I returned to work Monday evening after 4 days off, two regularly scheduled and two I took off to ensure my mental health was stable.
I felt good Monday evening after I came home but was looking forward to spending Tuesday evening with Wally again. In fact I felt so good that I wondered if I should've even taken the time off (I need to deal with my guilt issues). It wasn't til part way through my hectic Tuesday morning that I remembered I had a meeting in the evening. I was so disappointed. Not so much because I don't like meetings, I actually don't mind them most of the time, but because I just couldn't wait to spend time at home.
Home has become a comfort to me more so than normal over the past couple of weeks. And because I've been feeling a wee bit frazzled else where I have especially enjoyed it.
However, once I decided to stop being disappointed over something I couldn't change I felt better, (and I learned that embracing the obstacle is much less tiring than dreading it).
On my way to the meeting I began to think again of Bee's disappearance and death, of the loss of her spirit from this world and the wonderful, bubbly lady she was. I once again felt the pang of grief that so sharply wedged itself in my heart a week prior.
After the meeting I stood and chatted with a co worker about work stuff for a few minutes and then she expressed her sympathies over my friend and she empathized as she had lost her brother tragically a few weeks prior (an even deeper loss than mine).
Her words immediately found that grief pain and brought it to the forefront but in a good and healthy way. I talked a bit with her regarding the situation and just how hard it was to try and deal with and go to work at the same time. There was much to process and emotions to feel. Considering how many emotions people feel in any given job work was not the place to be going through them, especially with the fact that I, like many others, deal with people and their emotions for a living.
On my drive home I was shocked when sobs began escaping from my chest, moans of heartbreak and disbelief joined them. Initially I tried to stifle them but after just a moment I remembered I didn't have to, I was alone.
I let the grief pain take over. I allowed myself to feel it. All of it. I wept much like I did when my aunt passed. Like I did a year ago when I felt the world fail a young man and I had to witness him have an emotional and mental breakdown.
Not often do I have a need to weep. I have a pretty good life. No, I have an amazing life, with amazing people in it. I have much more than I could even need or rightfully ask for.
It is a clear reminder to me that you can have everything material that you need but when you lose a piece of your heart, you lose something you cannot replace, buy back or recover.
I think this must be why grief hurts so much and why you can feel it even when it doesn't appear to be something that belongs to you.
I have mentioned a few times that I didn't think I had a right to grieve so deeply over Bee. She's not my family. She was a friend, and as of late not one I kept close contact with, but one who was a part of my life for a long time.
I guess sometimes I wonder why things hurt so much even when we appear far from where the loss has occurred. I think I am realizing that our pain is often attached not only to the person but to the reality of their humanity and ours.
I ache because Bee was a living active part of my life for a long time. She was full of life, laughter, love and cared so much for people. I experienced all of these things from her. Now she is gone, no longer to be experienced in the same way on earth. There is one less person in my life to ask how I'm doing, to look at me intently when I tell a story or to sing a song I get to enjoy (yes it seems selfish but really grief is being sad over what we no longer have).
I remember when my aunt died, one thing I told Wally was that it was so difficult because I not only lost an aunt but I lost one of my cheerleaders. It's hard to lose those people.
Again though we grieve too over our own mortality. Over the fragility of life and of the relationships we share with others.
The other night Wally took my face in both of his hands and looked me straight in the eyes and said 'Don't ever walk away from me. Don't ever feel that alone.'
That truth is difficult to handle. Life must be nurtured and cared for. All of the time, not just when it's convenient. It is so easy to lose sight of this when getting wrapped up in the day to day, buying the groceries, walking the dogs, getting the car fixed.
When love is young you can't wait to express your love to the person you want to spend time with. You tell then every chance you get because you haven't had much time with them and you want them to know, with the time you do have, how much you care for them. As time goes on you take for granted that person being there, the fact that they arrived home from work just fine, or they will be there to have dinner with when you get home.
Grief is good for something.
It's good for reminding us how fleeting life is. How little time we actually do have with people on earth (in some cases this is good :)
I have learned and am learning to welcome grief in a sense. Not to welcome the loss but to welcome the reminder of what I already have so that I can not only be thankful for it but more importantly so I can nurture it, show my gratitude for it and hopefully be healed by this reality.
Grief has actually been a huge driving force in so much of my life thus far, I shall let it continue to do so.
Allowing grief to teach you doesn't make it easy to go through, but it can deliver hope for tomorrow.
Because you realize today is a gift only given today.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Miscellaneous
Well my few days off are coming to an end. I can't believe how taking two days off can give you so much time to think and examine things. (And how when you leave yourself in your house all day for four days , aside from grabbing a few groceries, you really find a multitude of things to do that you've been putting off).
Though I struggled with guilt over taking the time I am not so glad I did, for both myself and Wally but also for those I support. Even though I can't say I'll be stellar at my job or a shining example of the perfect support worker I do know that I should be able to keep my emotional composure under control and I hopefully won't be on the verge of tears at every turn.
While at home I've done many things I have been putting off. I primed the trim in our one spare room. I was supposed to also have painted 3 coats as well but I didn't wuite get that far. On Friday a lifelong friend came over to help me paint the kitchen.
She actually helped me completely redo the kitchen in our old house and because of the combined 29 hours of work over 2 days we were silly with fatigue and had a great bonding experience. I figured it would be a great way to create some memories here (maybe it'll be a tradition every time we move - she made me promise to stay in this house longer than we did the last after we had done all that work).
It was a simple job though and not too grouling (apparently that's not a word, forgive me). We had fun on the way home from lunch running into the bulk store for some much needed chocolate (you know to keep our engines going - Biggest Loser teammates don't be mad!). We had fun picking out our favourite treats and contemplating over them like it was our last chance in all of life to do so.
The funny thing is she's a stick and .... I'm not, yet she has never in my life ever made me feel less than her or different than her. We've known eachother for nearly 30 years and have been able to maintain that friendship despite our vast differences and many changes through life.
The fact that she had a son at age 16 and still went to college while raising him, with the help of her very disappointed and embarrassed parents. She was able to meet an amazing man who is an amazing father to her son and has maintained working in the field of her choosing very successfully as well. I admire her really.
It was a gift to spend time with her Friday, made more special by her honesty during lunch about her fears that our friendship would fade as Wally and I's lives had changed once we moved into the city. She also expressed wanting to spend more time together. That meant a lot to me. Both because she's not generally that forthright when it comes to feelings and that she really wanted to see me more.
True friends are gifts for sure.
Today after I gave up on the notions that I would actually paint after priming I moved onto the idea of cooking. I don't cook very much and when I do it's generally the staples. they are my new clean eating staples like a yummy stir fry or clean meatballs but really not many other dishes on a regular basis.
I decided it was time to experiment a bit with ingredients I'd bought months ago as well as on our last grocery run and see how it would go.
Unfortunately when I cook I like to do it during a one day period. SO instead of cooking Monday, Wednesday and Friday I'll cook all day Sunday. This isn't really the best for fresh food but it's what I do.
I made a Black Bean Soup (that I have yet to try), a Shrimp and Veggie Schezchan (I don't have the patience to look that one up) stir fry or pasta covering (it was great!), and a tofu /tomato/spinach pesto fiesta to go on pasta (also yet to try). I also cooked up chicken for Wally's lunches.
I learned that shrimp is worth the work of peeling and I wonder why I hadn't bit the bullet earlier to cook with it. That Everything tastes better with fresh foods and I can't wait to have my own vegetable garden this year.
Now I'm pooped.
I haven't mentioned this before because I didn't want to admit to being in the high statistic of people that don't keep their new year's resolutions but my facebook one 'only go on facebook once a day' didn't go as planned. Wally had commented on January the second that he felt that once a day was a little strict and that he would hate to see my social life hindered due to this rule.
Of course this seemed like a great reason to give up all together. And I did.
However, checking the most addictive social network on the planet 50 times a day wasn't really what I wanted for myself either.
Today I decided I would give another try at taming in my addiction. My initial goal was to only check it 3 times in the day but I would be happy if it were between 4-6. As it stands at 6:50pm I've checked it three times so I think I'll likely end up at a total of 4 times today. My ultimate goal is only 2 or 3 times a day and in time maybe less, but as it stands so much of what goes on in social circles is attached to it I doubt right now I will pursue less than that. Maybe a time will come when I will and if I feel the need I will abide but I'd say 3 times a day is far better than 50. I'll share how it goes.
I've had a lot of time to think as well.
Today I was particularly down. Wondering if I could ever find a job that would make me happy, or is it just me? I am yet to find an answer to that question but I will say that I am not done exploring.
