My life changed 20 years ago today. Sometimes I think it was for the worse, but then again, I probably wouldn't be who I am today - writing this post. Years ago, I thought that this date would eventually mean nothing to me. It would hold no significance. Eventually, the memories would have to fade. It didn't work like that. Each and every October I look at the calendar and see that date. The 17th. There it is, looming larger than life - staring back at me. Now I don't think that I will ever not think about things on that day.
It's OK, though. I have made it twenty years. I have finished college and graduate school. I've had some wonderful and important jobs. I got married. I own a home. I have a family.
I am OK.
Oct 17, 2006
Oct 12, 2006
Hi Jason!
This post is dedicated to my friend, Jason. He is the only reader of my blog (even my dad stopped reading it). He also is a good person and a good friend - even though we live many miles apart.
We started work on the very same day back in September 2000 - and endured many hours in orientation. We had lunch together the day of my first date with my now husband (and he listened to me go on and on about how nervous I was). Together we watched the events of 9/11 unfold. I attended the baby shower for his first child. He and his wife attended my wedding.
That's a lot of big events in only 6 years!
So, for that (and all of the other unmentioned events, lunches, conversations, etc), I just wanted to say THANK YOU for being my friend. I wish I could see you and Angela more often.
We started work on the very same day back in September 2000 - and endured many hours in orientation. We had lunch together the day of my first date with my now husband (and he listened to me go on and on about how nervous I was). Together we watched the events of 9/11 unfold. I attended the baby shower for his first child. He and his wife attended my wedding.
That's a lot of big events in only 6 years!
So, for that (and all of the other unmentioned events, lunches, conversations, etc), I just wanted to say THANK YOU for being my friend. I wish I could see you and Angela more often.
Oct 9, 2006
I Cried Last Night
Saturday evening was the Light The Night Walk which supported the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I walked with my team - my mom, dad, and sister. It was a beautiful evening with the most perfect weather. It was a wonderful night because our team was able to raise over $1500, but it also was an emotional night - not even four months since she passed away. We were surrounded by all things cancer, so it was hard.
I got into bed last night and cried. I sobbed. I haven't done that since the day she died. I attended my stepson's baseball game - mostly to get my mind on something better than death. I only stayed for 30 minutes. I drove the short distance back home and as I pulled in the driveway I realized that I could no longer hold back the tears. I sobbed as I sat in the garage - fearful that the neighbor boy from across the street would stop by to say hi.
Last night was different. I wasn't sobbing because I had just lost someone I loved so much. I cried because all of the Light The Night prep work was over. I signed up for the walk just 5 days before she died. Ever since then my focus has been on organizing my team and raising money. Last night came the realization that it was over. The realization that now I needed to face the loss. Face the grief that I stuffed down inside me.
I am afraid to grieve - afraid that if I start crying I won't be able to stop. All I can think about was what my mom said to me the day before my aunt died, when we knew the end was near: "It's so sad. I'm just so sad."
I got into bed last night and cried. I sobbed. I haven't done that since the day she died. I attended my stepson's baseball game - mostly to get my mind on something better than death. I only stayed for 30 minutes. I drove the short distance back home and as I pulled in the driveway I realized that I could no longer hold back the tears. I sobbed as I sat in the garage - fearful that the neighbor boy from across the street would stop by to say hi.
Last night was different. I wasn't sobbing because I had just lost someone I loved so much. I cried because all of the Light The Night prep work was over. I signed up for the walk just 5 days before she died. Ever since then my focus has been on organizing my team and raising money. Last night came the realization that it was over. The realization that now I needed to face the loss. Face the grief that I stuffed down inside me.
I am afraid to grieve - afraid that if I start crying I won't be able to stop. All I can think about was what my mom said to me the day before my aunt died, when we knew the end was near: "It's so sad. I'm just so sad."
