Final Gifts

I hated Statistics in college, thankfully this is not the Stats I am writing about. Blogger has a new format and it's interesting to easily see the stats of each blog post. No one ever read the ones tagged Death and Loss. I can't say I'm completely shocked. Who wants to read about death and loss? The bf and I are currently faced with a very sick family member once again and it makes me reflect on the past year. I think death and loss are such funny things, but it happens to EVERYONE at some point. Why do we feel so awkward talking about it? I am working very hard to challenge myself to be open about my own personal thoughts on the subject and hope to have more dialogue with people, not just via the blog.

Watching the 9/11 reflections on TV really had me worked up today. It is so interesting how people make sense of death and loss in such different ways. I noticed they only interviewed people who were able to draw strength from the horrible attacks. What factors are at play that allow some to rise above, draw meaning, and turn their hurt and loss into something that serves others? What is missing in those who are still out for blood, unable to cope, and honor those dead by living their best life possible?

After my mom died I read Final Gifts. It truly changed my views on dying and death, not in terms of heaven, hell, and afterlife. Rather, on how to approach those who are dying to make them more comfortable and in turn comfort oneself. I highly recommend everyone read it, even if you don't know someone who is dying right now, chances are you will someday. You can never be prepared to lose someone you love, but you can definitely have some understanding of the process before it comes. 

Fall Leaves, Fall

Fall leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leave speaks bliss to me

Fluttering from the autum tree.

I shall smile while wreaths of snow

Blossom where the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night's decay

Ushers in a drearier day.

-Emily Bronte

The past few days have brought the first taste of fall. The fall is my absolute favorite season. I love the leaves, crisp air, smell of fires, snugly clothing, and football. For some reason the onset of fall has me feeling very sad and emotional. During my mom's service there was a reading about how we'll remember her at all these different points in time. One of those times was the changing of the seasons. I didn't feel this way when summer arrived, but fall really has me missing her. It feels like I am getting further and further away from her. Fall means it was 3 seasons ago she was with us. Fall means it is almost a year since I've talked to her. Fall means the holidays are around the corner, the first time without her doing the Christmas shopping.

We were at the cottage, now Dad's house, this past weekend. It seemed oddly normal to be there without her bustling around cooking, cleaning, chatting, and shopping. It shouldn't seem normal. She shouldn't be gone. The reality is almost too much to bear when I really stop and think about it, but I will survive. I have to find the balance of missing her, remembering good times, and looking to the future. What other choice is there? Exactly. None.

Well, there is a choice, it might be time to visit the counseling center at DePaul.

I get by with a little help from my friends

I know this has been said before, but today I am thankful for my friends. A few weeks ago at my retail job a co-worker told me I harp on people and I would be more successful in whatever my future profession might be if I could reflect on that. This guy was my favorite co-worker, nice to everyone, and generally a good mood dude. I told him that I felt like I worked really hard and try to encourage others to as well. I was so shocked that he was bold enough to tell me this, and even more shocked that he felt this way. I went in the bathroom and nearly cried, lost sleep, and dreaded going to work with him the next week. The more I think about it, the more I feel like this may be true. I do nag the boyfriend, I do find myself stepping up and delegating, but I also try to encourage and say thanks.

Death is a funny thing. So is moving far distances. People the boyfriend and I were very close with  never once reached out to me when my mom passed. Now, understand that I told James I didn't want to really be fielding phone calls, but I am still kind of hurt about it. I would never say anything to them, but I'm not sure it's something I'll forget. No text, no card, no plant, no facebook message, basically nothing. Are these friends? How do we define friends? By convenience? Proximity? This is especially interesting when evaluating relationships when it comes to the wedding invite list. Do you invite people who only show up for the good times in your life and are non-existent during your lowest points?

Now, for the thankful part. I have made some great new friends and developed deeper relationships with acquaintances who are the best time to hang out with. Not only are they so fun, they really care. I hope I adequately express how much I value their relationships.

Today after leaving internship I had a new text from a newer friend. "Based on weekend's observations-you delegating breakfast duties, inspiring campfire games, and asking about my well being-I know you will be a great counselor, mentor and contact for all students you encounter. It's a perfect fit." This text was so uplifting and meaningful to me, particularly because of the above experience with my coworker. It felt so good to be validated in this way.

How can I have that type of impact on others? Who can you sincerely thank today?

Professional Identity?

I have so many things I want to blog about. My personal life, my internship experiences, and how they overlap. My first real boss told me everything I learned in undergrad would come full circle in grad school, everything would begin to make sense.  If I am really introspective I find this is true, and it kinda creeps me out. I hate having really long blog posts but I feel like I could type for hours about things I've noticed, am excited about, wonder about, or find upsetting. So for starters...

