the reawakening

just a day. one day. that's all i needed to complete the challenge.

a year and half ago, i bought a book titled Do One Thing a Day That Scares You and i have done, to date, exactly two things. my second challenge was to live without social media for one day. i've done that before, but it was never on purpose. this time, it would be a conscious choice.

and, boy, conscious it was.

typically, i hopped on FB multiple times throughout the day for 5-10 minutes at a time. i'd be in between something and often scold myself for not just letting myself "be" for those moments, but it was an easy voice to shut off. so, on that first day, it was no surprise to have to stop myself multiple times from logging on. i realized how hopping on so many times affected my attention and how often i used this as an excuse to push off starting a project. this would then lead me to stay on social media longer than planned which would delay starting a project, if at all. then i'd beat myself up for letting another day slip by without getting to "that" (whatever "that" would be). at the end of that first day, i realized that i got SO.MUCH.DONE. i then decided to extend the challenge one more day. then, one more. then, one more, and now i'm at 4 weeks.

keeping myself off social media opened up a world i had forgotten about. it also made me realize how social media affected my mood, and living without it has allowed me to feel grief on a level i didn't think possible because i was present with every emotion. 

let me first say what social media i'm on. i have FB, instagram, and twitter accounts. FB was my only social media outlet for most of the last 10 years. i signed up with twitter over a year ago and quickly realized it made my blood boil faster than FB did, so i rarely went on it by choice. i signed up for an instagram account last year and have enjoyed that immensely as i use it for artistic reasons only. 

the internet is such an easy place to spread misinformation, and as much as i would like to lay misinformation at the feet of trump and his supporters, this issue belongs to everyone, even me. i have been called out more than once for sharing something on FB that was false. and, while i do try to take the time before sharing to do a quick search to see what other news sources are saying about a particular topic, things slip. having to research an article's authenticity takes time and that is scarce. lame excuse, but true.

so i went back to reading just the paper that gets delivered. i know i'm getting news that's at least 24 hours old, but i don't care. i'm reading from a legitimate source and i don't have to go research on-line to see if it's true. i trust the journalist at the Los Angeles Times to have already done that for me which is why they're the journalists and i am not. anyone can pretend to be a journalist on-line, and too many do. people also forget opinion is not fact. for this, we can thank trump and his supporters.

even though i'm reading the news from one main source, i still get enraged by whatever idiotic thing trump has done, thought, or said, but i then take that anger and release it by working on, and completing, a project, by playing with my children (imagine that!), by cooking, by going outside and watering my plants and smiling at the butterflies and birds. this is just a small example of what has changed and it has been amazing for my soul. by popping on FB multiple times throughout the day, i've been bombarding myself with all the horrible things that exist in this world. i was angry ALL the time. all.the.time. i felt like the end of the world was happening every day. i worried about the future. i couldn't believe how stupid our country had gotten. all this and more, every day, buzzing around in my brain. for 4 weeks now i have been free of this. do i still worry about the future? hell yes. but it's not all-consuming right now. i find myself more present than before in whatever i'm doing in the moment that i'm doing it.

i've been listening to music more and reading. reading! both for pleasure and academic. i've been writing. i rediscovered photography with my Canon A-1 film camera and, in those "in between" moments, i sit and stare at a wall or cuddle my kids. 

i have also been grieving. hard. i cleaned out closets and approached projects i had wanted to do since we moved 3 years ago and others that i've been wanting to get to for 15-20 years. going through decades of photos tossed me into a whirlwind of emotions. i found letters that my mom left me written by my grandfather and some by my good-for-nothing father. my mom had told me about these letters throughout my life, but i thought they got lost in either the multiple moves my mom made in lithuania or in a flood that she had some years ago. i never realized i had them for the last 10 years, and making this discovery crippled me emotionally for a while. i don't think i would've been able to feel so deeply if i had hopped on FB, nor do i think i would've been able to process my findings for as long as i needed. i'm not someone who hides her life or emotions, but what of it if i had posted about my find that day? people would have read it, commented on it (maybe), clicked "like" (maybe) and then my feed would've scrolled on, the sentiment buried. just like we bury our emotions with all these social media distractions throughout the day. is it any wonder depression has skyrocketed? we hide behind a screen curating our lives to be the best version we feel it should be. most of us hide the ugly, and for those of us who don't necessarily do that, creating a post about the ugly doesn't do justice to the emotion's reality and, so, you're still left kind of empty no matter how many "likes" or comments you get. it took a few days for me to process and accept finding what i thought was lost, and without FB as a distraction, i couldn't bury it all in my feed.

