Awaiting my daughter’s fate

Five years ago, my daughter was rushed to emergency surgery.  I was also in college at the time and was working on a poem for my creative non-fiction class. I wrote this poem while waiting to learn my daughter's fate. I am not the same person I was five years ago, but I wanted to share another part of my writing.  Poetry is not my forte, but this poem did represent what being a single mother feels like during a crisis; and sharing my poem helps me knock down the walls that still surround me.
Five years ago, my daughter was rushed to emergency surgery. I was also in college at the time and was working on a poem for my creative non-fiction class. I wrote this poem while waiting to learn my daughter’s fate. I am not the same person I was five years ago, but I wanted to share another part of my writing. Poetry is not my forte, but this poem did represent what being a single mother feels like during a crisis; and sharing my poem helps me knock down the walls that still surround me.

The Inferno Within

I stared into the empty waiting room,

Awaiting my daughter’s fate.

Two hours went by

Since they rushed her to the operating room,

The sound of the ticking clock

Pounded in my anxious head.

My young son was the only one around,

Seated innocently by my side,

Reading a book with his headphones on.

I did not dare burden him with my despair.

I sat alone with hope in my eyes and dread in my heart.

Years before when I dreamt of motherhood,

I never envisioned the loneliness and isolation I live now.

I imagined one parent to bandage our children’s “owies”

And a second to kiss them;

One to listen to their prayers

And another to turn off their light;

One to walk them down the aisle

While the other tossed out the rice.

Hand in hand, we would guide them through their life,

Proudly letting go as they headed toward their dreams.

Never did I conceive an empty house,

An aching heart, and three broken children.

What kind of man abandons his family?

I cook meals, help with homework,

Run them to appointments, wash their clothes,

Hold them tightly while they are sick,

And desperately struggle to make ends meet.

What dream of his could possibly replace

The needs and hearts of his own helpless children?

Don’t get me wrong,

There’s no other place I would rather be,

But it is nights like this that stir up my contempt and anguish.

I cannot help but believe my children deserve more.

The guilt sets in when I see my tired, weary son

Sleeping in the university library,

While he waits for me to complete my studies;

Or when he wants to watch a movie or play a game,

But my eyes, like a steel trap door, struggle to stay open.

I do my best to move on and leave the pain behind.

But a crisis or a trigger from the past will bring it all soaring back.

It’s the angst of knowing my children are scared and are hurting,

While knowing their father is too selfish to discern.

Every day as I grow strong, I hold their hands in mine,

And I realize it is all worth it, as I truly love them so.

I could never fathom leaving them behind;

Yet, my repulsion toward his apathy is profound.

And just like my daughter’s cyst,

I fear I, too, may begin to rupture.

I hold on tight and fight back the tears.

If I let go, I am afraid of what happens next.

But I must let go of these chains that bind me

To a coward and a louse.

The surgeon finally appears before me.

Good news! She is safe and sound ….. Relief!!!

As I walk into hold her hand and kiss her softly on the cheek,

I cannot help but see the other patients in recovery

With their friend and family gathered round;

And in my heart I am joyful and reassured,

But still somewhere deep inside me,

The toxic cinders from the past seem to smolder on,

Waiting for time to eradicate any embers left behind,

Opening the chimney for fresh air and healing to wander in.

Flashback to last weekend

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My favorite memories are the ones with my kids. I do not think I’ve been happier than when I’m just sitting and watching my kids embrace life. There’s nothing better than hearing my children laugh. I am looking forward to returning to the beach with them; but hopefully this time without all of the rain. Who am I kidding? I live in Washington state, I’m better off just hoping for no fog.

Cape Disappointment: my photo essay

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Amethyst – power…protection…wisdom…healing

Amethyst

 

For the past couple of weeks, I haven’t been feeling my best, but I’ve been ignoring the signs because I do not have time to be sick; so I do the best to pretend nothing is wrong in hopes that sickness will go on its merry way. There is so much I want to accomplish and being sick keeps me from getting things done.

Being a single mom, I truly do not have time for sickness.  I’m the one who needs to always have it together.  I’m the mom, not the child. Even though I have been struggling to breathe the past week or so, I made it to my woman’s book group Friday night.  I absolutely love my book group, as it is one of the highlights of my month.  I thought I could put on enough make up and if my daughter curled my hair for me, I would be able to make an appearance and no one would know I wasn’t feeling well.  It appeared I had succeeded until Malissa, a student I used to advise, walked up to me at the restaurant we were at.  She said she felt I needed something, and she handed me the most beautiful amethyst.  Purple is my favorite color, so I thought that’s why she had brought it to me.  However, she said it actually represented healing and she sensed I needed that.