Where does your professional persona end and your personal identity begin? Are they one in the same? On a continuum? Totally separate? I have no problem giving advice to my friends, but I wouldn't give direct advice to my students. Can I remain neutral during family conflict? How do I use these new professional skills I've paid so much for when the stakes are high in my personal life, or the life of a loved one? I feel so young at heart and fear people take my excitement and seemingly carefree attitude as careless, immature, or incompetent. I look young too, and as much as people say first impressions don't matter, they really do. Should I cut my hair?

I act a fool around my friends, especially those I've known the longest. I have crazy opinions and have no qualms about sharing them. Now I am on the brink of becoming professional counselor. Will they be judging me "the counselor" when I act this way? Should I be typing like I think and talk in my authentic Rachel voice when this blog has been shared with my graduate student colleagues?

Many of these questions I am just beginning to consider and reflect upon. I wish more people would comment and let me know what they think! Are these ideas the type of thing we will discuss in practicum? Is this part of my quarter-life crisis? Is it a crisis at all or just the natural development of a person? Help!

I was very excited one of my professors is reading my blog, which gets back to the question above. I have thought about this quite a bit and considered starting a strictly school counseling blog, using a more professional voice. I decided to continue as I have been because this voice is authentically me. My personal life directly impacts who I am as a professional and vice versa. I started the blog to help reflect, set goals, save memories, and share with others. As I look back at the posts I am amazed by its evolution. From a carefree blog, to processing grief, and now reflecting and developing a professional identity. Hopefully it will have a little bit of everything!

I wish I could talk to my mom about this stuff, but we're not even going to go there today.

When will it get easier?

I miss my mom more than usual tonight. I miss the grandma my children will never have. I miss my friend. It doesn't get easier, at least not yet. Time for bed.

Who Says You Can't Go Home? (Bon Jovi and Sugarland, it's a good song, really)

Childhood home

My first post on this blog was August 2^nd, 2010, almost exactly a year ago. I started the blog to keep track of new exciting things the Mr. and I were doing in the city. I haven’t posted for quite some time, probably because the most recent posts were not exactly upbeat.  I typically have a cheery, sometimes sarcastic disposition, and lately things have not been so. I didn’t want to crowd the internet with ramblings of feeling sorry for myself and complaining. Now I am ready to blog again and talk about the exciting things happening in life, with only a few bits of complaining.

That being said, we are almost completely settled into our new place since the fire. We have been here for about 2 weeks and I found myself thinking that it almost feels like home. Which leads me to the question,  when does “home” become an apartment in a new city instead of your parents’, or in my case parent’s, home? Is it when you leave for college? When you get your first apartment? When you finally have “real person” furniture and belongings? When you feel independent? It really made me sad to think that my dad’s is no longer my “home”. I love my life, my new place, living with my future husband, and being independent. It is very strange, and I just can’t put my finger on it, but I guess this is what growing up feels like. Leaving behind childhood, what you used to know, and growing into a new, better, version of you. What I do know is that I am not that different from the little girl who grew up in Kentwood, MI and that no matter where my Dad lives, I can always go home.

And for a bit of complaining, it really sucks having to say my Dad’s house and not my parents’. I was thinking the other day what assumptions new people will make when they always hear me saying my Dad’s place, my dad this, my dad that.  AND, it is weird that Dad is now living at the cottage and sold the condo. That was pretty hard, because the condo had so much of Mom in it, but I know she is not in “things” rather, in memories and in us. I also can see how people might become hoarders.

Also, can someone please help me get my commas under control? I just never know when to use them or other punctuation!

*And, we set a wedding date: July 20, 2012. More to come on that in the next few posts! I do promise this will not turn into a wedding blog though. 

Funny How Things Work...

I wanted to call you today. I had some down time that I only get on Wednesdays and I was feeling like I hadn't talked to you for a while. I wanted to ask you how long you can leave thawed chicken breast in the fridge before you cook it. I wanted to tell you what's new with my work and school, and that my neck hurts because I still have that crappy pillow. 

When you have your first broken heart and feel so sad, thinking like you've lost something precious, feeling worthless, like the world can't continue, you think you know what longing is. It is horrible longing for that boy or girl to like you, to realize they're an idiot, to come back to you. That is nothing compared to the longing of grief. Longing for something that you know is unattainable, longing from the pit of your stomach, the core of your being.

