Healing in the water.

I've always been drawn to water.
As a young child I learned to swim easily. I remember feeling completely at home in the water until I was asked to compete on a swim team, and  then the desire to be in the water was over. I had more "periods" than any girl in the early 1970's to avoid wrecking my hair in high school gym class, as a period was the only excuse not to get into the water.

Later, I was a dutiful mom, making sure both my kids knew how to swim, or at least felt comfortable in the water. And they still do.

In Sussex, we had an oversized Jacuzzi bathtub, and a pool, but raising two children in a newly blended family left little time to enjoy either one.

I noticed, as life went on ,the amount of spiritual comfort I felt from a hot bath after a long day. During my first year of teaching eighth grade I contracted whooping cough, and the hot steam of the bath was the only place I could find any relief.

After awhile  the bath tub became a place of refuge. I designed my own shelf to hold a candle, a glass of something and whatever magazine I wanted to read. Glenn switched the drain around in the house I live in now so that the auto-overfill was at the top, allowing me more water in the cheap shallow tub.

I dreamed of an outside hot tub/ spa. So did Glenn. We shopped for tubs that he could access easily. He lived, I realize now, in constant chronic pain .He was never far away from the pain, and being in the water would have helped.  But the tub wasn't in the budget at the time. It was a "someday" purchase. Again. Beware of waiting for "someday".

And then he died and I was alone with that trauma. I couldn't breathe. Truly I couldn't breathe.  I found some relief  in my little shallow bathtub but I knew that I needed to buy the hot tub for my own healing. I was afraid people would judge me for a frivolous purchase but I  just needed to breathe.

It never was  a purchase of frivolity. In the early days after Glenn's death, whenever I felt an anxiety attack approaching, I literally dove into the warm water until the panic feeling passed. It worked. This winter, as long as the air temperature was above 10 degrees F,  I was in the tub,almost daily, remembering, thinking, dreaming, planning.

Tonight I figured out how to attach my IPhone to the built in sound system. Oh my, that  was fun. As I soaked, and floated and enjoyed the freedom that only water allows,  I listened to songs of the past and of the present and all the attached memories and present meanings.

The mood tonight in my tub was not one of personal survival as it was before, but rather one of celebration; of life and the promise of the future. I sang along to the music, and played with the lights, but mostly I did this.....

I breathed.

Big life affirming breaths.

With no reminder. It finally comes  naturally again.

Continuing ....
On the journey.

Questions with No answers

I'm searching, unsuccessfully, for my glasses tonight. I'm sure at some point they will show up. In my quest for vision, I started opening unlikely drawers in desperation.

The search led me to a small three- ringed- binder in which I kept my most personal and honest thoughts during the early '90's. It was way before blogging, and long after the cool diary with the little key I had as a child.

I completely forgot about my glasses; I poured myself a glass of wine and began to read. And now I have so many thoughts. Not so much about the content. Even though I know I wrote it, it feels as if I'm reading about someone else's life.

At the time I wrote this journal my life was in crisis. And now, almost twenty years later, I don't remember the anguish I was feeling. That amazes me.

 And yet my reflections from then are still relevant:
"Time doesn't heal all wounds. It only allows the gaps in between to grow longer."
Wow. How true. And how odd I don't remember writing about that. And why didn't I remember that when true loss hit last year?

Bit what I'm really thinking about is the resiliency of the human condition for most people.

 How do we essentially forget or put away the pain and hurt we've endured?  It is the question of suffering throughout time.
Obviously at the time I was in great pain and was using my journal as a way to work through that pain.And yet,  I read it tonight with just a vague recollection of being the author.

Perhaps it is a natural self- protection. One cannot live in the present or build a future without putting the past to rest.

Maybe being able to "forget" and move forward is the result of grace.

I don't have the answer.

But I'm still amazed at this life as I ...

Continue the journey.

Facebook status changes, technology and life.

147 people have now hit the " like" button signaling their approval of the start of a meaningful and joyful relationship to which I recently committed myself.  In high school, one did that by giving away one's class ring. Does anyone even get class rings anymore? As young adults it went from dating to engagement with no middle step. Now, thanks to technology and social media there is a button on Facebook announcing one's relationship, or change in relationship.
As do those of you who followed my old blog about my journey navigating widowhood, I remember changing my status from "married" to "widowed". It was the first of many painful mental adjustments I made last year. And then, from "widowed" to a blank relationship status. I was committed after a time to not defining my identity by sadness. This weekend, after some discussion, I sat next to the man with whom I'm building a new tomorrow. On the count of three we hit the button that would announce our new relationship to the FB world. It felt huge. And that experience brings me to reflect tonight on the impact of technology on my life, and all of our lives.

