Bad Business

I had some spare time this afternoon over my lunch break, so I decided to walk to the local library and perhaps the Cheese Shop to buy some chocolate (yes, that's what the specialty shop is actually called). I stopped short of the library when the sign of an herbalist shop caught my eye. It's hidden down below a set of concrete steps, and over the duration of the past year it's been occupied by a polish baker, a sushi maker and a different herbalist.
It's a bad location because it's out of the way. I walked down the steps and into the sparse little shop. There were bagged, loose-leaf teas surrounding one wall, a few hemp/cotton hats in the corner, and some oils and tree-less stationary at the other end. I picked up a bag of tea, but there was no price listed. That's always a bad sign. I picked up a cute hat lined with purple flowers, and, again, no price was listed. The woman behind the counter asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I said "no, I'm just looking", and she scurried off to organize something. I felt my heart beat in my chest and my hands tense up. I was trapped. I knew I was probably her first and maybe last customer of the day, and that's a heavy responsibility. I looked around trying to plan a quick, graceful escape. As I was walking around pretending to be interested, I saw a few items that I thought could make nice stocking stuffers for Zach or his sister. So I began asking the woman the prices of certain items. I immediately forgot each number she rattled off, because I need to actually see the numbers on the items. I walked around for another minute or so and then picked up a plain, white container of green clay facial scrub. There was no seal around it, so I unscrewed the lid to smell it. As the lid popped off, a plume of green dust flew down the front of my jacket and onto my shoes and the floor. It was too much to kick around with my foot and hide, but the woman hadn't noticed. I thought about running out of the shop at that moment, but I decided against that and took the high road. I said "I just spilled some of this powdered mask on the floor. I'm really sorry". She looked up, walked over and said in an agitated and stern voice "Please don't open any of the products". I felt like a little kid, but all I could think was "no kidding, _itch". I asked her the price and offered to buy it if she wanted me to. She said that someone else did the same thing a few days ago and did buy the product. (Hello, have you heard of sealing your products?) I said I would buy it. She ran around the shop looking for a broom to clean up the mess and then offered to top off what I had spilled from the container before selling it to me. As she came back to the counter, she asked me if that was it. I picked up a chocolate bar and said I'd take that as well. She looked me in the eye and said "you really don't want this mask, do you?" I said I would give it to a friend. She said I shouldn't do that because there was clay all over the label. She told me I didn't have to buy it. At that point I should have felt relieved, but a wave of indignation rose up over me, and all I could think was "what, I'm not good enough to buy your over-priced herbal crap?"
I bought the chocolate bar and left knowing I'll never set foot in that shop again.

The dog likes spicy chili

My parents just left after our mini pre-christmas christmas. Since they're not celebrating this year, Zach and I invited them to our apartment to eat homemade chili, cranberry walnut bread and cheesecake. We ate, went for a walk and then opened some unexpected gifts they had bought us. It was really a very pleasant day. I highly suggest celebrating on a day other than THE day. None of the stress was there, as were none of the expectations. My parents and I have been getting along very well, and I don't think I tell them often enough how much I love them and how exceptional I think they are. To answer your question mom and dad, "No" I'm not just saying this because I recently sent you the link to this blog.
On the 24th I'll head up to Cape Cod to spend Christmas with Zach's family. I have been skeptical toward Christmas this year and uncertain about how the grief will affect me. Christmas Eve was a big deal in our family, more so than Christmas day. On the night of Christmas Eve I plan on going to Smuggler's Beach, lighting a candle and spreading a few of Ashley's ashes on the beach. It's something I want to do in her memory. I also bought several books I know Ashley liked when she was younger, and I'm giving them to my nieces and the kids I babysit.
It's been really hard the past few weeks with the approach of the holidays and the one-year anniversary of Ashley's death. There really aren't any words to describe it. Sometimes my chest gets tight and I realize that I'm holding my breath. Sometimes my jaw is rigid and tense. Sometimes it's a dream I have; she's standing there before me, all of her features strong and clear, searching my face with her piercing blue eyes. The knowledge that she's gone enters my dream, and her image fades away. I try to hold onto the image, but it always slips away. It frightens me more than anything. The fact that there are things in life beyond anyone's control scares the shit out of me.