I started to tear up.  What a thoughtful gesture; however, I never told anyone I wasn’t feeling well. Malissa is one of the kindest souls I know, and I know she will go on to be an amazing fashion designer, so I cherish the moments we have. That was one of the hardest parts when working with college students, they only come into your life for a brief time, but watching them grow into happy, independent adults has always been a blessing. I made the above photo as a thank you to Malissa and her intuitive kindness.

I wish I could say that I have improved, but as I write this, I’m actually waiting for my daughter to come home so I can go to the hospital. Nevertheless, the amethyst has brought me peace of mind.  When I was creating the photograph, I searched up what an amethyst stood for.  Healing was one, but it also stands for power, protection, and wisdom.  Maybe I needed the amethyst to protect me until I wised up and realized I needed medicine to get well. I need to remember that even moms get sick, and that sometimes I need to delegate and say no.  Everything I need to accomplish will still be there tomorrow.  Maybe while I’m recuperating, someone can figure out a way to clone moms, then I can sometimes take a nap without the guilt.

One last note, I made homemade chicken noodle soup in the crock pot this morning, so I have that to look forward to when I get home. Nothing is better for pneumonia than a beautiful amethyst, homemade chicken noodle soup, and hugs from my kids. Also, a little prednisone and a much needed Z-pak wouldn’t hurt either.

Found True Love at Last

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Woke up this morning with an awful chest cold and all I wanted was to pull the covers back over my head. However, to my amazement, I could hear my teenagers already up and at it. How could I hide from a glorious Saturday and miss out on time with them; I decided this cold was not going to ruin my day. Thankfully, I remembered my loyal friend was waiting less than 75 feet away – as I approached my Keurig, I stopped to thank my friend Lesa for introducing us last Christmas. My Keurig and I have always had a positive relationship – whenever, I am sick, tired, or grouchy – my Keurig faithfully makes my favorite coffee, tea, or hot chocolate. I never knew a relationship could be this good; I can only hope that others can be as fortunate.

I have to spend the day reading about ethics for my doctorate course and writing a research paper. If only my professor knew that if every person could wake up to a hot beverage from their Keurig, they might enter the world a little happier and slightly more ethical …. Hey, a girl can dream, can’t she? Before I immerse myself in my ethics books, I will share my last home remedy of the day. My days are always better when I start them off with my hot beverage and some Rob Thomas. His and also Matchbox Twenty’s music always gives me hope and just listening to Little Wonders this morning helped me to see how something as simple as my Keurig and my beautiful children’s’ faces can make even a crummy day seem even brighter. Happy Saturday!

Little Wonders by Rob Thomas

Let it go,
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don’t you know
The hardest part is over
Let it in,
Let your clarity define you
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

Let it slide,
Let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine
Until you feel it all around you
And i don’t mind
If it’s me you need to turn to
We’ll get by,
It’s the heart that really matters in the end

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

All of my regret
Will wash away some how
But i can not forget
The way i feel right now

In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away but these small hours
These small hours, still remain,
Still remain
These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away
But these small hours
These little wonders still remain

Dancing in the Rain

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Words of wisdom from my son today. #TBT of our 2012 Christmas trip over Snoqualmie Pass, Washington. I remember that we had a horrible blizzard that week, and they had just re-opened the highway. Friends warned us about driving over; yet, when we got to the top of the pass, hardly anyone else was around, and it was just so beautiful everywhere we looked.

Hours before our drive, I had learned my brother had taken his own life. I felt like darkness was looming all around; yet, when we reached the mountain pass, I can still remember the warm glow of the light, as if he was telling us that he was okay – he was at peace. I wish I could have saved him from his darkness, but I will always remember the beauty of the light I saw that cold, December day, and I will always remind myself that when navigating through darkness, light will eventually start to appear.

In the meantime, I will always try to learn lessons from those darkest moments. The light will then be more rewarding once it arrives, and I will be able to share its incredible warmth with others journeying down the same path. I know it’s cliche, but I have always enjoyed life more by dancing in the rain.

