distracted after we crossed the finish lined, and forgot to turn it off.
By the time I remembered, it too registered 1:11 as my completion time.



After the race was over, I no longer had to think about “let’s just survive this” and my mind began wandering.
I unfortunately, had time to think, maybe for the first time all weekend.
I wanted to share the moment, share in the moment with my Dad.

He would have been so proud, going out of my comfort zone, and completing another race.When he was able, he would sit and wait for me at the finish line, my proudest and biggest supporter, just as my Mom was doing.

I began to think and miss him.
Friday was their anniversary and we stayed so busy all weekend, I did not allow myself time to think.
My goal was to stay distracted..to have a great time, which we did, but in a way, I ran away.

I felt this wave of emotion (a grief wave) approaching.  To gain some peace and clear my head, I left the sitting area, and walked around the school complex we were in...It was a huge sprawling campus, a complex of separate buildings. I found some peace in walking alone among the buildings, enjoying the scenery and the quiet. I felt particularly spiritual, a spiritual presence even. I heard the sound of the wind move across the school fields. It was the sound of calm. I communed with nature and I took my time, just cherishing the experience.

When we returned home late yesterday, the nonstop flurry of activity of the weekend finally caught up to me.
I was exhausted – not only physically, but mentally.

For the first time in a while, I noted my Dad’s missing presence at home upon our return.
I know some of this is in part because we are approaching the 2 year mark next month.

Actually, I noticed it even before we left El Paso.
I did not want to return home, I wanted to stay.
Returning home meant I would have to acknowledge and face reality.
We both would.

The more you run, the more you can’t hide.

Sunday, August 11, 2019

Back to the Past, and Back to the Future

This may be the first piece of fiction I believe I have ever written. All of my my writing, at least what I can remember, comes from my own thoughts, and feelings. My release from writing, comes from writing about my own experiences.
The below piece is homework from a recent therapy appointment. 
I have seen a therapist since my Dad died in September, 2017. 

Just as my grief has evolved over the past almost 2 years, so has my anxiety. I have reached a point in time where by my choice, I was ready to deal with some of my underlying anxiety that I have never dealt with before. I addressed and admitted to, for the first time ever, eating my emotions. 

I felt my grief change and this metamorphosis start to take shape a few months ago.

My therapist has given me homework before, but she never followed through to the point of "did you do such and such" .. She always left it up to me whether or not I did what was suggested. In the end, it was I who would either remain where I was stuck or be helped.  

I told my therapist, and some others I confided in, I could pinpoint the beginning of my emotional eating journey, even down to the exact conversation I had with my Mom. I explained some breakthroughs I had discovered about when I was in school, where I could trace the beginning of my emotional eating to the 4th Grade school year, down to the conversation I had with my Mom.
"I am going to eat now to comfort myself and I will just worry and deal with it later" 
-- I was 10!!
The homework was to interact with the younger version of myself, the one that began emotional eating and comfort him. She said since she knew I could write, she was looking forward to seeing what I wrote the next time I see her (in a month). It terrified me and made me want to panic. In fact, I told her I was panicking and anxious during that appointment when she gave me this - I did not want to revisit that time nor that anxiety.