Each Day

I catch myself in a quick moment of peaceful mindfulness early in the morning on my way to work. I usually wake up in a frenzy, a little too late and a little too tired, and run out the door forgoing a shower or a decent breakfast. My ride to school is only 7 miles, and it takes me about 14 minutes to get there. As I round a bend a little over halfway there, a mountain ridge appears. It's not big, but it's serene and beautiful. The sun rises behind it, so the clouds are a soft pink and orange while the sky is slate gray. Snow covers the mountain, and some lights from the houses twinkle down its sides. It reminds me of the moment I entered the Fjord of Oslo by boat early one December morning 5 years ago. It is that small, fleeting moment that helps make the rest of the day okay.

My first paid "sick" day

I stayed home from work yesterday afternoon and napped, watched Roman Holiday and made turkey soup. The holiday season is hard. I didn't think I'd feel this way until closer to the end of the month and next month, but I've heard grief is unpredictable. Holidays are hard enough as it is. Why do we put all this undue stress on ourselves?
I really enjoyed my day off. Everybody should take at least one personal day in the month of December, if not more.
I'll be in Lancaster this weekend taking the GREs. Wish me luck!

Have your secretary contact my secretary

Things have been going well. Doing anything computer related is a low priority right now, hence my not updating my blog recently. I will post again when I gather my patience and we can sit down together to write. BTW, I know the word "secretary" is not politically correct, so I apologize now if I have offended anyone.

Wherein I get full of myself and talk about myself some more

Call me crazy, but my new "assignment" from my therapist is to NOT make my bed at least one morning this week, to NOT make lunches for me and Zach one day this week, to at least consider not running one of the days I run if I don't feel like it, and to try to stop the worrisome thoughts I have of what I'm eating-is it too much, not enough, balanced enough? Sounds crazy, right, like it's the complete opposite of healthy?
I've begun to accept the fact that I seem to be highly energetic and have trouble sitting still. In fact part of me gets a rush from getting so much done every day. The problem, though, is that at some point I start to feel tired and overwhelmed. I'm trying so hard to keep everything contained in a neat, little package wrapped in a pretty red bow, and it's bursting at the seams. I imagined it exploding, but then everything was strewn across the floor of a white room with no escape. I'm working on building myself mental shelves. That way I can keep everything on a shelf, nice and neat, but not bursting at the seams or scattered all over the place.
I've always been a worrier. I worry about the silliest things. For example, what if I forget to replenish the supply of cups at work? In reality, the kids would just drink from the water fountain that day, but the reality of the situation eludes me. I might just have to intentionally forget the cups one day to prove to myself that nothing catastrophic will happen. The irony in all of my worrying is that one of the ultimate terrible things that could happen to me has, that being the death of my sister. What could compare other than another death? But I've been worrying about things for as long as I can remember, starting in preschool. I've heard it said that awareness is the first step toward change. That may be true, but at this point all awareness has done is make it harder for me to live my life. At least before, without the awareness, I could live me life in a way that felt good, even if it wasn't healthy. Now I know better. Knowing better sucks, and that first occurred to me when I was three and Ashley was a baby, and I realized that she couldn't get in trouble, because she was a baby and didn't know any better. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, so I'll end on that note.

Like the disappointment after X-mas

I have the apartment to myself tonight because Zach is at one of his monthly weekend courses in Harrisburg. I was so excited about having the place to myself and imagining about a dozen different things that I could do, that I've made myself too exhausted to do anything. I might still squeeze in that trip to TJ Maxx. I could always use another pair of cheap shoes.