There are a few ideas I feel as though I need to ponder and look at before I decide that happiness is only about the job you do. I feel, as I did with all of my other jobs, it's all in your attitude and your approach. This doesn't mean that you will find great joy in every job you do but that you can do anything and with the right approach, maintain an element of happiness. I know I felt that way while housekeeping and teaching piano.
I am wondering if there are things I can do to the part of my life that isn't related to my job to enhance my life at work.
Things I'm considering:
* Is media giving me a headache of sorts? Is it causing me to always be 'on' and not purpose myself to relax? Would I benefit from taking a prescribed break from it once in a while?
* Am I missing pursuing a spiritual life? Whether it be purposefully studying spiritual things or gathering with a group of like minded people (well a group of people that all want to grow at least). Do I need to seek out a church again?
* Am I spending enough meaningful time with friends? Could I be doing more to enrich old and current friendships, as well as establishing new ones?
* Do I new to try new physical activities that I've never tried before? Am I bored with what I am doing?
* Am I being responsible with all I've been given? Money, possessions, time, thoughts, people? Are there ways I could share more, be more responsible or creative?
* Do I have enough fun? Do I laugh often? What makes me laugh? Are there ways I can make this happen more? What do I find fun?
* Am I spending enough time with family? Am I staying connected to them, giving them what they need from me, taking what they have to offer?
* What makes me happy? Am I doing things that make me happy? If so, am I sharing my happiness with others?
I'm sure there are more questions I could ask myself but these are the ones that come to mind. Please share any thoughts you may have. Though I can't say I have a plan on how to answer these questions it could be an adventure of sorts learning what the answers are.
I'm actually kind of getting excited.
This could be fun!
Though I struggled with guilt over taking the time I am not so glad I did, for both myself and Wally but also for those I support. Even though I can't say I'll be stellar at my job or a shining example of the perfect support worker I do know that I should be able to keep my emotional composure under control and I hopefully won't be on the verge of tears at every turn.
While at home I've done many things I have been putting off. I primed the trim in our one spare room. I was supposed to also have painted 3 coats as well but I didn't wuite get that far. On Friday a lifelong friend came over to help me paint the kitchen.
She actually helped me completely redo the kitchen in our old house and because of the combined 29 hours of work over 2 days we were silly with fatigue and had a great bonding experience. I figured it would be a great way to create some memories here (maybe it'll be a tradition every time we move - she made me promise to stay in this house longer than we did the last after we had done all that work).
It was a simple job though and not too grouling (apparently that's not a word, forgive me). We had fun on the way home from lunch running into the bulk store for some much needed chocolate (you know to keep our engines going - Biggest Loser teammates don't be mad!). We had fun picking out our favourite treats and contemplating over them like it was our last chance in all of life to do so.
The funny thing is she's a stick and .... I'm not, yet she has never in my life ever made me feel less than her or different than her. We've known eachother for nearly 30 years and have been able to maintain that friendship despite our vast differences and many changes through life.
The fact that she had a son at age 16 and still went to college while raising him, with the help of her very disappointed and embarrassed parents. She was able to meet an amazing man who is an amazing father to her son and has maintained working in the field of her choosing very successfully as well. I admire her really.
It was a gift to spend time with her Friday, made more special by her honesty during lunch about her fears that our friendship would fade as Wally and I's lives had changed once we moved into the city. She also expressed wanting to spend more time together. That meant a lot to me. Both because she's not generally that forthright when it comes to feelings and that she really wanted to see me more.
True friends are gifts for sure.
Today after I gave up on the notions that I would actually paint after priming I moved onto the idea of cooking. I don't cook very much and when I do it's generally the staples. they are my new clean eating staples like a yummy stir fry or clean meatballs but really not many other dishes on a regular basis.
I decided it was time to experiment a bit with ingredients I'd bought months ago as well as on our last grocery run and see how it would go.
Unfortunately when I cook I like to do it during a one day period. SO instead of cooking Monday, Wednesday and Friday I'll cook all day Sunday. This isn't really the best for fresh food but it's what I do.
I made a Black Bean Soup (that I have yet to try), a Shrimp and Veggie Schezchan (I don't have the patience to look that one up) stir fry or pasta covering (it was great!), and a tofu /tomato/spinach pesto fiesta to go on pasta (also yet to try). I also cooked up chicken for Wally's lunches.
I learned that shrimp is worth the work of peeling and I wonder why I hadn't bit the bullet earlier to cook with it. That Everything tastes better with fresh foods and I can't wait to have my own vegetable garden this year.
Now I'm pooped.
I haven't mentioned this before because I didn't want to admit to being in the high statistic of people that don't keep their new year's resolutions but my facebook one 'only go on facebook once a day' didn't go as planned. Wally had commented on January the second that he felt that once a day was a little strict and that he would hate to see my social life hindered due to this rule.
Of course this seemed like a great reason to give up all together. And I did.
However, checking the most addictive social network on the planet 50 times a day wasn't really what I wanted for myself either.
Today I decided I would give another try at taming in my addiction. My initial goal was to only check it 3 times in the day but I would be happy if it were between 4-6. As it stands at 6:50pm I've checked it three times so I think I'll likely end up at a total of 4 times today. My ultimate goal is only 2 or 3 times a day and in time maybe less, but as it stands so much of what goes on in social circles is attached to it I doubt right now I will pursue less than that. Maybe a time will come when I will and if I feel the need I will abide but I'd say 3 times a day is far better than 50. I'll share how it goes.
I've had a lot of time to think as well.
Today I was particularly down. Wondering if I could ever find a job that would make me happy, or is it just me? I am yet to find an answer to that question but I will say that I am not done exploring.
There are a few ideas I feel as though I need to ponder and look at before I decide that happiness is only about the job you do. I feel, as I did with all of my other jobs, it's all in your attitude and your approach. This doesn't mean that you will find great joy in every job you do but that you can do anything and with the right approach, maintain an element of happiness. I know I felt that way while housekeeping and teaching piano.
I am wondering if there are things I can do to the part of my life that isn't related to my job to enhance my life at work.
Things I'm considering:
* Is media giving me a headache of sorts? Is it causing me to always be 'on' and not purpose myself to relax? Would I benefit from taking a prescribed break from it once in a while?
* Am I missing pursuing a spiritual life? Whether it be purposefully studying spiritual things or gathering with a group of like minded people (well a group of people that all want to grow at least). Do I need to seek out a church again?
* Am I spending enough meaningful time with friends? Could I be doing more to enrich old and current friendships, as well as establishing new ones?
* Do I new to try new physical activities that I've never tried before? Am I bored with what I am doing?
* Am I being responsible with all I've been given? Money, possessions, time, thoughts, people? Are there ways I could share more, be more responsible or creative?
* Do I have enough fun? Do I laugh often? What makes me laugh? Are there ways I can make this happen more? What do I find fun?
* Am I spending enough time with family? Am I staying connected to them, giving them what they need from me, taking what they have to offer?
* What makes me happy? Am I doing things that make me happy? If so, am I sharing my happiness with others?
I'm sure there are more questions I could ask myself but these are the ones that come to mind. Please share any thoughts you may have. Though I can't say I have a plan on how to answer these questions it could be an adventure of sorts learning what the answers are.
I'm actually kind of getting excited.
This could be fun!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
'Excuse me, where is it I could order some vitrue?'
When I was actively living out my Christian faith in the traditional evangelical 'she's saved, he's not' way I never felt I had issues surrounding my virtues or spiritual qualities.
By no means do I mean that I thought I had it all together but I at least felt as though I was trying and knew how I could try.
One thing that makes it a little easier is the 'rules'. Now a true at heart Christian would say the faith is not about rules, or it shouldn't be, 'it's about a relationship'. I completely agree that Christianity at it's roots and it's most true intention is about a relationship with a person that should affect in a positive way your relationship to all other persons.
The challenging part is that someone figured out that if you avoided doing this or saying that you indeed would benefit and grow certain virtues out of it. Therefore producing convenient formulas for people to live by.
Of course the Bible itself (the basis of which Christianity was formed or grew) is loaded with helpful hints and even 'commandments' or rules to which one should go about their life and actually prosper from.
When I lived predominantly in a Christian bubble, only thinking along the evangelical Christian way (which to me is just abiding by the given rules and not understanding necessarily why they are there or challenging them a bit), I realize now that I had indeed grown true and great virtues .... in many parts of my life.
But after a handful of years straying feet (perhaps more than a few feet) away from the traditional evangelical way I have realized that there are indeed virtues I never could acquire by just 'following in the rules' as I was taught or had experienced. There were other angles on 'the rules' that seemed to, in some ways, break 'the rules' while at the same time growing virtue that I could never grow had I not broken 'the rules' as they were given to me.