will i be off social media forever? no, probably not, but i went back to instagram about a week or two ago and discovered that i'm spending more time on it than before which made me realize that social media feeds my "all or nothing" personality. it's this "all or nothing" that has gotten me into so much trouble throughout my life. i'm afraid that i will struggle with any attempts to limit my time on social media. 

as a result, i repeatedly ask myself, do i miss facebook? and, honestly? not really, though i have missed communicating with a few people with whom i'd communicate on a daily basis. i've seen that the way the world is now, social media is how we communicate with people. is this good? i don't think so, but i don't know what the solution is. i feel the social media ball is rolling down a hill and there's no way to slow it down, much less stop it. i also don't know how high that hill is, but it's very obvious the more people we connect with, and to, on social media, the lonelier we, as a society, feel. i read somewhere recently that we humans need human interaction and touch in order to function normally. this is one of the reasons it is strongly encouraged to hug children as much as possible; it releases endorphins which helps with development. if we don't get "x" amount of touch per day, we can slip into depression. how much time do you spend behind a screen vs spending time with someone, getting/giving a hug, holding a hand, or giving/getting a kiss? i bet the former gets more time. i know for the last 10 years it did for me.

it's up to us to change what's not working in our lives. the internet and social media are addictive, and while i don't have an addictive personality, per se, i totally believe i was - am - addicted. my challenge now is to find a balance between being a part of this century and not losing myself. i didn't like being angry or upset all the time or, dare i say, finding myself jealous of friends' posts, but i did often come across useful information that i wouldn't otherwise see. i need to find that balance, and find a way to have more contact in-person and less contact via computer screen. i challenge you to do the same. 

Two Deaths, One Week

I started this last week with the sad news of the passing of my dear friend's step-father the day before - which was her wedding day. Her beautiful, emotional, and touching wedding that he was supposed to attend, but didn't. I ended the week yesterday afternoon finding out about a dear family friend's tragic murder in Sequim, Washington (along with her dog) 3 days ago by a young man she knew well. He was recently diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, hospitalized on Tuesday because of an incident where he attacked his mother with a pencil. He had been released the next day from where he went directly to Cynthia's house.

I am stunned to know someone who was not just murdered, but viciously so. I am beyond heartbroken that two families I know have lost a loved one unexpectedly. I am heartbroken that a friend has to start her marriage under such a dark cloud, and that another family has to grieve a loved one lost at the hands of another.

One thing that has made me take a step back is reading comments about the young man who murdered Cynthia. He is sick. He needs help. He needs medication. What he did is wrong. But he is SICK. People are attacking him and calling him names. They probably don't know about his diagnosis but it underscores how quick we are to judge. How quick we are to misunderstand.

Death is so final. I know this brings out a "Duh". But until someone in your inner circle dies, you can't understand the depth of that word "final." I didn't even understand completely despite the painful death of a close neighbor in 1996 from bone cancer and another very close family friend passing in 1999. To me, death was something that happened to others. Of course I knew I'd die one day, but it was in the abstract. When my mom died, mortality punched me in the face. Now, I know. And the depth of the word "final" keeps deepening because, at least, initially, in the first year or two (maybe three, I don't know) there are constant reminders: the empty car you have to sell, the clothes that need to be packed and given away, the books and furniture that need to be given away, bank accounts that need to close... I see all this and think, This will be my stuff one day. My kids will have to do this one day. My kids will feel this one day.

I want to say something inspirational but it all feels cliched. Life is hard. It is unfair. It gives relentlessly and take away mercilessly. We can feel or we can push away. I have mentally aged a lot since my mom's passing last year, and with each subsequent death, I understand more deeply that all we truly have is but this moment right now. Then, it's gone. And we have a new moment. Then, that's gone. And so the clock ticks.

We're so fond of compartmentalizing our lives, prioritizing what is most important to us. For many, it is money at the top of that "most important" list which then dictates every decision in order to reach that goal. I remember the day my mom died, I desperately kept counting the few dollars I found in her purse convincing myself that if I kept counting her money, she'd come back. Money is tangible. You need it. If I just held her money in my hand, she'd be coming back, right? But the fact is, no matter the way of death, you take nothing with you. No body, no car, no money. In the next place, these things aren't needed. Or maybe there's something better.