My first memory of Ashley (in utero)

I was reading the website of my friend Jenni where she was recounting one of her first memories. It made me think of one of my first memories, and I wanted to share it. It was shortly before my third birthday, and I was at the doctor's office with my mom. I remember standing by her side surrounded by legs, both of people and tables. The room was dim. It seemed like a half dozen people were standing around the table on which my mom was lying. The doctor bent down toward me and put the cold, metal stethoscope on my ears. I was scared. He asked me if I could hear the baby's heartbeat. I shook my head up and down furiously, just wanting him to take the thing off my ears. I couldn't hear a damn thing. Later, as we were leaving, he shut the door on my hand, but I don't remember that part.

Dear Ashley,

When I finally sat down long enough today to let myself realize what it is that I've been feeling, I realized that it's been 9 months to the day since you died. I've been running away from my feelings all week, and I've felt frantic and stressed out, but I'm afraid if I stop that I'll never start back up again. I wrote you a long letter today and cried for over an hour. It's amazing to me to think that with so many people in the world, how is it that I could miss just one person so much? I do though. I miss you more than you will ever know. I have gotten closer to mom and my friends, but I will never stop missing you. Some days I'm amazed to think that with all the losses that occur each day in the world, how anyone can find life enjoyable or worth living. I know it is, though, because I saw through all of your pain and suffering how you lived each day. Through your pain, you still found strength to talk about things that were important to you, like your friends, our family, school, events happening in the world, the quality of care (or lack of) of the hospital staff, and you still managed to ask others how they were doing and to smile. I'm sure you really learned how to accept love and kindness from others. I know you did, because you were so generous in returning it. I know you are no longer suffering, but I bet if you'd have had a choice, you would have chosen to stay here among the living. I think you knew it was your time to go, but I'm not so sure you really wanted to go. I hope you felt comforted at your death by my presence. I'm so glad I was able to be with you when you died. It was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. I just wish you could be here with me now.
Love,
Angelique

Any sense does it make?

I started a weekly yoga class last Monday. I'm hopeful that it's going to help me relax and learn to sloooow down a bit. I've been so exhausted lately that I've been walking into things like an awkward teenager going through a growth spurt. I have a collection of bruises to show for it. I also say things that don't really make sense and then can't remember saying them. Thankfully Zach is there to inform me of and question the nonsensical things I say. More to come later.

Goodbye Summer

It's been one of those weeks where I feel like I just can't get started. It started on Sunday when I was dog/cat sitting for my parents, and I ended up leaving their house 3 hours later than I had originally planned. Monday was Monday, but Tuesday started off with such a gloomy feel to it, that I felt paralyzed. I couldn't get anything done at work, so I went to Walmart and bought a football for the kids to play with afterschool. I felt like sitting down and crying in the middle of Walmart, because it is so enormous, impersonal, smelly and fluorescent. Now it's happened again today. I went for a run after working this morning, and here I sit, 3 hours later in my apt. NOT working. I did do a lot of housework, but that was obviously one of my old distraction mechanisms I resort to from time to time. I really didn't need to clean. I'm feeling overwhelmed and very anxious. I get these surges of adrenaline for seemingly no reason that leave me feeling weak. Granted today is a beautiful, sunny day, I sense the changes that the fall and winter will bring about. I'm really anxious about this upcoming winter and all the memories of Ashley's death that it will bring. I realize that the anticipation of it all is much worse than the thing itself will actually be, but how do you come to terms with that?

Teddy Bear Teddy Bear Turn Around!

I made it through the first full week of the after school program where I now work, and I am thoroughly exhausted. There are several factors involved, such as:
a. working full time for the first time in a year
b. playing kickball, baseball and jumping rope almost every afternoon with the kids in the hot sun
c. waking up early, too early. I don't need to get up until 6:00, but I've been waking at 5:30
(and even 4:15 one day)
d. worrying about planning activities and discipline techniques
e. my already ridiculously heightened sensation of "I can do it ALL" increases

So today I carved out some time to just sit in my car and listen to music for half an hour, and I actually did it. This is a big achievement for me. I don't usually just sit around doing "nothing". It really is a skill to allow yourself to sit and just be and to face all the problems that have been plaguing you. My usual coping mechanism involves running away, and I mean literally running. I've cut back on running drastically, and, to my own amazement, nothing bad has happened.
It was while I was sitting around that I realized how tired I actually am. I also realized that the intersection of Burrowes and Fairmount is really hazardous.