Which make me wonder if 'the rules' are really 'the rules' or if they were put out in the simplest understandable fashion for us so we would be more likely to at least follow the basic premise of whatever it was we were to follow. (Ok I'm getting mixed up myself right now).
For example: After I officially decided to live my life as a Christian I was told swearing was wrong. I read some Scriptures that talked about making sure what came out of your mouth was 'pure' and stuff and then about not swearing in the sense of making a pact (is that spelled right?) or promise. No where did it say 'Thou shalt not say the F word'.
However I didn't challenge my thinking on this and made every effort to not swear (meaning say the F word) this was an easy rule to follow (you know unless I stubbed my toe in the night and eventually I was able to fix that too).
It wasn't until years later, after being offended by every dirty mouthed person I came across, did I learn that the Bible never did say 'Thou shalt not say the F word'. I learned this by becoming good friends with someone who did say the F word several times in each sentence.
At first I noticed every time and I felt a pang in my heart with each one. As time went on I got to know my friend, who was surprisingly not planning on taking a sea voyage any time soon. I learned and saw in her genuine love and care for her family. I saw that she would give her time, energy and life to make sure those she loved were cared for, including me.
It was through her I learned other virtues I didn't have and I realized just because she didn't have the non existent 'Though shalt not say the F word' rule under her belt that I did, she had many others that I didn't. Other virtues that didn't seem to be given to us in one sentence forms.
It was soon after that experience I began thinking 'outside of the box o' rules' and started exploring the heart.
What better way to do this than .... to begin swearing. Once I realized that technically I could say any word I wanted and the meaning was really up to you (yeah this was a bit of a stretch but I felt justified) I had a great time using a great many a words I hadn't been acquainted with before.
It took quite a while for me be at peace with using my new vocabulary but I will admit I felt more in tune with the rest of the world. I seemed to understand it better and it's frustrations. I no longer had to be offended by hearing these words so much (well unless the person saying them was really angry and mean, then I would re write the rules). I honestly came to a place where I did not feel swearing was wrong.
And even now I tend to agree. However I realize it's not always lady like or polite to do so. (Wally HATES it when I swear, though he admittedly has let a few fly upon my new allowances).
It's not been until recently when I have begun to offend my own self with my learned and accepted behaviour. I realized I was using these words more out of frustration than out of pop culture talk. I conveniently chose them to release my impatience rather than other methods I used to use, and as I did so my frustrations an impatience has seemed to increase.
I'm not saying if you swear lots you're like me and lose your patience more (as mine can lead to outbursts of throwing something across the room), but for me that's what has begun to happen. Because though the actual words I am using aren't bad in and of themselves I have learned to associate them with negative feelings of being out of control, thus putting myself or making me feel out of control.
Being out of control is the opposite of a virtue.
Anyhoo, all this to say I miss not swearing when I'm angry, I miss not feeling in control and I miss having the 3 seconds of patience required between the frustrating event and deciding not to hurl something across the room putting my pets lives at risk because of my uncontrollable fit of 'ahhhhhh I can't handle this!'. (By the way I don't not throw things at them, I'm just saying they are often around and I don't generally take the time to see where a good place to throw the rubbermaid container that's in my hand).
Upon the realization of my lost virtue(s) I decided last night to google 'How to be more patient'. I mean how else would I learn this right?
The 'How to be more patient' page popped up with an 11 step process I could use to get to my end goal. Clearly the author had acquired patience but forgot the readers hadn't.
I am now pondering my (in some ways) abandoned faith. I say only in some ways because I am yet to walk away from Christianity and I have no intention of doing so. I have opened myself up to be more challenged by other views that in my past I have not allowed myself to look at as Christianity as I have known it wouldn't allow me to.
I am lucky (or blessed - this whole not being able to use the phrase lucky drives me nuts with super picky evangelicals) to be able to call friends Christians that mentor me in a way that is gentle, understanding and easy. Which makes up for the ones that I have in my life who are hard and fast and would read this thinking I am packing my fire retardant suit for eternity in my bags once I leave earth.
I am so glad for the journey we have on this earth and that the person I call God allows me time to search Him out for real. I am glad for the friends I have that formally call themselves Christ followers and the ones that don't realize they are already in how they live. By straying from the 'norm' in this faith I have met people in ways I would've never known them had I stuck to 'the rules' the way they were handed to me.
I am far far from perfect. And I never assume I will ever get there but I will continue to pursue better things, better virtue. If not to improve my life, to maybe improve yours.
By the way, I'm making up my own rule 'Thou shalt not throw things across the room when you're angry'. There I'm sure that problem is completely solved.
By no means do I mean that I thought I had it all together but I at least felt as though I was trying and knew how I could try.
One thing that makes it a little easier is the 'rules'. Now a true at heart Christian would say the faith is not about rules, or it shouldn't be, 'it's about a relationship'. I completely agree that Christianity at it's roots and it's most true intention is about a relationship with a person that should affect in a positive way your relationship to all other persons.
The challenging part is that someone figured out that if you avoided doing this or saying that you indeed would benefit and grow certain virtues out of it. Therefore producing convenient formulas for people to live by.
Of course the Bible itself (the basis of which Christianity was formed or grew) is loaded with helpful hints and even 'commandments' or rules to which one should go about their life and actually prosper from.
When I lived predominantly in a Christian bubble, only thinking along the evangelical Christian way (which to me is just abiding by the given rules and not understanding necessarily why they are there or challenging them a bit), I realize now that I had indeed grown true and great virtues .... in many parts of my life.
But after a handful of years straying feet (perhaps more than a few feet) away from the traditional evangelical way I have realized that there are indeed virtues I never could acquire by just 'following in the rules' as I was taught or had experienced. There were other angles on 'the rules' that seemed to, in some ways, break 'the rules' while at the same time growing virtue that I could never grow had I not broken 'the rules' as they were given to me.
Which make me wonder if 'the rules' are really 'the rules' or if they were put out in the simplest understandable fashion for us so we would be more likely to at least follow the basic premise of whatever it was we were to follow. (Ok I'm getting mixed up myself right now).
For example: After I officially decided to live my life as a Christian I was told swearing was wrong. I read some Scriptures that talked about making sure what came out of your mouth was 'pure' and stuff and then about not swearing in the sense of making a pact (is that spelled right?) or promise. No where did it say 'Thou shalt not say the F word'.
However I didn't challenge my thinking on this and made every effort to not swear (meaning say the F word) this was an easy rule to follow (you know unless I stubbed my toe in the night and eventually I was able to fix that too).
It wasn't until years later, after being offended by every dirty mouthed person I came across, did I learn that the Bible never did say 'Thou shalt not say the F word'. I learned this by becoming good friends with someone who did say the F word several times in each sentence.
At first I noticed every time and I felt a pang in my heart with each one. As time went on I got to know my friend, who was surprisingly not planning on taking a sea voyage any time soon. I learned and saw in her genuine love and care for her family. I saw that she would give her time, energy and life to make sure those she loved were cared for, including me.
It was through her I learned other virtues I didn't have and I realized just because she didn't have the non existent 'Though shalt not say the F word' rule under her belt that I did, she had many others that I didn't. Other virtues that didn't seem to be given to us in one sentence forms.
It was soon after that experience I began thinking 'outside of the box o' rules' and started exploring the heart.
What better way to do this than .... to begin swearing. Once I realized that technically I could say any word I wanted and the meaning was really up to you (yeah this was a bit of a stretch but I felt justified) I had a great time using a great many a words I hadn't been acquainted with before.
It took quite a while for me be at peace with using my new vocabulary but I will admit I felt more in tune with the rest of the world. I seemed to understand it better and it's frustrations. I no longer had to be offended by hearing these words so much (well unless the person saying them was really angry and mean, then I would re write the rules). I honestly came to a place where I did not feel swearing was wrong.
And even now I tend to agree. However I realize it's not always lady like or polite to do so. (Wally HATES it when I swear, though he admittedly has let a few fly upon my new allowances).
It's not been until recently when I have begun to offend my own self with my learned and accepted behaviour. I realized I was using these words more out of frustration than out of pop culture talk. I conveniently chose them to release my impatience rather than other methods I used to use, and as I did so my frustrations an impatience has seemed to increase.
I'm not saying if you swear lots you're like me and lose your patience more (as mine can lead to outbursts of throwing something across the room), but for me that's what has begun to happen. Because though the actual words I am using aren't bad in and of themselves I have learned to associate them with negative feelings of being out of control, thus putting myself or making me feel out of control.
Being out of control is the opposite of a virtue.