Back to the Past, and Back to the Future
I walked up to the front door, and even though I lived there for many years growing up, I felt like a stranger. I saw the unpainted wood colored screen door that I once slammed to scare the bejeesus out of my Dad and I smiled. Some things never change.
I went to knock, and then decided I didn’t need to – I wasn’t a stranger, I was returning home.
Everything was as I remembered it – my Dad’s desk and his green office chair directly in front of me.
The faux wood oval shaped dining room table.
The kitchen and the bedrooms, down the hallway to the left.
This young man, perhaps even a boy was there as I walked in, sitting and eating some cookies.
He smiled, but I could tell something was bothering him.
It was me.
“Hi, Jeff,” I said.
You don’t know me, yet. But you will.
I am here from the future to tell you it will be OK.
Things will be OK.
I know you worry about a lot of things, about your Dad and his health.
About school and those bullies.
About your grades and wanting to do well.
You are going to survive.
You will not be the loner, the outsider like you are now.
You will be respected for the knowledge and empathy and compassion you share with others.
You need to care of yourself.
You don’t see it now, but you are starting to develop the strength that is going to carry you through your years.
I know you told your Mom you were going to eat your emotions, and deal with it later, but its OK.
Its ok to be upset.
Its ok to cry.
Its ok not to be OK.
In the end, it will all be OK.
I promise you, you are going to survive things you don’t think you are capable of.
But that inner strength you are developing will carry you far.
You see, Jeff, I am you.
And you are me.
I can’t disown something that is myself, so I am embracing everything that makes me, me. Including you.
The younger me, got quiet.
“You’re Me?”
“Yes”
“Like Back to the Future?”
“Yes, Exactly. Remember that part where Doc Brown tells Marty that he can’t change the past and disrupt the space-time continuum?”
“Yeah”
“Well, that’s true. I know you are lonely, and scared, and those kids at school don’t make you feel welcome. But I don’t want you to change a thing. You see, because part of what are going through, and will go through – will make you and me who we are today. We will grow from this.  And although you might not get all of this now – one day, you’re going to be the man that comes to this door and comes in and has this conversation with a young boy.”
You’re going to help that young, boy, as I am helping you.
“You’re me?”
“Yes”
“WOW! Its like the older brother I always dreamed of wanting!!”
“Yep, you can definitely think of me in that way”
“Will you be back?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I can tell you – that whenever you need me – I will always with be you. Just put your hand over your heart, and think of what you want or what you are having trouble with..and know I will hear you and know what you need”
I kneeled down to young Jeff’s level and we hugged, as I rubbed the back of his head and told him we were both going to be OK. It was going to be ok to let things go. 

After writing the above, I wrote:
I was terrified at the idea of writing this. It took me a few days to build up the nerve to write. Sundays for me I call Soulful Sundays. I am pensive. I tend to write, reflect on what I miss more about my Dad. He died on a Sunday. One Sunday morning, I sat at the computer and the story poured out. 
 

As I began to write and interact with the younger version of myself, I started to cry as I felt his pain, his pain was my pain. It was awesome to be able to put into words my love of time travelling and to see our apartment as it existed back then, in every detail. Then, it changed along the way as I continued to write. I discovered I wasn’t writing to him – I was writing to me. I was telling myself its OK to let things go, and not hold on. What I was scared of, I actually ended up enjoying – helping the younger of myself. ME Helping ME.  

I enjoyed it so much, I am hoping/planning to write more along these same story lines.

I am generally a perfectionist, and I feel my art is painting a picture with words. I write something, and then I go back and add "this" or change "that" to make it "perfect." However, this piece of writing was different..The story itself, I decided (and refused) to make any changes. I left it as is, in its raw and untouched form. It is exactly as I initially wrote it. I had no urge to change anything. It was perfect the way it was written. It made me realize - so am I.

 

Carry On, My Wayward Son, For There'll be Peace When You Are Done

I heard the song "Wayward Son" by Kansas play in the car. As I heard the lyrics, I related to them. I thought, that's me:

"Carry on my wayward son
For there'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more..."

 
My Dad and I both had quite extensive music collections on each of our computers.I found out we were very similar in this way after his death - we both had similarly categorized folders of music categories (Oldies, Soundtracks, Jazz, Rock etc)... When I combined his computer with mine, I moved his music over to mine, but I did not combine the folders. I didn't really touch his folders or look at them much -- I left them intact.

Today, in an an effort to connect with him, to distract myself from thinking too much, and maybe because I am just at that point in my grief and ready (he's been gone almost two years) - I integrated his music and mine. I listened to some. I deleted some songs that I had no interest in. I felt bad as I copied or deleted the first few files, like shouldn't I keep his stuff intact so I can listen to just his music. But then I changed my mind. He won't be here to listen to it or yell at me for touching his stuff (something I was infamous for and got yelled at many times over the years, especially when I was younger).

I changed my mind and the fear dissipated. As I combined his music with mine, I thought, it's a metaphor for how we go on with life after their death. We fight it at first, we want to go back to how things were and leave things the way they are. We want to, but can't. But we realize the best way to carry on their legacy, is that we, their children, are the best part of their legacy. We carry part of them forward with us. Just because there are no longer separate folders of Dad's music vs My Music on the computer doesn't mean his music isn't there. It is. His music is intertwined with mine, and mine with his. Amazingly, i found peace. You find a way to live among, and besides the grief. You find the motivation to combine song files and make them one.

