Truth

8 05 2012


If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it?

- Dogen Zenji





Transcending Loss

21 03 2012

After I lost my sister, a dear friend gave me a book on grief.  It’s called, Transcending Loss by Ashley Davis Prend and has been incredibly helpful.  Dealing with the death of a loved one is not something I can encapsulate into a sentence or even a blog entry.  At least, not right now.  Or maybe I can on some days and other days I cannot.  Something truly valuable I’ve gotten from this book is that, yes, there are lots of stages of grief, but that no, you will not necessarily feel them in any certain order.  Sometimes, you’ll be in multiple stages at once; sometimes, you’ll revisit stages you thought you already passed through.  Dealing with death is weird, sad, frustrating, gut-wrenching, liberating, and–despite my trying to do so–impossibly indescribable.  So when this book lays out in front of you all of these things you’re feeling and does so in a way that says, “Yep, what you’re going through is pretty shitty and all of those thoughts and feelings you’re having are COMPLETELY NORMAL,” it just makes you feel so much better.

This morning, I woke up with a Garth Brooks song in my head.  My sister loved Garth Brooks.  The song accompanied an image of the three of us–my two sisters and I–standing with our arms around each other.  The film maker in my head sure does know how to direct a tear-jerker, right?

Anyway, it made me reach for the book, which I actually haven’t done in a month or so.  I opened up to different pages and am moved to share some excerpts of the book here.  Who knows?  Maybe it will even help someone else who is dealing with grief.

“After the stage of Shock, grievers commonly enter the stage of Disorganization.  This is the heart of grief, and thus the most difficult……You remember the good times and the precious, ordinary moments.  You remember the bad times and all the things you wish you had said that you’ll never be able to say now.  Some days are punctuated by gut-wrenching, bittersweet, lonely moments, but on other days, you don’t feel anything at all.  You might have nightmares, health problems, or irrational phobias.  You probably think that you’re going crazy and you may even want to die.  This is a particularly difficult stage since it seems endless and in fact it may reemerge, off and on, for many years.”

Like I said, it’s helpful to have your feelings validated and to know that no, you’re not going crazy–you’re just normal.  Here’s another passage that found me this morning.

“The point is that in the beginning, in the stage of Disorganization, things are not okay.  Life is not fine.  You are not doing all right.  Someone you loved dearly, someone precious to you, has been wrested from you, and your life is left in shreds.  If someone describes a griever to me by saying, ‘Oh, she’s so strong and together; she’s handling her grief really well,’ that’s when I worry.  I think someone is handling her grief well if I hear that ‘she’s terribly upset, she’s crying constantly, she’s falling apart.’  Emotion isn’t the problem to be fixed; it’s the natural response and the ultimate solution.”

Thank you, beautifully validating book.





Judgement in Every Drop

27 01 2012

So, anyone who’s been reading my recent posts on this site knows that I’ve been sick this week.  Really sick.  I thought that I’ve had a really bad cold, but now that I’m starting to finally feel better, I’m ready to admit that I most likely had the flu.  Ugh.  It knocked me out.  I’ve been the kind of sick that when I stand up, I realize that was maybe a mistake and I should just go lay back down.  I’m way better now, of course…but still feelin’ it.

I’m a huge fan of Ricola lozenges.  They are awesome.  But because of my congestion, I also got some Halls.  Halls are like my old standby.  They are comforting.  That’s what my parents used when I was growing up.  Ricola was something I found later–my coming of age cough drop.

Halls has done something new with their packaging.  Have any of you seen it?  On the outside of every drop’s wrapper, they have little sayings–”A Pep Talk In Every Drop!” they’re calling it.  Here are some of the phrases I’ve seen:

Go get it!

Dust off and get up.   

Get back in there.

Flex your “can do” muscle.

Impress yourself today.

Buckle down and push forth!