Anyhoo, all this to say I miss not swearing when I'm angry, I miss not feeling in control and I miss having the 3 seconds of patience required between the frustrating event and deciding not to hurl something across the room putting my pets lives at risk because of my uncontrollable fit of 'ahhhhhh I can't handle this!'. (By the way I don't not throw things at them, I'm just saying they are often around and I don't generally take the time to see where a good place to throw the rubbermaid container that's in my hand).
Upon the realization of my lost virtue(s) I decided last night to google 'How to be more patient'. I mean how else would I learn this right?
The 'How to be more patient' page popped up with an 11 step process I could use to get to my end goal. Clearly the author had acquired patience but forgot the readers hadn't.
I am now pondering my (in some ways) abandoned faith. I say only in some ways because I am yet to walk away from Christianity and I have no intention of doing so. I have opened myself up to be more challenged by other views that in my past I have not allowed myself to look at as Christianity as I have known it wouldn't allow me to.
I am lucky (or blessed - this whole not being able to use the phrase lucky drives me nuts with super picky evangelicals) to be able to call friends Christians that mentor me in a way that is gentle, understanding and easy. Which makes up for the ones that I have in my life who are hard and fast and would read this thinking I am packing my fire retardant suit for eternity in my bags once I leave earth.
I am so glad for the journey we have on this earth and that the person I call God allows me time to search Him out for real. I am glad for the friends I have that formally call themselves Christ followers and the ones that don't realize they are already in how they live. By straying from the 'norm' in this faith I have met people in ways I would've never known them had I stuck to 'the rules' the way they were handed to me.
I am far far from perfect. And I never assume I will ever get there but I will continue to pursue better things, better virtue. If not to improve my life, to maybe improve yours.
By the way, I'm making up my own rule 'Thou shalt not throw things across the room when you're angry'. There I'm sure that problem is completely solved.
Friday, January 21, 2011
My sick day
It's been years and years since I have 'called in sick to work'. In fact I think the only time I remember ever doing so was when it was required by ... toilet to comply. Since then I have not needed to.
As you know yesterday was different.
Usually one easily knows what to do on a regular sick day. I mean you're sick, so you stay in bed, sleep, have soup, sip gingerale and have naps all day. Perhaps with brief trips to the toilet for one end or the other.
Well yesterday wasn't what one normally is used to for a sick day. I knew beyond a doubt I should not be at work sharing my unstable emotional state with bursts of tears and fits of grief. I knew it was safer for all involved for me to take a bit of time to let my emotions have a rest and for my mind to take a break to solve the mystery of Bee's death and to rather just think on her life.
After the first couple of hours passed I admittedly felt guilty for taking the day off. I mean at that point I felt fine. Of course, I had to remind myself that 'at that point' I wasn't being frustrated by my perceptions of injustice of someone I was supporting, or solving a bank emergency, or dealing with someone yelling at me for not letting them have more for breakfast.
Nope, at that point I was home, in my pjs without any intention of being productive. In this scenario it was pretty easy to be 'ok'.
I wasn't exactly sure on how I should get myself better mentally. What's the exact prescription for one's mental or emotional instability at a given moment. The day before had clearly shown me that I needed to be home, away from the emotions of my job and pressures of being someone's support system.
Hmmmmm, makes me wonder if I can get myself a support worker....
Anyways, I decided that the first thing I would do in my day is something that would bring me joy.
For me yesterday, that meant collecting up and rolling the money I had received from 5 of the jars I had received back for Compasio. So I did.
I rolled more pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters than I knew even existed. After counting up all of the rolls and bills I had collected a $470 deposit that would be paired with at least a hundred and fifty dollar donation. This would put my Compasio total up to nearly $2000!!! I was thrilled. This indeed was a good activity to do to feel better.
Once that was complete I looked at the clock. Only 9am. I decided that if I was home sick I should sit on the couch in the living room with lots of blankets, the fireplace on and the furnace turned up a couple of degrees (you know, to prevent a chill) with a good book.
So I did.
I picked up a book I got for Christmas called 'The Happiness Project'. I'm 2/3rds of the way through and I was on a good chapter for the day at hand. Though it's not the best book I've ever read, it's given me tidbits of thought to chew on which I've enjoyed.
I read for a while. A whole chapter even (which is amazing to accomplish in one sitting these days). After that I thought I might be ready to blog my feelings which was yesterday's post.
By then the clock told me it was time to eat, so I did.
I then decided to watch pointless tv with my dogs.
I had a spurt of energy during this time so I cut up hundreds (at least it felt like hundreds) of boxes too big to put into recycling until broken down then I tied them up. We'd been avoiding this task since we moved. Now it's almost done. This felt good.
I then figured I bake Wally and I a clean treat. So I made biscotti. The house smelled so yummy.
After this I resorted back to blogging and wrote a post I have not and may not post. Then returned to reading with an interruption call from work. Then Wally came home.
By the end of the day I felt guilty for ever taking the day off. I mean I felt fine. I felt good. As long as I wasn't being stretched emotionally and didn't have to think about the tragedy that had occurred I was ok.
Except that in my job (and so many others) you can't go into work without daily being emotionally stretched. And if you are not 'ok' on a good day you certainly won't be 'ok' on a bad one.
I also realized the whole point of taking a day off was to recover and to feel better. The whole point is to feel better by the end of the day (or couple of days) than you did when you started your break. No one should ever feel guilty for taking care of themselves.
I am beginning to wonder though if more than a day off is needed. Is this field a good fit for me if my emotional and mental state can't keep up with it's demands? I'm not sure. I often compare myself to other workers and see nothing good in myself in this field. I often only recognize myself as a failure because I'm not as relaxed as some or because I don't love doing long trips. I feel bad that I don't care to do more time at work than I have to. I find myself so often admiring so many of my co workers and wondering why I'm not as gifted in this work as they are.
All of these are selfish acts as they focus so much on myself but they are things I think about.
I day dreamed today about taking a month of to just think and daydream and do stuff around the house. Just to live in my house and spend time with friends and help family that need it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing exactly what I should be doing right now.
I feel kinda bad for thinking these things. I know that taking a month off wouldn't solve my problems or reveal all of life's truths, but it does get me excited to think about.
My hope is that perhaps I can settle my mind a bit more in the days to come so I can enjoy the life I have more and know where my limits lie. What's best for me.
If you could wish to do something different for a little while, what would it be?
As you know yesterday was different.
Usually one easily knows what to do on a regular sick day. I mean you're sick, so you stay in bed, sleep, have soup, sip gingerale and have naps all day. Perhaps with brief trips to the toilet for one end or the other.
Well yesterday wasn't what one normally is used to for a sick day. I knew beyond a doubt I should not be at work sharing my unstable emotional state with bursts of tears and fits of grief. I knew it was safer for all involved for me to take a bit of time to let my emotions have a rest and for my mind to take a break to solve the mystery of Bee's death and to rather just think on her life.
After the first couple of hours passed I admittedly felt guilty for taking the day off. I mean at that point I felt fine. Of course, I had to remind myself that 'at that point' I wasn't being frustrated by my perceptions of injustice of someone I was supporting, or solving a bank emergency, or dealing with someone yelling at me for not letting them have more for breakfast.
Nope, at that point I was home, in my pjs without any intention of being productive. In this scenario it was pretty easy to be 'ok'.
I wasn't exactly sure on how I should get myself better mentally. What's the exact prescription for one's mental or emotional instability at a given moment. The day before had clearly shown me that I needed to be home, away from the emotions of my job and pressures of being someone's support system.
Hmmmmm, makes me wonder if I can get myself a support worker....
Anyways, I decided that the first thing I would do in my day is something that would bring me joy.
For me yesterday, that meant collecting up and rolling the money I had received from 5 of the jars I had received back for Compasio. So I did.
I rolled more pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters than I knew even existed. After counting up all of the rolls and bills I had collected a $470 deposit that would be paired with at least a hundred and fifty dollar donation. This would put my Compasio total up to nearly $2000!!! I was thrilled. This indeed was a good activity to do to feel better.
Once that was complete I looked at the clock. Only 9am. I decided that if I was home sick I should sit on the couch in the living room with lots of blankets, the fireplace on and the furnace turned up a couple of degrees (you know, to prevent a chill) with a good book.
So I did.
I picked up a book I got for Christmas called 'The Happiness Project'. I'm 2/3rds of the way through and I was on a good chapter for the day at hand. Though it's not the best book I've ever read, it's given me tidbits of thought to chew on which I've enjoyed.
I read for a while. A whole chapter even (which is amazing to accomplish in one sitting these days). After that I thought I might be ready to blog my feelings which was yesterday's post.
By then the clock told me it was time to eat, so I did.
I then decided to watch pointless tv with my dogs.
I had a spurt of energy during this time so I cut up hundreds (at least it felt like hundreds) of boxes too big to put into recycling until broken down then I tied them up. We'd been avoiding this task since we moved. Now it's almost done. This felt good.