Our favorite quote from the original (1978) Superman movie was the quote Jor-El said to his son Kal-El as he said goodbye to him and saved him from devastation on Krypton. We both routinely lived the last line as he aged and suffered from the effects of the cancer. We related to it so much I made it part of the eulogy I gave.

"But we will never leave you... even in the face of our deaths... the richness of our lives shall be yours. All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel... all this, and more I... I bequeath you, my son. You will carry me inside you... all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own, and see my life through your own eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father, and the father, the son.”

By working on and working with his music on my computer and combining his music and mine, I have done exactly that. I have always, but I carry my Dad within me. His memory, his strength, and now I carry his music within mine. <3

Thursday, August 1, 2019

The Circle of Life

I've now seen the somewhat live action remake of “The Lion King” twice.

Overall, I was happy with it. It did good. There were a few points where I felt the original had the upper hand, but it’s hard to match, or even surpass, an original.

A few hours later after seeing it, My brain and emotions were just starting to process what I saw and felt.  Obviously, I knew the story going into seeing it, so it was not a surprise. I knew what to expect.

I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head called “The Lone Tear.”

When you are missing someone who has died, there is this thing I call “The Lone Tear.”
You never know when it will hit.
A random song on the radio, or even a movie you see.
The lone tear can return, and usually does, without warning or any notice.

The Lion King is a lone tear moment.

The circle of life shown visually in the movie, is indeed, representative of the true circle of life we live and experience.

In Ecclesiastes, it is written, For everything there is a season:



The Lion King, like many of my favorite movies, is full of symbolism.

Scar is symbolic for the struggles and challenges in your life.
Scar is cancer, dementia, or Alzheimer’s disease.
Scar is when you lose your job or a relationship ends.
Scar is when someone you love dies.

In the movie, Scar is jealous of his brother Mufasa, and schemes to hurt Mufasa, and his son, Simba, any way he can. He feels entitled and that something stolen from him. In reality, he is the one stealing things from everyone else.

In my world, Scar is cancer and the fear of losing others in my life.
He tries to steal the joy that Mufasa and Simba share as Father and Son.
He tries to disrupt the lives of those who remain after Mufasa dies:
Simba, Simba’s Mother, and the rest of the Pride. You could actually make an argument that all of the Pridelands and the animals therein, were affected by Scar and his Actions.

As in life. The repercussions are largely impactful well beyond just the wife and son of the deceased when someone dies.  Simba loses his way. So did I. 

Mufasa's advice to his son is:
Look inside yourself, you are more than what you have become.
Remember who you are.
You are my son.

I have read and have stated, “The only known cure for grief...is to GRIEVE.”  By working on myself, By grieving, by grabbing and enjoying those little moments that aren’t so little, and by cherishing and enjoying the opportunities and moments life offers me, by living through the bad days instead of fighting them as I usually do..by being me is the best way to honor him.

Rafiki reminds him that his father lives on IN him.
Simba hears his Dad provide some needed advice, and remembers who he is. He reclaims his place in the Circle of Life and states that He is Simba, Son of Mufasa. I am Jeffrey, Son of Alan and Marion.  

But, I am so much more.
Like Simba, I am the best living testament to my Dad and Mom, and how they raised me.
Mufasa lives on through Simba.
My Dad lives on through and in me. 


When Simba takes his place on Pride Rock, he hears his father say "Remember!"
Today, I took my symbolic place on Pride Rock by giving up my Dad's shirts today so that they can be made into a blanket I will soon be able to use, a blanket made full of memories..and love.

On the days I am struggling, I try to remember and hear my Dad in his own voice, in my head, telling me:
"Don’t worry about the small shit, and it’s all small shit. There is nothing more you could have done. It was my time, Whizzo. I love you and am with you" 

I take my own place in life by enjoying life. 
Not only because my Dad would want me to.
Not only because I should.
Because I want to survive and thrive.

I ran across this quote recently in a grief group, and it's appropriate to close with here:

"Your parents defined you in so many ways and when faced with decisions their advice and wisdom will wash over you to the point that you can actually relive a memory and hear them helping you to grow into the adult you are now"

Thanks, Dad.
I didn't think I was ready when you left, and I still don't think I would ever would have been, no matter how much time I had.


But you gave me everything I needed to be successful - I just didn't know or realize it.

We must remember who we are.