41 years ago in March or April, I  started dating the " new kid" in our suburban high school. On our first date I asked him if he intended to ask me out again. Remember, young women were not usually that brazen back then. I was intrigued by his maturity and wonderful manners. Fortunately we hit it off.  We planned, we schemed about our future, when he went to UW I snuck out to visit him many nights. (Sorry Momo.) He broke up with me, I broke up with him; it followed the path of young love. I went to college, and even though he had moved to Minnesota by then, which is where I was, we just couldn't get the timing right. I graduated and married someone else and had two children. Shortly after that he moved to Chicago and got married as well. I divorced and then married Glenn. Through the years however , we always kept in touch. An occasional phone call, letter, class reunions, and then finally, Facebook. We became FB friends five years ago; Glenn had the opportunity to meet Jon at a high school reunion, so most Friday nights would find the three of kibitzing on FB until G would drop off to chat with his online poker buds. During these years we shared the challenges of daily life; most especially Jon's  separation and  estrangement from his wife, followed by her tragic illness and death. We were two old friends sharing life's challenges safely on line, all made possible by technology. My mother died in March and shortly after that event, I received a beautiful and thoughtful card with wonderful memories of my her from my old friend. A thank you for thinking of me at such a hard time turned into hours on the telephone ...and the rest is as they say, history.

Yes, technology is pervasive and invasive in our lives. But so is every truly life changing development. It has it's advantages and it's drawbacks. So did fire when first discovered. And machinery. And cars. And plastic.

The point is that change is hard. I miss getting written cards and mail and when I do, they are warmly received. But I've learned that an email from a friend who probably wouldn't or couldn't send something by post is precious as well.

 I'm sure for some of you, even though you are  truly happy about this new development in my journey, that as you pressed the " like"button on the page, there may have been just a second where you realized that life is changing. Again. And it's not always easy.

But often  it's wonderful.

Life is for living and for loving those sharing the journey with you.

Continuing....

On the journey.

New beginnings

I have discovered that after a year of observing life around me, and in me, and reflecting and writing on it after the sudden and tragic death of my husband last June, that it is a hard habit to break. And as always, I write these for my own record, but am honored to share them with whomever wishes to read them. So while this new blog promises not to be as emotionally wrenching as some of my earlier posts, I hope to amuse you and share with you my next path as it evolves.

I am currently halfway through the trip to Ireland I planned last September as a way to avoid having to relive the events of Glenn' s traumatic and somewhat violent death last June.
What a great decision! My mind has become like a sieve this year for new learning opportunities, and it has been a thrill to hear and experience new knowledge of history and the world.

But mostly what I have been reflecting on this day is the joy of aging. Yes. I said it. The joy of aging.

I was fortunate enough as a college student to travel in Europe two times. Both times were for the month of January. The first time I was a young freshman. I took nothing but a back pack for three weeks. My parents warned me that no one would be there to help me with luggage because the professor was leery about taking a freshman as he thought I might get homesick. Lol. We traveled all through Italy studying art and it was a fantastic trip with kids from St.Olaf, Macalester and Augsburg. We stayed in pretty decent hotels as I remember, and had snowball fights in the Alps. I'm sure I  smelled wretched, but I carried my own weight throughout.

The next trip was two years later. Again, it was an art history trip ( my second major), but this time through the major cities of Europe. And the accommodations, especially in Paris, were abysmal. Even at 20, I figured out how I was going to get out if it started on fire. But youth is tolerant and forgiving and it was a great trip, shared with my lifelong friend Sue Sudduth Moynahan.

We spent time with my children in London  in the '90's, but still maintained a very modest living with no frills.

The other day I noticed a few things that age now allows. I packed a full suitcase. We bought liquor in the duty free store. When we move hotels, I don't touch my luggage except to put it  outside the door. It is delivered back to my new room. I have a private bathroom and air conditioning and the fire hazard is minimal. I have wifi everywhere, including the bus. And I'm more interested in what I'm seeing and the history, than in the business of others. And somebody else is driving.
I realize these are first world privileges and concerns, but so be it.

Although I feel like my life is moving way too fast, I do appreciate the saying, " with age comes privilege." Not that I desire to travel like this all the time. I do miss a bit of independence. But this year? I'm traveling with a dear friend and it is exactly what I need, post- surgery and post- whatta-year.

Here's to life.
On the the next part of the journey.