Requirement: no dizziness, nausea or lightheadedness

Thursday night I attempted to donate blood at a local Red Cross drive. For those of you who know me, you can stop snickering now. If you know me well, then you know that I get queasy at the mere mention of blood. I don't need to know that there is actually blood flowing through the veins and arteries inside my body. I can't stand the thought of somebody puncturing through my skin and veins with a needle to let out what is supposed to stay within.
About 10 years ago when I was a freshman in college, I had my finger pricked for a cholesterol test at a health fair. I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. I remember sitting down on a couch, and then I remember opening my eyes and staring up at the ceiling. Apparently I fainted on the couch without anybody noticing. About 2 years before that I was at the movies with my mom and Ashley. We we watching a matinee showing of "Interview with a Vampire". It was after school, I was a little bit tired and a little bit hungry, and when Tom Cruise bit into Brad Pitt's neck (or vice versa-I can't remember those details), there was a sound effect that resembled biting into a crisp apple. Apparently there was some moaning involved and Ashley telling me to shush, but all I remember is "waking up" and wondering why my arms were hanging to the sides of the chair and why I was slouched so far down. I got up and got a soda and then watched the rest of the movie.
There haven't been any episodes like that in years. I mean, I've come close to fainting for reasons that I can't really explain, but I haven't actually fainted again in ten years. Lately when I've had blood drawn at the doctor's office, I've been doing better. I don't feel faint. I thought about donating blood because Ashley had around 6 blood transfusions over a one-year period. I thought donating blood would be a nice way for me to give back.
Last Monday I made appointments, yes, it is suggested you make an appointment first, for me and Zach to donate on Thursday. I didn't think much about it all week, but was feeling a bit doubtful about the whole ordeal when I had to stop reading the red cross webpage explaining the donation procedure because I was feeling faint. I just didn't think about it for the rest of the week. By the time Thursday night rolled around, I had been drinking extra water and had eaten a substantial amount. Once I got up to the donation site, I mentioned to Zach that I wasn't sure I could do this. He brushed my doubts aside and paid no attention to them, and I tried to do the same. Well, I never made it past the finger prick. I ended up on the floor after the woman pricked my finger to test my iron levels, which I passed with flying colors. I wasn't allowed to donate blood. I had to be wheeled in a chair past the bed where Zach was lying, already having his blood drawn, to a bed in the corner where I had to stay for a while, until they wheeled in the next victim, this time a guy, to occupy the bed. I was secretly relieved to see someone else in the same sorry state. I received a temporary deferral letter, which stated:
"We were not able to accept your donation today for the following reason:
Other-Donor reaction in health history. Requirement: no dizziness, nausea or lightheadedness"

Next time I'll just hand out the cookies.

A Slightly Uneasy Feeling

This morning as Zach an I were sitting in our apartment family room reading the paper, we heard the pattering of a [squirrel's/rat's] little feet coming from somewhere behind us. I could have said it was the cat if we had a cat, but since we don't, it couldn't have been the cat. We reasoned to ourselves that it must have been a squirrel on the roof, because a rat doesn't make pattering sounds, does it? At this point, I'm relying on the "if I can't see it, it must not exist" rationale.

The only news in the paper is that of Hurricane Katrina's aftermath. It's actually the first that I've sat down and read about it. I've managed to avoid most media coverage of the disaster for the past week. It's not because I'm a cold, callous, uncaring person, but it's just that everything is so sensationalized, and watching the coverage makes me feel helpless. The other factor is that right before she got sick, my sister Ashley spent a summer in Baton Rouge doing an internship with the Dept. of Transportation, and the strong connection between Ashley and Louisiana makes it difficult for me to watch and listen to the news about the hurricane. I can't even walk by the tobasco sauce in the grocery store without thinking about Ashley and of how she toured that factory. I started listening lately, because I know how interested and concerned she would have been in all of this. She was planning on studying urban development and transportation in graduate school. I've been trying to think of ways that she would have helped with the disaster. It's not really feasible to donate money, so I've thought about contacting all of Ashley's friends and acquaintances in Louisiana to see if they're okay. I think that's what she would have done.