I can't make these families' pain go away as much I would like to do so. I told my husband last night when I broke the news to him about Cynthia that grieving is such a horrible feeling that I wish I could protect everyone I know from that dark, lonely pain. But I can't. So all I can hope to do is hold my wish deep in my heart for these families to find truth and honesty within themselves to help them cope with this journey. I also hope deeply that we, as a society, get serious about mental health. No one deserves the kind of death Cynthia got. She loved life. She loved to travel. She loved people. A big part of her reminded me of my mom. I hope she is flying free, laughing, smiling, forgiving.

grief ain't for the faint-hearted

today is 6 mo when i lost my mom. with my sister on one side and i on the other, we held her hands as she transitioned from this life into wherever we go when we die. i wish i could say that i am the only person in the world to have lost someone i love because it would then justify the darkness and the loneliness i'm left to navigate all by myself. it doesn't matter if you have siblings, a large family or a small one, the grieving process is one of the loneliest journeys we will ever experience.

i wish that i could say i've gained wisdom in these passed months, that somehow witnessing such a deeply personal experience gave me some sort of higher understanding of our world and meaning of it all, but all i have to show in these months is a lot of anger and resentment and hatred and frustration. i know this is all part of the grieving process and those who have lost before tell me it will get easier over time. somewhere i know this to be true.

my mother and i had a tumultuous relationship for most of my life. i would always joke that the first 24 hours of us being together were the best but then we would start to push each other’s buttons. my mom approached life with her heart and i approach it cerebrally. it took many years of analyzing to come to an understanding in my mind and heart that we both needed to live a little more like the other. i’m a work in progress. 

however, it wasn't until i had a baby (and thanks to years of therapy), that i began to relate to her on a completely different level. i didn’t necessarily turn to her for advice about baby stuff, but i would have days where i understood her struggle as a parent better. eventually, our conversations about politics and life would have a deeper meaning, and i found myself turning to her more often for advice on things that i didn’t think i ever would.

she moved to lithuania in 2008 and, because my family is the way it is, communication is done mainly via email (or text). at the urging of my therapist at the time, i made several attempts to alter this habit, but it was too easy to fall back into our old pattern. plus the 10 hour time difference made it difficult to establish a routine. excuses, yes, but our family's reality. i still check my email daily soon after waking up with a glimmer of hope that all of this was just a nightmare and that i'll find an email from her asking me where i've been and why i haven't written to her (which would always piss me off because she was the one who was impossible to pin down).

so i'm left with navigating these emotions. 41 years of emotions. i'm left with moments of hugging her clothes so hard against my chest desperately wishing i could stuff them into my heart to seal the hole so i could just stop hurting. or, in a rare moment of sitting in the car alone, blasting whatever music happens to be on with the hopes that it will drown out the sorrow. or moments when i, unexpectedly, find a still unopened package of ladybug barrettes she bought, ones that my daughter says she will hold in her hands all night while she sleeps. this then reminds me that my daughter’s last memories of her grandmother will be ones of her shriveling away because of cancer. then the guilt sets in that i have no right to even have such thoughts because my sister's kids, should she have them, will never have known their grandmother at all.

losing a loved one sucks. we will all experience it at some point and probably more than once. i wish there was a book to tell me exactly how this all goes down so i can study it and be done with it. the emotional tug-of-war and the two steps forward three steps back is tormenting. i've had exactly one moment of solace where i felt one with her, and one where i felt i began to understand the saying that a loved one is never truly gone. the person is the wind that sways the leaves, the bird that sings, and the deer that drinks from the stream. as i hiked through mt. talmapais a few weeks ago, i felt her around me and with me, and i felt such peace. since then, i try to remind myself of that peace, of that moment when i stood under a tree that would've taken her breath away, and where the raindrops fell from the branches on to my head and my outstretched arms. she was there with me, smiling with me, being present with me even if it was in a different form. i'm selfish and want her here so that i could laugh with her and hear her sing again. hell, so that we could even argue again and i can complain about how much she drives me crazy. but i have to settle for the breeze and the bird and the deer.

i'm grateful to have had what i had with her, warts and all, because for all the mistakes and the decisions she made that hurt me, she was the most unique person i had ever met. she taught me so many good things and, even in her death, she underscored for me that it's not what you do, it's how you do it. that this life is all we have. so how will i honor it?