Naked & Ashamed

Naked and ashamed

Even though, I started my blog a year ago, I have kept it very quiet from my friends and family; I believe sharing my deepest thoughts and creative side can be a very scary feeling. Making a category on my blog and posting some of my essays for original non-fiction writings is like walking into a stadium full of people and realizing I forgot to put clothes on.  First, there will be a quick hush among everyone.  Some will be frightened for me and others will be frightened by what they see.  Others will cheer for my bravery and others will cheer because it wasn’t them that foolishly exposed themselves in public. In a stadium, I may have the chance to turn around and run and pray no one recognized me (though social media would capture my hideous mistake for eternity and track me down to find out who I am, so they could torture me with the photos and videos until the dire end), but by putting my writing and art out in the universe for my family and friends to see, I risk them seeing a part of me that they do not like.

Last Spring, I shared with a professor that the part of growing older that I hate the most is that I wonder if the person someone is sharing with me is their true authentic self.  The professor chuckled and said authentic people are an illusion and that I need to quit setting my standards so high.  This put me on a quest of really wondering if the ones closest to me, at work and in private, were truly authentic.  I learned that a lot of the people I looked up to were not truly authentic, but I also found a great deal of people who were. However, in this quest, I remembered something my mom told me when I was a teenager.  I tended to be a very judgmental teenager and even broke up with a guy because he yelled “Damn” at me when we were on a scary carnival ride and he thought I was silly for being so scared.  My mom asked me if I was perfect and I laughed and said “far from it”. She quickly replied, “Then it was time I stopped judging others so harshly.”

Thinking back about this, I realize in my quest to find authentic relationships that I, myself, may not be completely authentic, and if I am ever going to be a true artist, then I need to own up to the fact that being a published author (other than my research studies) is my ultimate dream; a published author of a body of work that many others want to truly read. However, after I posted my dreams on my Facebook account, I literally became ill wondering if anyone was reading my non-fiction writing and if they were reading them, were they enjoying them or were they judging the life I used to live?  I spent the weekend frozen in time barely being able to do anything.  All I could picture was that stadium full of people staring at me and whispering to each other as I stood there and froze to death, naked and ashamed.

There’s nothing like a Monday morning to thaw me out.  I tend to wake up on Mondays and panic about what I did not get accomplished the week before. This morning, I woke up barely being able to move, I had wrenched my back somehow and was in so much pain that I could not sit up.  As I carefully applied icy hot, I thought about what I did to cause it.  That’s when I had my “aha” moment and remembered frantically running from the stadium, naked and ashamed. Yet, it was too late – when I shared my writing, I did it on the internet, so there was no covered back room to run to.  What happens now?

Next, I took some ibuprofen to help with the pain and made some hot tea and contemplated what the universe might have in store for such an idiot. Before I could think anymore, I retreated to my Tumblr.  That’s where I disappear when I want to see what everyone else is looking at.  I learned quickly that there were not any photos posted of me in the stadium that I had conjured in my mind; the worst that could happen is that someone does not approve.  But for most of my life I have been a people pleaser, so disapproval is like a knife in my back.

I also realized this morning that I do not like waking up in excruciating pain either, so I knew I was at a crossroads.  What now?  I thought about this and asked myself, “What would Bob Marley say?” Good question!  Bob Marley said “Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you are riding through the ruts, don’t complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don’t bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality. Wake Up and Live!”

There’s no taking back what I shared this weekend unless I deleted my blog, but if I was honest with myself, I want to create, I want to write, I want to help others, I want to live!  At that moment, I started creating the above image on my computer; I have spent the last seven years struggling to find the light that is waiting to take me to the next part of my life.  Today, I finally can see a glimpse of that light hitting my face, and whether others like me or hate me, I am ready for my next chapter.  For better or worse – sink or swim – Look out world, here I come!

Priceless Childhood Memories

This is my son back in 2000; time goes by so quickly.  When I was in my twenties, I wish I had known how precious every minute was.  I would have spent more time cherishing these moments and never letting the small stuff build up and get in the way.  If only our older selves could mentor our younger selves.  Hopefully, our children will learn from the lessons we learned.  Haha.... I know .... did we listen to our parents?
This is my son back in 2000; time goes by so quickly. When I was in my twenties, I wish I had known how precious every minute was. I would have spent more time cherishing these moments and never letting the small stuff build up and get in the way. If only our older selves could mentor our younger selves. Hopefully, our children will learn from the lessons we learned. Haha…. I know …. did we listen to our parents? A mom can dream can’t she?