Now, I don’t know about you, dear reader.  But when I am the kind of sick where I can’t breathe through my nose, I’m headachey, and it’s exhausting just to make myself a bowl of oatmeal, I don’t want some pushy cough drop wrapper telling me to “push forth!’  Screw you, cough drop wrapper!  How can you come off all high and mighty?!  You don’t know how I feel!  Stop tellin’ me that all I need to do is just “get back in there!’  Geez.  The nerve.  Maybe my “can do” muscle needs a rest.  Did you ever stop to think about that?!  No?  I didn’t think so.

Maybe you should reconsider your campaign, Halls.  And I’ll help you.  (Contact me via the email address on this website to find out where you can send my check.)  Here are the types of things that should be written on cough drop packages:

Be easy on yourself.

Don’t feel well?  Stay home and watch a movie!

Take a break.

You look really cute under that blanket.

Close your eyes and relax.

Embrace your bed!

See, Halls?  It’s not that difficult.  Less judgement, more validation.  That’s what we all want–especially when we’re not feeling well.





Five Really Great Things About Being Sick

23 01 2012

Whew, that sick-haze around my noggin’ is startin’ to finally dissipate.  Hence, my optimism is thankfully returning.  But I digress.  I promised a list, and here ’tis:

1)  breakfast in bed (and lunch…….and dinner)

2)  the welcome realization that you cannot smell when you haven’t taken the garbage out in days

3)  unabashed usage of comfy pants

4)  sleeping between naps

5)  watching old James Stewart movies (old movies, young James Stewart….swoon…)

I guess the irony here is that now that I’m starting to feel better, I can really appreciate being sick.  But nothing beats feeling well.  ‘Cause let’s face it.  I’m an unabashed comfy pants wearer on my healthiest of days.  And that’s a big ol’ scoop of truth right there.





An Open Letter to 2011

31 12 2011

Dear 2011,

Suck it.

Love,

Amanda

 

PS:  2012 is gonna be incredibly beautiful.





You

27 10 2010

There are few things that are certain in this world.  But at least one is that you will live with yourself for the rest of your life.  And doesn’t it make sense to treat well the person you’ll spend so much time with?  Therefore, always handle yourself with forgiveness, kindness, and love.





An Open Letter to My Third Metatarsal

26 06 2010

Dearest Third Metatarsal (on my right foot):

Firstly I would like to apologize for having not been fully acquainted with you before the incident.  You seem like such a fantastic metatarsal, and if it’s any consolation, I’ve made much more of an effort to befriend not just you but your familiar on the left foot since your regretful injury.  What can I say?  We don’t know what we’ve got till it’s gone–or in this instance–badly, badly bruised.

But now that we’ve gotten to know each other a little bit, I feel it’s time to let you know how dreadfully sorry I am for all of those years of cheap-ass shoes.  Oh!  If I’d known that “saving” all that money by purchasing $10 shoes and walking miles and miles in them would only add up to me–years later–having to spend hundreds of dollars on custom made orthotics, well let’s just say, I would’ve made less trips to Payless over the years.  Oh, but there I go again–thinking of money!  What I should apologize for is simply not being fully aware of your importance, your abilities, and your needs.

Speaking of your needs, I had some questions.  Now, I know the doctor said I should stay off of you as much as possible, ice you, continue the ultrasound therapy, etc…  With all of that, he said that you’d be fully healed in three to six weeks.  Well, I’m certainly on board for making sure you get what you need!  I love you dearly and want nothing more than for you to be all comfortable and pleased again so that we can get around and be our active, frisky, and happy-go-lucky selves.  But I was wondering if we could talk about that time frame.  Um… would you be flexible with that at all?  I mean, if I throw in some light arnica massages, could we maybe move the scheduled healing up a week or two?  How about when I visualize you being contented and gratified?  Or even the little affirmations I’ve been giving you?  Is that helping?  Or is it your little joke–turning me into “that lady who talks to her feet”…?

Admittedly I haven’t truly known you all that long, but I don’t think you’d try to play a joke on me.  I feel like this whole thing is a bit of a misunderstanding-turned-accident.  So, now that everything is out there in the open, maybe we could put the pain aside and get back to being happy.  Yes?  I eagerly await your reply.  Until then, you shall remain in (er, higher than) my heart.

Respectfully Yours,

Amanda








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