Tonight I came across a poem after searching "longing and grief". The poem, "But Perhaps God Needs Longing" by Nelly Sachs was written  about "the longing for a lover and of the disappointment of lost love. After her experiences during the Holocaust, most of Sachs’s poems dealt with the destruction of European Jewry. She used her poems to express the deep sense of loss and grief that she felt and as a form of catharsis for the many emotions that she had experienced during the war years" (Endnotes.com). I felt like I really could relate to this because I have been using writing as an outlet too. It really came full circle because she was a survivor of the Holocaust which made me think of Logotherapy created by a Holocaust survivor, Viktor Frankl. The basis of his theory was developed during his time in a concentration camp and he posits that:

• Life has meaning under all circumstances, even the most miserable ones.
• Our main motivation for living is our will to find meaning in life.
• We have freedom to find meaning in what we do, and what we experience, or at least in the stand we take when faced with a situation of unchangeable suffering.^(Wikipedia) 

While I know this grief would not be categorized as unchangeable suffering compared to the Holocaust, I do try to keep in mind the power of  attitude like Frankl's theory suggests. But it's hard.

I apologize because this post was very scattered and in no way, shape, or form cited correctly.

Cheeseburger in Paradise

Photo: www.crazybeautifulcakes.com

Today is mom's birthday. Towards the end she was needing to eat more protein compared to the about zero she was used to eating. Dad would go to Mr.Burger every day and get her a cheeseburger and she truly enjoyed them. It was nice to see her have something she could enjoy when she was in pain and feeling down. She also was loving baked potatoes with cheese and sour cream and coffee ice cream. Coffee ice cream was her last meal the night before she passed away. I will always try to remember that she was still enjoying some parts of life as she slipped away from us. So today I picture her celebrating in paradise having a juicy cheeseburger, or may a cheeseburger cake? Who knows. What I do know is that I miss her terribly. 

Happy birthday mom!

The Blows Just Keep Coming

Warning, this is a bummer post.

I opened the file "Wedding List" to approximate how many invitations we would be sending and the first person on the list is, yup, you guessed it, Mom. No tears were shed, but it certainly reinforced the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach; like someone knocked the wind out of me; an elephant on my chest. Now I don't even feel like tallying up the number of invitations.

I can't bring myself to delete her from the list. Whelp, there's the tears. Great. Dad's cleaning the house and purging it of all her clothes and belongings, deactivated her cell phone, had Kim remove her Facebook. Isn't her loss enough, why do things have to radically change at the house? Why so fast? Hospice had their contracted company come within a few hours after she passed to take all the equipment. In less than half a day you couldn't even tell a sick person had been living there. In less than 2 weeks you can't tell a woman had lived at the condo for 8 years, the closets and drawers empty of her makeup, hair stuff, lotion, undergarments, sweaters, purses, jackets, shoes. Everything. All the craft stuff she was working on or kept around for when the grandkids visited, her sewing machine, tea, scarves. Next it will be all the little knickknacks women are known to collect and men are known to despise. I talked with her about how I was scared it wouldn't feel like home with her gone and now I feel like my fears are turning into reality. I guess it just won't be the home I am used to...

Even though it really makes me sad that he's getting rid of her stuff I stay quiet. She was his wife, it is his house, and he is there all the time. I suppose this is just how he is dealing with his grief, and so I pretend like it doesn't hurt when he fills another huge garbage bag to bring to Goodwill. For me, it feels like another loss every time he gets rid of something.

So tonight, I am not going to delete her from our wedding list. Tonight she still get's the number one spot.

The Little Things

Instead of writing an original post for today I thought I'd just post what I shared at mom's memorial. I think it makes an excellent blog post.

When I first sat down to write this, all that came to mind were things I was going to miss about mom and the things I won’t be able to do with her like random phone calls while walking to the train and hanging up quick when it comes, knowing she won’t be offended; trying new recipes and sending her pictures of them; emailing decorating ideas for our apartment that I’ll never actually do, or that James would never go for; going to the dollar store, big lots, thrift stores, and garage sales to find that deal on something I don’t really need; hearing about her weekly visits with Taylor, Megan and Daniel; and complaining to her about problems I know how to solve myself but just want to complain about.

The hardest part for me is coming to terms with realizing my expectations for the future were in vain. My mom was supposed to be the grandma, the first call when my babies are sick, even before the doctor; the one we see once a week, at every holiday, at school and sporting events, and on warm summer weekends at the cottage. She was supposed to be the one to help us pick our first house, pick the colors, and decide where furniture should go. She was supposed to help me make wedding invitations and hand write the addresses over a glass of wine, gather crap for centerpieces, go the menu tasting with us, laugh at the horrible presents we didn’t register for but will inevitably receive, and complain about my mother-in-law to, even though I love James’ mom, but there’s bound to be something. 