I then figured I bake Wally and I a clean treat. So I made biscotti. The house smelled so yummy.
After this I resorted back to blogging and wrote a post I have not and may not post. Then returned to reading with an interruption call from work. Then Wally came home.
By the end of the day I felt guilty for ever taking the day off. I mean I felt fine. I felt good. As long as I wasn't being stretched emotionally and didn't have to think about the tragedy that had occurred I was ok.
Except that in my job (and so many others) you can't go into work without daily being emotionally stretched. And if you are not 'ok' on a good day you certainly won't be 'ok' on a bad one.
I also realized the whole point of taking a day off was to recover and to feel better. The whole point is to feel better by the end of the day (or couple of days) than you did when you started your break. No one should ever feel guilty for taking care of themselves.
I am beginning to wonder though if more than a day off is needed. Is this field a good fit for me if my emotional and mental state can't keep up with it's demands? I'm not sure. I often compare myself to other workers and see nothing good in myself in this field. I often only recognize myself as a failure because I'm not as relaxed as some or because I don't love doing long trips. I feel bad that I don't care to do more time at work than I have to. I find myself so often admiring so many of my co workers and wondering why I'm not as gifted in this work as they are.
All of these are selfish acts as they focus so much on myself but they are things I think about.
I day dreamed today about taking a month of to just think and daydream and do stuff around the house. Just to live in my house and spend time with friends and help family that need it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing exactly what I should be doing right now.
I feel kinda bad for thinking these things. I know that taking a month off wouldn't solve my problems or reveal all of life's truths, but it does get me excited to think about.
My hope is that perhaps I can settle my mind a bit more in the days to come so I can enjoy the life I have more and know where my limits lie. What's best for me.
If you could wish to do something different for a little while, what would it be?
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Take care of yourself
I'm not sure how to start this post. Sad news is difficult to share...
This past Tuesday morning, after for missing for 1 week, police found Bee's body not too awfully far from her car, under the snow.
Apparently Bee's car was found behind a shed that was on the lot of a cemetery that was on a rural road outside of a small town. There are no apparent links as to why she would be at that cemetery. Now there is an autopsy being done on her body to see how she died.
No one will ever truly know why Bee called in sick to work without telling her family and then went off for a drive to a cemetery. However there will be many theories.
Only Bee and God know.
I wonder if she woke up that day numb from a previously bad day at work (so I've been told) feeling helpless to the overall solution. Decided to take her sadness privately with her to grieve any feelings of hopefulness that could exist, and went to think. Perhaps she just wanted to consider the thoughts of a hope filled life and thought of her spirituality and the promises that death with salvation hold (in her faith). Perhaps she just needed to spend some time alone with those promises.
I wonder if, while on a walk and thinking, she was overcome with emotion and was finally able to release the sadness. As she let go of the pent up emotions more were found. Maybe she continued to walk and walk hoping that a little more time and a bit more release would bring healing and maybe hope.
Is it then she lost track of time? Is it then she forgot about the in climate weather? Is it then she lost sight of where she was and couldn't find her way out of the brush?
Again, this is only a guess. A wondering at best.
It's amazing how finding her body can bring a sense of relief, a sense of peace (in some small way). While at the same time the confirmation of what people had really hoped wasn't true had indeed happened can be like a punch in the gut.
I sit here now trying to figure it out. Trying to understand why I feel particularly connected to her sadness, to her story (aside from the personal relational connection).
Maybe it's because I've felt that feeling hopelessness before. When I wondered if anyone would notice if I was gone. I remember the years I worked at the church how much I loved my job and yet was so distressed by it at the same time.
I loved the kids. They were a complete joy (most of the time). I felt privileged to know them in the way that I did. I loved hearing their take on the world. I loved making them feel heard and enjoyed.
One little girl told me after kids club one day 'Eva, you know EVERYTHING'. This gave me such a laugh but warmed my heart at the same time. They believed everything you told them, trusted you and admired you, just for who you were.
One day shortly after I'd announced that my time as their youth worker was coming to an end, Pastor D. and Bee's youngest daughter said: 'My mom said you are the best youth worker that we'll ever have because you really care about us and love God.' When I heard that that day, I knew I'd done my job well as this was not only coming from a parent of one of 'my kids' but from a woman who'd grown up in 'the ministry' as a pastor's kid and seen her share of 'paid staff'.
The down side to the job was going at it alone. Not having help or people that understood what I was doing. People saw you once a week and assumed that's all the work you put into it. They weren't around for the noon hour lunched I shared with different teens. Or when those teen stood me up. They had no idea how much energy was put into praying that the kid that just went down the tobogganing hill wouldn't crash into the tree. Or that so and so wouldn't sleep with her boyfriend at the ripe age of 14. They were there when all of my energy went into 'keeping it together' when everything was falling apart.
I remember the summer I'd realized I needed to take a month off. I'd realized I was burnt out. I went to some one on some committee who said they'd back me and in the end I had to face a mom of one of the kids in my group who was an elder at the church. She made sure I only got my two weeks of vacation and not a cent more. She also made it clear to me that there was no reason I should ever feel justified in taking that month off (even though I never took ANYTIME off at all in my time there).
I knew the pressures of working for a church at the level of a half time staff, but no doubt that wasn't as crucial as being the Pastor's wife who had better participate in the right amount of activities, dress appropriately at all times, parent her children to perfection and have the right attitude always on display.
Now I am not saying it was the pressures of church life that saddened Bee, I could never know that. Only that they are issues that she would've had to carry with her along with a job in the human services field. One that so often sucks that life out of you, even when you know it where you are meant to be.
I guess I just want to say that IF Bee was depressed or sad, I understand. If she wanted to leave this situation (unintentionally or not), I understand. If she just couldn't take the pressures anymore, I understand.
If you are wondering if I'm suicidal or depressed right now, don't worry I'm not.
I am deeply and profoundly moved by Bee's loss and especially the situation surrounding it. I've mentioned before feeling too deeply sometimes. Well, this is a time it is happening.
I don't get this way over everyone that dies. In fact some times I take on my mother's 'matter of fact' attitude about it. 'Yeah, they were 84, get over it, it was time for them to go.' And that's the end of it.
However in times where I can experience the process of their loss (if it is drawn out or unexpected) I feel deeply. I am thankful I'm not like this with every loss or I'd be in my bed all day. Sometimes empathy is a buggar.
I heard confirmation of Bee's death soon after it was posted on line. At first I felt nothing and I thought 'wow I guess I grieved early'. Then I went about my work day and with the emotions of where I was working mixed with the hidden emotions of my grief, I quickly realized I may need time. I carried through as I kept reminding myself that I had no right to be paralized by this. A co worker friend showed up out of nowhere to relieve me of my evening shift and she told me to go home. I didn't know what to do. What would I do at home? How could I justify this? Instead she offered to just be with me and that made things better.
It wasnt' until I went to work Wednesday morning and began to cry on the way I knew that I probably shouldn't have gone. I met the first lady I saw and by the time I was pouring her meds (as she was yelling at me - which is a normal thing) I was bawling and saying 'Please stop, I've had a bad week'. To which she replied 'Yeah, yeah, I've had a bad week'. I nearly made an error while I was at it and it was then I knew that I needed a day to just stop.
The problem was I didn't understand why. Why should I get a day off when it was someone else's grief, someone else's family? I kept reminding myself it's not about me. I shouldn't make someone else's problem my own.
However, today I sit here and write while I'd normally be working. Because I am lucky to be surrounded by people that understand the importance of mental health. The importance of not creating your own crazy.
I'm not sure why I feel so prone to breakdowns (or near breakdowns). I guess some people have better immune systems than others.
I do know that taking a day or two to take care of yourself when you need to is important. As important as life or death.
Today I am thinking of Bee with love and remembering her laughter and smile with joy. She is at peace in the arms of her Father.
This past Tuesday morning, after for missing for 1 week, police found Bee's body not too awfully far from her car, under the snow.
Apparently Bee's car was found behind a shed that was on the lot of a cemetery that was on a rural road outside of a small town. There are no apparent links as to why she would be at that cemetery. Now there is an autopsy being done on her body to see how she died.
No one will ever truly know why Bee called in sick to work without telling her family and then went off for a drive to a cemetery. However there will be many theories.
Only Bee and God know.
I wonder if she woke up that day numb from a previously bad day at work (so I've been told) feeling helpless to the overall solution. Decided to take her sadness privately with her to grieve any feelings of hopefulness that could exist, and went to think. Perhaps she just wanted to consider the thoughts of a hope filled life and thought of her spirituality and the promises that death with salvation hold (in her faith). Perhaps she just needed to spend some time alone with those promises.