Sep 21, 2006
Grandma
When I was a little girl, I was fortunate to live very close to my grandma, and therefore, got to spend a lot of time with her. Each summer, my sister and I would take turns spending the night at her "house" - my aunt and uncle renovated their garage into her own little apartment. It was tiny, but so was she. She had her own bathroom and kitchen. She had a separate entrance into her place - it even had a working doorbell. It reminded me of a dollhouse. I loved it there.
The first time she invited me to spend the night, I was a little apprehensive. I was too young to attend sleepovers at my friends' houses, so I had never been away from my mom and dad. But she convinced me. She talked about this "magic bed" that I would get to sleep in and watch tv. A magic bed? What did it do? For the next two days I conjured up all kinds of images in my head. I finally settled on the idea that this bed would be able to lift me off the ground so I could see the tv better. That's it...I was sold! I couldn't wait to spend the night.
Turns out that the magic bed was actually just a cot. The magic part was that it could fold in half and be rolled into another room for easy storage. However, my cousin and I made it more magical by folding each other up in it and pushing it through the house. Ahh, the good old days...
I've been thinking about my grandma lately. She will turn 89 in December. She's had a difficult time lately - dealing with the loss of her daughter and now having to deal with the daughter she has left. The daughter she was never very close to. The daughter that she said cruel and demeaning things to over the past 60 years.
I was putting some makeup on earlier today and had a strange memory of my grandma. Whenever we would run errands with her (she never learned to drive), I would sit with her in the back seat of the car and she would reach in her purse. Over the years I learned that she was searching for one of three things: 1) a tissue, 2) hard candy, or 3) her compact. Whenever she pulled out her compact, she would rub some powder over her face. I would watch her intently as she did this. Every time, like clock work, she would look over at me and put some powder on my nose. It smelled funny - almost medicinal - but I loved it. I loved to listen to the "click" the compact made when she shut it closed.
When I was old enough to wear makeup (and buy my own), I bought the same compact my grandma used. I've never used anything else. It reminds me of her. I think it always will.
The first time she invited me to spend the night, I was a little apprehensive. I was too young to attend sleepovers at my friends' houses, so I had never been away from my mom and dad. But she convinced me. She talked about this "magic bed" that I would get to sleep in and watch tv. A magic bed? What did it do? For the next two days I conjured up all kinds of images in my head. I finally settled on the idea that this bed would be able to lift me off the ground so I could see the tv better. That's it...I was sold! I couldn't wait to spend the night.
Turns out that the magic bed was actually just a cot. The magic part was that it could fold in half and be rolled into another room for easy storage. However, my cousin and I made it more magical by folding each other up in it and pushing it through the house. Ahh, the good old days...
I've been thinking about my grandma lately. She will turn 89 in December. She's had a difficult time lately - dealing with the loss of her daughter and now having to deal with the daughter she has left. The daughter she was never very close to. The daughter that she said cruel and demeaning things to over the past 60 years.
I was putting some makeup on earlier today and had a strange memory of my grandma. Whenever we would run errands with her (she never learned to drive), I would sit with her in the back seat of the car and she would reach in her purse. Over the years I learned that she was searching for one of three things: 1) a tissue, 2) hard candy, or 3) her compact. Whenever she pulled out her compact, she would rub some powder over her face. I would watch her intently as she did this. Every time, like clock work, she would look over at me and put some powder on my nose. It smelled funny - almost medicinal - but I loved it. I loved to listen to the "click" the compact made when she shut it closed.
When I was old enough to wear makeup (and buy my own), I bought the same compact my grandma used. I've never used anything else. It reminds me of her. I think it always will.
Sep 20, 2006
The Heat Is On...
...literally. The heat came on the other day for the first time since early spring. Actually, I was forced to turn it on when the temp inside the house reached 63 degrees. So for the past two days it has gone on and off throughout the day - mostly just in the evening and early morning.
This serves as a reminder that fall and winter are bearing down on us. I walked outside yesterday to get the mail and I was slapped in the face with the smell of either burning leaves or someone running their fireplace. I'm leaning toward the fireplace since there really aren't many leaves that have fallen - at least not in my neighborhood.