Mom would hate this right now; everyone only remembering the good, as though she were perfect. Yes, she got mad at us like any parent does. But I honestly can count on one hand the number of times she ever yelled at Kim or me. As far as mothers go, she was pretty close to perfect. She was perfect for me. Now that she’s gone I regret never asking her about her parenting philosophy, but when I reflect on our relationship it’s evident in her actions. She never nagged about homework, never forced chores on us, and never asked anything except to bring whatever was on the stairs up to bedrooms each day and to eat vegetables, but somehow I turned out ok. I know there were many times I disappointed her or made her sad, but she never yelled, lectured, held a grudge, broke down, nothing; just showed unconditional love.

The lessons she has taught me are small, daily things that will stay with me forever and my own children will probably carry with them. Always be kind to others, accept people where they’re at, help when you can, clean a little each day so it doesn’t build up, don’t nag (I am really working hard on this James, I swear), sacrifice dinner and a movie so you don’t have to pay someone else to raise your kids because no one will ever do it as good as you, clean while you cook, don’t use the dishcloth on the floor and put it back in the dish tub. While there’s nothing earth shattering about these lessons, I live them every day, so each time I have dinner cleaned up before we even eat I will remember her; when I am stressed because company is coming and I am forcing myself to wash the sheets I will remember her; and when I am home raising kids feeling guilty because I should be working to help pay off our student loans and mortgage, I will remember her.

 As I’ve grown older I have come to understand there is no love like a mother’s love. Had mom left us 4 years ago, I’m not sure it would have had the same effect, but I know when I have my own children I will understand a mother’s love even more and feel her loss even more. I can’t believe how lucky and blessed I was to have her as my mother. I thank God for picking her to be my mom.

Is this Real Life?

First the good news. I have had 2 internship offers, both at nice schools close by. I am going to accept the position at the closest, plus the counseling department seems a bit more organized than the other.

Now, on to the meat and potatoes. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and drive to Michigan for my mother's memorial service. This past week has been strange. I took my bereavement days, but have been attending classes in the evenings. All of my professors are aware of the situation and have been very supportive. It is strange because I have not really felt super sad all week. Some people might not admit this to the world, but I think we're going for transparency on this blog, right? I have had sad moments, like when I was writing my piece for the memorial, or when I started thinking about how I will soon forget what my mom's voice sounded like, or how her hands felt, or her laugh. But for the most part, my days have been somewhat emotionless. Am I coldhearted? Am I not processing, grieving, or delusional? I don't know, but I'm trying to not psych myself out over it. It is very strange when people ask me, "How are you doing?" and I say, "ok" and try to squeeze out emotions that they may be expecting. I am trying to make them feel better and give them what they want. Huh? Whaat? It is the same thing with the engagement. I am really happy and excited, but right now I can't muster up the enthusiasm that people seem to expect from a newly engaged gal. I feel like I am constantly trying to fake emotions to make other people happy. What is this called? Honestly, I kind of  just want people to leave me alone. On the other hand, I wonder why some friends haven't tried to contact me and really, really appreciate those who have. So, don't take any of this to heart friends!

I do know that I am grieving, my body is telling me. I have never had so much tension in my back and shoulders. I sleep alright, feel drained sometimes, and really driven to get school work and house work done. 

I often find myself thinking, "Is this real life? Is this my life?". It is probably time to make an appointment with the counseling center at school, after all, it's only five dollars.

Hiatus No More

The blog has been on quite the hiatus, not for lack of new experiences, but in attempts for it to not become depressing and a chore to read. Although writing can be quite therapeutic and provide catharsis for many, myself included, I just haven't felt like sharing with "the world", i.e. my 9 "followers". I have been writing though, in my personal journal, on loose leaf pieces of paper, and for mom's memorial.

Here are the quick updates:

• Came back from San Clemente
• Started classes
• Sent out resumes for internship
• Got Engaged Friday, January 7, 2011
• Bought a wedding dress
• Mom passed away January 22, 2011

The more I think about it, the more I feel ready to start processing her passing, and writing. If it is too sad, or not fun for you to read, then don't. When I look at the Top 10 Reasons I Started This Blog I remember the blog is not really for other people, rather to provide self reflection and preserve memories. So, be prepared for some not always fun posts in the future.

So this Thursday, I am thankful to have some type of outlet for my own grief. I am thankful for my family and friends who are so supportive and understanding. I haven't called many of you back, because I just don't feel like talking. I'm sorry. I will soon, I promise.