I wonder if, while on a walk and thinking, she was overcome with emotion and was finally able to release the sadness. As she let go of the pent up emotions more were found. Maybe she continued to walk and walk hoping that a little more time and a bit more release would bring healing and maybe hope.
Is it then she lost track of time? Is it then she forgot about the in climate weather? Is it then she lost sight of where she was and couldn't find her way out of the brush?
Again, this is only a guess. A wondering at best.
It's amazing how finding her body can bring a sense of relief, a sense of peace (in some small way). While at the same time the confirmation of what people had really hoped wasn't true had indeed happened can be like a punch in the gut.
I sit here now trying to figure it out. Trying to understand why I feel particularly connected to her sadness, to her story (aside from the personal relational connection).
Maybe it's because I've felt that feeling hopelessness before. When I wondered if anyone would notice if I was gone. I remember the years I worked at the church how much I loved my job and yet was so distressed by it at the same time.
I loved the kids. They were a complete joy (most of the time). I felt privileged to know them in the way that I did. I loved hearing their take on the world. I loved making them feel heard and enjoyed.
One little girl told me after kids club one day 'Eva, you know EVERYTHING'. This gave me such a laugh but warmed my heart at the same time. They believed everything you told them, trusted you and admired you, just for who you were.
One day shortly after I'd announced that my time as their youth worker was coming to an end, Pastor D. and Bee's youngest daughter said: 'My mom said you are the best youth worker that we'll ever have because you really care about us and love God.' When I heard that that day, I knew I'd done my job well as this was not only coming from a parent of one of 'my kids' but from a woman who'd grown up in 'the ministry' as a pastor's kid and seen her share of 'paid staff'.
The down side to the job was going at it alone. Not having help or people that understood what I was doing. People saw you once a week and assumed that's all the work you put into it. They weren't around for the noon hour lunched I shared with different teens. Or when those teen stood me up. They had no idea how much energy was put into praying that the kid that just went down the tobogganing hill wouldn't crash into the tree. Or that so and so wouldn't sleep with her boyfriend at the ripe age of 14. They were there when all of my energy went into 'keeping it together' when everything was falling apart.
I remember the summer I'd realized I needed to take a month off. I'd realized I was burnt out. I went to some one on some committee who said they'd back me and in the end I had to face a mom of one of the kids in my group who was an elder at the church. She made sure I only got my two weeks of vacation and not a cent more. She also made it clear to me that there was no reason I should ever feel justified in taking that month off (even though I never took ANYTIME off at all in my time there).
I knew the pressures of working for a church at the level of a half time staff, but no doubt that wasn't as crucial as being the Pastor's wife who had better participate in the right amount of activities, dress appropriately at all times, parent her children to perfection and have the right attitude always on display.
Now I am not saying it was the pressures of church life that saddened Bee, I could never know that. Only that they are issues that she would've had to carry with her along with a job in the human services field. One that so often sucks that life out of you, even when you know it where you are meant to be.
I guess I just want to say that IF Bee was depressed or sad, I understand. If she wanted to leave this situation (unintentionally or not), I understand. If she just couldn't take the pressures anymore, I understand.
If you are wondering if I'm suicidal or depressed right now, don't worry I'm not.
I am deeply and profoundly moved by Bee's loss and especially the situation surrounding it. I've mentioned before feeling too deeply sometimes. Well, this is a time it is happening.
I don't get this way over everyone that dies. In fact some times I take on my mother's 'matter of fact' attitude about it. 'Yeah, they were 84, get over it, it was time for them to go.' And that's the end of it.
However in times where I can experience the process of their loss (if it is drawn out or unexpected) I feel deeply. I am thankful I'm not like this with every loss or I'd be in my bed all day. Sometimes empathy is a buggar.
I heard confirmation of Bee's death soon after it was posted on line. At first I felt nothing and I thought 'wow I guess I grieved early'. Then I went about my work day and with the emotions of where I was working mixed with the hidden emotions of my grief, I quickly realized I may need time. I carried through as I kept reminding myself that I had no right to be paralized by this. A co worker friend showed up out of nowhere to relieve me of my evening shift and she told me to go home. I didn't know what to do. What would I do at home? How could I justify this? Instead she offered to just be with me and that made things better.
It wasnt' until I went to work Wednesday morning and began to cry on the way I knew that I probably shouldn't have gone. I met the first lady I saw and by the time I was pouring her meds (as she was yelling at me - which is a normal thing) I was bawling and saying 'Please stop, I've had a bad week'. To which she replied 'Yeah, yeah, I've had a bad week'. I nearly made an error while I was at it and it was then I knew that I needed a day to just stop.
The problem was I didn't understand why. Why should I get a day off when it was someone else's grief, someone else's family? I kept reminding myself it's not about me. I shouldn't make someone else's problem my own.
However, today I sit here and write while I'd normally be working. Because I am lucky to be surrounded by people that understand the importance of mental health. The importance of not creating your own crazy.
I'm not sure why I feel so prone to breakdowns (or near breakdowns). I guess some people have better immune systems than others.
I do know that taking a day or two to take care of yourself when you need to is important. As important as life or death.
Today I am thinking of Bee with love and remembering her laughter and smile with joy. She is at peace in the arms of her Father.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
My therapy
Today I decided to give myself some therapy around my missing friend. I went back to my old church to be with the church family that no doubt would be going through a tough time today.
When I brought the idea of visiting up to Wally he wasn't sure about going himself. I understand why. We generally only go at Christmas time now and maybe once throughout the year if my extended family (who are musicians) are visiting and doing some special music. Otherwise I've distanced myself due to geography and the fact that initially it was a very difficult departure to make, quitting a job that I really did love. He didn't want to appear out of a display.
I knew though, for me, my only option was to go. To visit. To be. With my old church family and friends and to gain some sort of mutual support during this unsettling time. I needed to.
I set off this morning and went. As I rolled into the parking lot I wondered what awaited me. Would people be weeping? Would they have their heads down? Would they be able to even speak? I didn't know what discomfort may be behind the large old doors when I pulled them open. I soon found out.
I quietly entered only to meet two smiling greeters and little groups of old people milling about chatting quietly about the funeral of a long time member yesterday (a wonderful lady) and of course whisperings of Bee's disappearance.
For some reason I expected people that remembered me to know why I'd be there but the first person that greeted me had a bright smile and 'How ya doing? good to see you!' and a firm hand shake. Really? Hello, I'm here to pray, be somber and possibly grab some hope somewhere. Why the heck are you acting like nothing has happened? I was instantly annoyed.
I found my grandmother sitting with her love and a friend of hers. She expected me, knew why I was there and gave me a side hug. I sat and gave little waves to different people sitting through out the congregation (mostly kids I worked with). they seemed to know.
I was holding it together pretty well until a lady I'd worked very closely in the Sunday School came and sat down with her husband and our friends in front of us. She asked a heartfelt 'How are you?' I answered 'Alright' and hoped we'd connect without speaking and be able to chat later. Unfortunately she held my gaze and I completely lost it and began to silent cry until I couldn't breathe. I covered my face up to my eyes with my bulletin while she quickly gave me her hand and held onto mine. She would not let go.
I gasped for air which made it very obvious that I was not 'alright' and we sat hand in hand. Her not letting go of my eyes either.
This may sound like a logical womanly thing for us to do as we are friends but I have to say neither of us are 'that way' under any normal circumstances. We're both pretty tough, find emotions uncomfortable and read the other like a book and would prefer giving space knowing that's what the other one needs. We generally find comfort in these things. Today was different, but that was ok because it needed to be.
Though there were several people with tears, and a few with red noses, mostly people held things together and the service carried on with a light tone to it. I was glad there were a few that shared my outward emotions. I barely held myself together, and at times didn't even do that.
The choir sang a song that irritated me as much as anything they sang would. I was just not ready for anything spiritual at all. I just wanted to throw anything 'comforting' out the window. I'll be honest, sometimes it just makes me mad.
I was very impressed though that the choir even sang as Bee is a faithful choir member and quite musical, her voice and presence were noticeably missed. I don't know how they were able to stand and sing.
To top it off Bee's oldest daughter's mother in law is also in the choir and she was there, singing and stayed throughout the service. I really was impressed. I couldn't imagine.
I won't lie. The service itself, to me, felt cold and empty. Probably because Pastor D., even with a slow, quiet voice, was always so strong, paced and thoughtful in his speech. This is something that used to annoy me in our conversations but calmed me in his services. There was volume in his silences. Pastor D. wasn't there today though and the silences were gaping holes in the hour long time slot.