Ups and Downs

Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my blog. Today I started my new job as a group supervisor for an afterschool program. There are good things happening, and it's all so emotional. I feel like I'm coping, though. I always keep in mind that the opposite of depression is not happiness, but resilience.

"On Grief and Grieving"

I've been reading this book co-authored by David Kessler and Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, finished right before she died last year. There was one passage in particular that talked about how many people believe that we never die alone, and that all those we once knew will be there to greet us in death. At first the thought made me upset and angry, because who did Ashley know who had already died? But then I thought of my dad's father who died a few months before Ashley was born, and I could picture Ashley together with our grandfather. She would fill him in one what everyone has been up to for the past 26 years, and that image made me cry. I like to think that Ashley and my grandfather are together.
Another passage in the book talked about how we the living are constrained by time. It may be another 60 years before I see Ashley again, if I believe that everyone will be reunited in death, but the dead, who live in another realm, don't have time restrictions, so what may be 60 years for me may only feel like a matter of seconds to the deceased. Obviously nobody knows for sure what happens, and right now this is what feels good for me to believe.

Snippets of my Day (or Could I possibly get any lazier?)

Sleepy
confident
spritely
sunny
grasshoppers
green bean splattered pants
Dayquil
Sleepy
Dido and the Dixie Chicks
sweet potato french fries

The rain is humbling

It's a rainy day, and I'm back in State College by myself. Zach remained up on Cape Cod for a few more days visiting his family. I didn't want to come back. The day I left was perfectly sunny with just a few clouds in the sky, a perfect beach day. Mainly while I was there I sat on the beach and read the newest Harry Potter book, which was excellent. It's all the more difficult being back now because I've had a frustrating past few days and, on top of it all, I have a horrible cold. I'm trying to just stay in and give myself time to get better, but that's one of the most difficult things for me to do.
While I've been sitting inside listening to this awesome CD called Love Rocks*, I've been thinking about Ashley. I keep picturing her lying in the hospital bed the day she died, completely still. I remember shutting her eyelids the rest of the way. I sat by her bed and held her hands and talked to her for 2 hours before Zach arrived. She was still warm to the touch, but I could see her ears were turning slightly blue around the edges. I wanted to believe that she could hear what I was saying. I had to believe it. I still don't know what happens to a person's soul at death. Sometimes I think it becomes fragmented and is dispersed in the universe. It's hard to believe that anyone's soul could remain whole and be transferred to another being at birth. I would like to believe that the soul does survive in some way, though. I was thinking today how much I would like to talk to my mom about this image that I carry of Ashley and my thoughts about her spirit. I'm just afraid my mom is not ready to hear it, and I'm afraid that by making myself so vulnerable to her I'll only end up getting hurt. This is why I'm blogging it today. It's good to know that my thoughts are still being heard.

*Zach and I bought the CD in Provincetown, Cape Cod, a very lively, alternative town on the tip of Cape Cod surrounded by water and sand dunes. It came from a little shop that only sells items in support of the Human Rights Campaign.