I love fall. OK, I love the concept of fall - leaves changing colors, Halloween, football games, jeans and sweaters, food that is not cooked on a grill, etc. However, with it fall brings many other things I could do without. The number one thing is the shorter days. How I hate that.
The shortened days and darkness coming at such an early hour can sometimes set me into a "mini-depression." Having been diagnosed as clinically depressed at the age of 14, I know what the serious stuff is all about. This isn't quite like that - similar feelings on a much smaller scale. Maybe I only feel that way for a couple of days, a week at most. I seem to be able to pull myself out of it rather well these days. Having family around me is always good and I am able to busy myself with activities and hobbies that I enjoy. At 14, the depression and anxiety paralyzed me. I could not see beyond it - no family, no friends, no hobbies could have pulled me away from it. I was consumed by my emotions. I was consumed by my thoughts.
This went on for quite a few months. My parents (thank God for them) were on top of things and a combination of therapy and medication helped me. Things seemed to be OK again. Life returned to "normal," and I laughed and enjoyed my family and friends once again. I did slip a few times over the next few years, but never once returned to that dark pit I couldn't see my way out of years before.
On a brighter note, I absolutely LOVE Halloween. I love dressing up, but as an adult I don't have much of a chance to do it. However, I married someone who also loves it, and my stepson is at the age where he still loves it. In fact, the three of us dress up together. In 2003, we went as Batman, Robin, and Catwoman. In 2004, we went as characters from "Gilligan's Island." Last year, we dressed up as two T-Birds and one Pink Lady a la "Grease." We rotate turns and each get to pick the costumes. This year is my stepson's turn to choose. We are all dressing up as Elvis - he is "Jailhouse Rock" Elvis, my husband is the brooding, 1950's Elvis, and I got stuck with white jumpsuit Elvis. Hmm...this will be interesting to say the least.
This serves as a reminder that fall and winter are bearing down on us. I walked outside yesterday to get the mail and I was slapped in the face with the smell of either burning leaves or someone running their fireplace. I'm leaning toward the fireplace since there really aren't many leaves that have fallen - at least not in my neighborhood.
I love fall. OK, I love the concept of fall - leaves changing colors, Halloween, football games, jeans and sweaters, food that is not cooked on a grill, etc. However, with it fall brings many other things I could do without. The number one thing is the shorter days. How I hate that.
The shortened days and darkness coming at such an early hour can sometimes set me into a "mini-depression." Having been diagnosed as clinically depressed at the age of 14, I know what the serious stuff is all about. This isn't quite like that - similar feelings on a much smaller scale. Maybe I only feel that way for a couple of days, a week at most. I seem to be able to pull myself out of it rather well these days. Having family around me is always good and I am able to busy myself with activities and hobbies that I enjoy. At 14, the depression and anxiety paralyzed me. I could not see beyond it - no family, no friends, no hobbies could have pulled me away from it. I was consumed by my emotions. I was consumed by my thoughts.
This went on for quite a few months. My parents (thank God for them) were on top of things and a combination of therapy and medication helped me. Things seemed to be OK again. Life returned to "normal," and I laughed and enjoyed my family and friends once again. I did slip a few times over the next few years, but never once returned to that dark pit I couldn't see my way out of years before.
On a brighter note, I absolutely LOVE Halloween. I love dressing up, but as an adult I don't have much of a chance to do it. However, I married someone who also loves it, and my stepson is at the age where he still loves it. In fact, the three of us dress up together. In 2003, we went as Batman, Robin, and Catwoman. In 2004, we went as characters from "Gilligan's Island." Last year, we dressed up as two T-Birds and one Pink Lady a la "Grease." We rotate turns and each get to pick the costumes. This year is my stepson's turn to choose. We are all dressing up as Elvis - he is "Jailhouse Rock" Elvis, my husband is the brooding, 1950's Elvis, and I got stuck with white jumpsuit Elvis. Hmm...this will be interesting to say the least.
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