The gentleman that took the service did well considering the incredible pressure he must have felt. He did his best to delicately address the issue yet bring a light laugh at the same time. He mentioned chatting for 40 minutes with Pastor D. before the service and shared bits and pieces of that conversation. It brought comfort to people knowing somewhat directly how the family was doing. And that was apparently quite well considering. He even shared Scripture that Pastor D. wanted the congregation to think on (one of the verses was Romans 8:28 my favourite 'All things work together for good to those that love the Lord').
The speaker even told of how the younger daughter of Bee (16 yrs) said 'If one more person asks me what they can do, I'm going to tell them 'Buy me a pony''. This brought a brief and needed chuckle throughout the church.
After the service I met up with my grandmother and half of the congregation at Wendy's only to over hear muffled talk of what I'm sure most older people (and maybe not so older) were thinking: 'Well, I can't imagine her leaving her family. If that's the case how could she do that, just walk out?'. 'It's so strange for her to just disappear'. 'Blah, blah, blah...'
Though I've engaged in the same sort of discussion over the past few days hearing their banter bothered me to no end. It seemed so matter-of-fact and cold. This was somebody's mother, someone's daughter, someone's wife and all of our friend. How can we just talk that way? They seemed not to identify with the potential despair she was feeling (IF that even happened).
I can only hope my chatting was with heart felt feeling, empathy and care. Not that that would make me better I guess, but hopefully at least a wee bit more .... something.
I e-mailed three friends that I knew I could comfortably share my feelings with for my desired need for prayer. People that for one: would pray and for two: would not judge me for asking for prayer, not only for Bee's family but also for myself.
In the e-mail I had noted that I realized that it was likely selfish of me to request prayer when I wasn't directly involved in Bee's life anymore, but I had to admit that I was feeling more than I thought I could comfortably handle.
In response my closest friend said 'Eva you have a tender heart and you care, that's not selfish' (paraphrasing). I don't think of myself as tenderhearted ... at all.
I've discussed with Wally both my recent and past issues with heart wrenching situations that have come up. I have a history of not dealing with them very well emotionally. I call myself crazy (as I feel, compared to others, that's what I am). Wally told my tonight that he thought that I perhaps over empathize when others go through things and I feel what they are going through very deeply. I had never thought about it like that.
Yesterday I wept for ten minutes as I was curled up in a ball on the floor of the bathtub during my first shower in four days (don't worry I hadn't left the house during two of them). The water barely qualified as warm and there was little comfortable about it, but it was a place I could release without judgment, from myself or others. I love the shower.
There are two circumstances I feel as though I connect with easily and deeply and grieve greatly when they occur. Any kind of injustice to a vulnerable person, and those struggling with depression, especially if they are not seen as depressed. Likely because I've been both.
Or because I may be crazy. Who knows?
What I do know is that it pains me to see people in pain. It pains me even more to see people I love in pain.
I can only hope that I am sensitive enough to sense when I have the opportunity to be part of someone's healing rather than part of their infection.
As far as Bee's case goes I had a phone call tonight saying that her vehicle was finally found (after 5 agonizing days) but no Bee. The location has not been shared as the police want to investigate further before media are notified and evidence contaminated.
For now ... hope lives.
When I brought the idea of visiting up to Wally he wasn't sure about going himself. I understand why. We generally only go at Christmas time now and maybe once throughout the year if my extended family (who are musicians) are visiting and doing some special music. Otherwise I've distanced myself due to geography and the fact that initially it was a very difficult departure to make, quitting a job that I really did love. He didn't want to appear out of a display.
I knew though, for me, my only option was to go. To visit. To be. With my old church family and friends and to gain some sort of mutual support during this unsettling time. I needed to.
I set off this morning and went. As I rolled into the parking lot I wondered what awaited me. Would people be weeping? Would they have their heads down? Would they be able to even speak? I didn't know what discomfort may be behind the large old doors when I pulled them open. I soon found out.
I quietly entered only to meet two smiling greeters and little groups of old people milling about chatting quietly about the funeral of a long time member yesterday (a wonderful lady) and of course whisperings of Bee's disappearance.
For some reason I expected people that remembered me to know why I'd be there but the first person that greeted me had a bright smile and 'How ya doing? good to see you!' and a firm hand shake. Really? Hello, I'm here to pray, be somber and possibly grab some hope somewhere. Why the heck are you acting like nothing has happened? I was instantly annoyed.
I found my grandmother sitting with her love and a friend of hers. She expected me, knew why I was there and gave me a side hug. I sat and gave little waves to different people sitting through out the congregation (mostly kids I worked with). they seemed to know.
I was holding it together pretty well until a lady I'd worked very closely in the Sunday School came and sat down with her husband and our friends in front of us. She asked a heartfelt 'How are you?' I answered 'Alright' and hoped we'd connect without speaking and be able to chat later. Unfortunately she held my gaze and I completely lost it and began to silent cry until I couldn't breathe. I covered my face up to my eyes with my bulletin while she quickly gave me her hand and held onto mine. She would not let go.
I gasped for air which made it very obvious that I was not 'alright' and we sat hand in hand. Her not letting go of my eyes either.
This may sound like a logical womanly thing for us to do as we are friends but I have to say neither of us are 'that way' under any normal circumstances. We're both pretty tough, find emotions uncomfortable and read the other like a book and would prefer giving space knowing that's what the other one needs. We generally find comfort in these things. Today was different, but that was ok because it needed to be.
Though there were several people with tears, and a few with red noses, mostly people held things together and the service carried on with a light tone to it. I was glad there were a few that shared my outward emotions. I barely held myself together, and at times didn't even do that.
The choir sang a song that irritated me as much as anything they sang would. I was just not ready for anything spiritual at all. I just wanted to throw anything 'comforting' out the window. I'll be honest, sometimes it just makes me mad.
I was very impressed though that the choir even sang as Bee is a faithful choir member and quite musical, her voice and presence were noticeably missed. I don't know how they were able to stand and sing.
To top it off Bee's oldest daughter's mother in law is also in the choir and she was there, singing and stayed throughout the service. I really was impressed. I couldn't imagine.
I won't lie. The service itself, to me, felt cold and empty. Probably because Pastor D., even with a slow, quiet voice, was always so strong, paced and thoughtful in his speech. This is something that used to annoy me in our conversations but calmed me in his services. There was volume in his silences. Pastor D. wasn't there today though and the silences were gaping holes in the hour long time slot.
The gentleman that took the service did well considering the incredible pressure he must have felt. He did his best to delicately address the issue yet bring a light laugh at the same time. He mentioned chatting for 40 minutes with Pastor D. before the service and shared bits and pieces of that conversation. It brought comfort to people knowing somewhat directly how the family was doing. And that was apparently quite well considering. He even shared Scripture that Pastor D. wanted the congregation to think on (one of the verses was Romans 8:28 my favourite 'All things work together for good to those that love the Lord').
The speaker even told of how the younger daughter of Bee (16 yrs) said 'If one more person asks me what they can do, I'm going to tell them 'Buy me a pony''. This brought a brief and needed chuckle throughout the church.
After the service I met up with my grandmother and half of the congregation at Wendy's only to over hear muffled talk of what I'm sure most older people (and maybe not so older) were thinking: 'Well, I can't imagine her leaving her family. If that's the case how could she do that, just walk out?'. 'It's so strange for her to just disappear'. 'Blah, blah, blah...'
Though I've engaged in the same sort of discussion over the past few days hearing their banter bothered me to no end. It seemed so matter-of-fact and cold. This was somebody's mother, someone's daughter, someone's wife and all of our friend. How can we just talk that way? They seemed not to identify with the potential despair she was feeling (IF that even happened).
I can only hope my chatting was with heart felt feeling, empathy and care. Not that that would make me better I guess, but hopefully at least a wee bit more .... something.
I e-mailed three friends that I knew I could comfortably share my feelings with for my desired need for prayer. People that for one: would pray and for two: would not judge me for asking for prayer, not only for Bee's family but also for myself.
In the e-mail I had noted that I realized that it was likely selfish of me to request prayer when I wasn't directly involved in Bee's life anymore, but I had to admit that I was feeling more than I thought I could comfortably handle.
In response my closest friend said 'Eva you have a tender heart and you care, that's not selfish' (paraphrasing). I don't think of myself as tenderhearted ... at all.
I've discussed with Wally both my recent and past issues with heart wrenching situations that have come up. I have a history of not dealing with them very well emotionally. I call myself crazy (as I feel, compared to others, that's what I am). Wally told my tonight that he thought that I perhaps over empathize when others go through things and I feel what they are going through very deeply. I had never thought about it like that.