Girl Crushes-Read about it in today's NY Times-I've had many of them

On Tuesday Zach and I bought a car. It's our first big purchase as a married couple, and now there's no turning back! Actually, Zach bought the car while I waited at home for all the paperwork needed to register the car. Because he bought the car in Boston (where his family is from) and we are Pennsylvania residents, he couldn't drive it off the lot until it was registered. We had anticipated this, so the plan was that he would go up and buy the car while I got a nice week in our apt. alone waiting for the paperwork.
It's actually been a busy week. It took us a while to figure out how we were actually going to pay for the car. It's not the money that was a problem, but rather that my bank is still in Lancaster, over 2 hours away, and we needed a cashiers check, because the dealership doesn't accept out-of-state checks and we wanted to put down more than the $1500.00 they allow on credit card purchases. We had saved all our wedding money, and that's what we used for a down payment. Honeymoons seem overrated to me anyway. My bank sent us the cashiers check we needed overnight and Zach left last Saturday. He negotiated some on Sunday, called the dealer again on Monday, and bought the car on Tuesday. We went with the Ford Focus. I prefer Japanese cars, but we got a fully-loaded car for an excellent deal. When we both have steadier incomes we'll go for the car we really want. We had to get a new car, though, not only because our old one wasn't worth pumping any more money into, but also because Zach is what Click and Clack refer to as an auto-hypochondriac. He hears EVERY LITTLE noise, and it drives him (and me) crazy.
But anyway, the paperwork arrived this morning. It was sitting neatly tucked away on top of our mailbox, even though I was supposed to have signed for it. I don't know how long it was sitting there, nor do I know why the fedex guy didn't knock on my door which I had left wide open. I was getting anxious waiting for it, because I needed to be out the door for work by 10:15, and I wanted to go to AAA to take care of it beforehand. When I saw it, it was nearly 10:00. I arranged to go to work a little bit late and raced out to AAA. When I got there my heart was pounding and I was shaking. I hadn't had a chance to actually look through the papers Zach sent me, so I didn't know what was there. There were three women at the counter, and I was hoping the friendly-looking, young brunette would call me over and NOT the older, gray-haired woman who looked mean. But the fates weren't with me this morning. I spilled the paperwork out onto the counter in front of the scary, old one and stammered out some words about needing to register a new car that my husband purchased out of state. She began to ask if I had some MVI something-or-other form, and I said it should all be there. I handed her the power of attorney form, since that was needed before I could sign anything for Zach. She took one look at it and said "I don't think I'm going to be able to use this". Just like that. She didn't even look at me. I asked why, and she said because the expiration date hadn't been filled in, even though the effective date had been written in clearly and it said right below "Expires 90 days from effective date". I stared at her, my heart still pounding and my hands shaking and said "Well you don't have to have an attitude". I couldn't believe I had said that. Sure, I could think of worse things to say, but usually I don't say things like that at all. The words just poured out of my mouth as I felt the anger building inside. After I said that, she surprisingly softened up and became overly nice. Maybe she sensed my anxiety or maybe she remembered some words from her customer service training 100 years ago, but whatever it was she changed her behavior, and I got all the paperwork done. I don't think I stopped shaking until I was halfway home, though. It wasn't the sales tax I had to pay that was bothering me, but dealing with bureaucratic paperwork that got me.
I went straight to my babysitting job. I usually don't drive, and I decided to pull into their driveway since there's a two-hour limit for on-street parking. It was narrow, so I squeezed in front of the garage next to the house. I inched forward a little bit, and then a little bit more, a little bit more, and a bit more until CRACK. I had hit the frame of the garage. I backed up quickly just as the little girl's mother came out of the house. She looked at the frame and then said "I was going to tell you that you could park out back in the alley". I started stammering again and apologized, but I could see that the frame had been hit several times before on both sides, above and below where I hit. She told me not to worry, because they were replacing it next week anyway. It's a good thing it didn't happen next week. I felt so stupid for having done that. Other than the occasional curb, I haven't ever hit anything. She was fine with it, but I wondered if I would ever stop shaking.
I'll be in Massachusetts for the next 6 days, and probably won't get a chance to post during that time. I'm looking forward to the time away and to the drive up. Driving is one of my favorite things to do, especially if it's a long trip by myself.
Have a good weekend everybody!

Musing

At how I say crown and how difficult it is for me to actually say the word crayon. I had to put the word Crayola in front of it to let one of the mothers I babysit for know what I was talking about. Anyway, Zach and I bought a giant 64 pack of Crayola crayons at Target last week for $1.88-and that includes a built-in-sharpener in the back.