Yesterday I wept for ten minutes as I was curled up in a ball on the floor of the bathtub during my first shower in four days (don't worry I hadn't left the house during two of them). The water barely qualified as warm and there was little comfortable about it, but it was a place I could release without judgment, from myself or others. I love the shower.
There are two circumstances I feel as though I connect with easily and deeply and grieve greatly when they occur. Any kind of injustice to a vulnerable person, and those struggling with depression, especially if they are not seen as depressed. Likely because I've been both.
Or because I may be crazy. Who knows?
What I do know is that it pains me to see people in pain. It pains me even more to see people I love in pain.
I can only hope that I am sensitive enough to sense when I have the opportunity to be part of someone's healing rather than part of their infection.
As far as Bee's case goes I had a phone call tonight saying that her vehicle was finally found (after 5 agonizing days) but no Bee. The location has not been shared as the police want to investigate further before media are notified and evidence contaminated.
For now ... hope lives.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Hope
Well, I've sort of been avoiding this all day but I know it's something that is in my heart to share as it's been on my mind nearly every minute since I heard.
Wednesday morning I was at work doing a yearly training course. When it was over I checked my cell phone for any texts from Wally. Sure enough there was one waiting. But this time it was not the usual 'Miss you hope you're having a good day'. Nope. Instead it was one that made my stomach turn and my heart sink.
It said: 'I read in the paper today that Bee D. is missing'.
It took me a moment or two to put into context the name, but once I did I could barely believe it.
For 7 years I was a youth worker at a church. I did this over the span of eight years.
Pastor D. started working at the church 6 months after I did. We got to know each other quickly as he was quiet but forthright with what he believed. I was openly relieved that he was the 'real deal' in his faith walk and that I would get the privilege to work beside someone who would understand my heart and support my efforts. He was a good man.
Along with Pastor D. came Bee his wife and their two daughters, one who was 14 and the other was I believe just turning 6 years of age.
They were the perfect family. Bee was ever so obliging and never went without a smile and positive word (really, I NEVER saw her grumpy or negative ever).
I got to know them well as we shared a meal together early on and then went on to lead their girls in the mid week activities as well as on Sunday mornings for the 7 years I was at the church. I got to see them grow, mature and even see the oldest get married (well I wasn't at the wedding but you get the idea).
Pastor D. and his wife were always supportive and encouraging with my work at the church, as well as with Wally and his ministry, and even when he changed jobs. They were the first to praise and uplift us, see our hearts and cheer us on. I never felt intimidated or discouraged by them ever.
There was a point when the higher ups in the greater church government were changing rules that would in the end potentially cause me to lose my job. Pastor D. came to meet me all ready with a plan of attack so that I would be able to stay on as staff. He was going to defend me.
It was then I shared that it was time for me to leave me post as I felt lead to do other things with my life. Even then he and Bee graciously let me go.
Needless to say when I received a text saying Bee was gone without a trace I was upset, in shock and even nauseous. How could this happen? Where did she go? Did someone take her? Did she leave on her own? Why? How were the girls? How was Pastor D.?
I phoned Wally briefly but he had no more info than what was already shared. Though I wasn't involved in the situation I wondered how I was going to function through the rest of my 13 hr day (clearly I'm self centered - hopefully someday I'll grow out of this). I thought about just going home but realized that would do no good and truly I had no right. Worrying over a somewhat past friend was hardly grounds for 'time off'. Bee isn't directly a part of my life now nor is her family, other than the exchange of Christmas cards and letters paired with a hug at the church doors.
None the less my mind couldn't be tamed, nor my flip flopping stomach. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worried so much.
As the day progressed I shared my feelings with a couple of co workers to ease the boggling of my mind. I couldn't believe this was happening.
I went to bed Wednesday evening wondering if Bee would be found by morning. If she would come home or perhaps some trace of her would be discovered. I tossed and turned through the night with little sleep. If I, a distant friend, was this frazzled how were Pastor D. and his girls and family doing?
By tomorrow morning 4 days will have passed and the news stories about the disappearance are now running over and over with the same information. Bee called in sick to work without her family's knowledge and then was seen leaving around 8 am Tuesday morning. There has been no trace of her since. No credit or debit card activity, and no cell phone use. She's gone.
I won't express the speculations. Some, though always possible, are too offensive to me at this time and to be truthful are only guesses. Bee has struggled with depression this past year and has been treated medically for it. She was a nurse doing social work, who apparently was challenged by her ever stressful job. As many of us are.
My greatest hope is that she went somewhere to release, to de-stress, to renew, and she has every plan to return when she's ready.
My hope is that a job meant to give didn't take.
My hope is for a fairy tale ending.
It is with an unsettled and heavy heart I hope.
Please continue to pray for this situation and for the families left in the balance waiting.
I asked Wally what it must feel like to be in Pastor D.'s place right now, or even to be one of his daughters. His response: 'It must be maddening'. A perfect description I am sure.
Please hope with me. Hope doesn't expire, even when we do.
Wednesday morning I was at work doing a yearly training course. When it was over I checked my cell phone for any texts from Wally. Sure enough there was one waiting. But this time it was not the usual 'Miss you hope you're having a good day'. Nope. Instead it was one that made my stomach turn and my heart sink.
It said: 'I read in the paper today that Bee D. is missing'.
It took me a moment or two to put into context the name, but once I did I could barely believe it.
For 7 years I was a youth worker at a church. I did this over the span of eight years.
Pastor D. started working at the church 6 months after I did. We got to know each other quickly as he was quiet but forthright with what he believed. I was openly relieved that he was the 'real deal' in his faith walk and that I would get the privilege to work beside someone who would understand my heart and support my efforts. He was a good man.
Along with Pastor D. came Bee his wife and their two daughters, one who was 14 and the other was I believe just turning 6 years of age.
They were the perfect family. Bee was ever so obliging and never went without a smile and positive word (really, I NEVER saw her grumpy or negative ever).
I got to know them well as we shared a meal together early on and then went on to lead their girls in the mid week activities as well as on Sunday mornings for the 7 years I was at the church. I got to see them grow, mature and even see the oldest get married (well I wasn't at the wedding but you get the idea).
Pastor D. and his wife were always supportive and encouraging with my work at the church, as well as with Wally and his ministry, and even when he changed jobs. They were the first to praise and uplift us, see our hearts and cheer us on. I never felt intimidated or discouraged by them ever.
There was a point when the higher ups in the greater church government were changing rules that would in the end potentially cause me to lose my job. Pastor D. came to meet me all ready with a plan of attack so that I would be able to stay on as staff. He was going to defend me.
It was then I shared that it was time for me to leave me post as I felt lead to do other things with my life. Even then he and Bee graciously let me go.
Needless to say when I received a text saying Bee was gone without a trace I was upset, in shock and even nauseous. How could this happen? Where did she go? Did someone take her? Did she leave on her own? Why? How were the girls? How was Pastor D.?
I phoned Wally briefly but he had no more info than what was already shared. Though I wasn't involved in the situation I wondered how I was going to function through the rest of my 13 hr day (clearly I'm self centered - hopefully someday I'll grow out of this). I thought about just going home but realized that would do no good and truly I had no right. Worrying over a somewhat past friend was hardly grounds for 'time off'. Bee isn't directly a part of my life now nor is her family, other than the exchange of Christmas cards and letters paired with a hug at the church doors.
None the less my mind couldn't be tamed, nor my flip flopping stomach. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worried so much.
As the day progressed I shared my feelings with a couple of co workers to ease the boggling of my mind. I couldn't believe this was happening.
I went to bed Wednesday evening wondering if Bee would be found by morning. If she would come home or perhaps some trace of her would be discovered. I tossed and turned through the night with little sleep. If I, a distant friend, was this frazzled how were Pastor D. and his girls and family doing?
By tomorrow morning 4 days will have passed and the news stories about the disappearance are now running over and over with the same information. Bee called in sick to work without her family's knowledge and then was seen leaving around 8 am Tuesday morning. There has been no trace of her since. No credit or debit card activity, and no cell phone use. She's gone.
I won't express the speculations. Some, though always possible, are too offensive to me at this time and to be truthful are only guesses. Bee has struggled with depression this past year and has been treated medically for it. She was a nurse doing social work, who apparently was challenged by her ever stressful job. As many of us are.
My greatest hope is that she went somewhere to release, to de-stress, to renew, and she has every plan to return when she's ready.
My hope is that a job meant to give didn't take.
My hope is for a fairy tale ending.
It is with an unsettled and heavy heart I hope.
Please continue to pray for this situation and for the families left in the balance waiting.
I asked Wally what it must feel like to be in Pastor D.'s place right now, or even to be one of his daughters. His response: 'It must be maddening'. A perfect description I am sure.
Please hope with me. Hope doesn't expire, even when we do.
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