Friday, December 7, 2012
Rhythm
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
YES!!
......continuation from last post......
Found her!!!!
I will resume writing, but not quite yet. But thank you for all the kind comments through Facebook. All of this helped me find the old me/new me.
Found her!!!!
I will resume writing, but not quite yet. But thank you for all the kind comments through Facebook. All of this helped me find the old me/new me.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Where is Terri?
I have lost her! I wonder if I am the only one who loses who they were, and is having trouble accepting who they are.
Where did that girl go? You know the one who was going to be a world traveler and live a sophisticated life. I got married at 18-years-old and changed that specific plan. No regrets.
Then there was the businesswoman who became the youngest manager in the country. I was pretty good in that financial company. I left when pregnant with Alex. My choice.
I was already a wife, so now I became a mom; first Alex and three years later, Morgan. This Terri loved her little family more than words can say. Even more than she thought she ever could. She became the volunteer, advocate, partially single parent during the numerous time of my husband’s travel. As a couple, we were living the sophisticated life through my husband’s career. Guess what? I didn’t like it. I hate cocktail parties and company parties. I preferred my circle of friends and family.
Thinking that life had a certain rhythm, I learned to be okay as a homemaker. When the boys got old enough, I went to work for the local school district. I enjoyed working with children at the middle school age. I guess this would be my life now, but I was a little panicked because Alex was nearing graduation and going away to college. Time had gone so fast.
Then horrid change came; Alex died in a car crash in which he was driving. He was only 17 and at the end of his junior year in high school. Despair, anguish, pain, and disbelief, colored my life for years. How could I be without my oldest son? It made no sense. It took years to redefine me within the parameters of a bereaved mom. The old Terri was gone and a new sad one stood in her place.
Over time, moments of sweetness and light came back into my life. Sometimes my humor reasserted itself. I wrote a book about survival, did interviews, and reengaged in life. In 2002, I started college. My goal had been small. I just wanted an Associate’s Degree in Human Services and then an intake job.
But this Terri loved school. The learning and the relationships were very different at this ripe old age of 49. Could I actually move through to a Bachelor’s Degree? Yes! Fun, fun, fun! Plus I excelled at the work. Who knew? I had a brain that was driven to understand the human psyche. The more challenging the assignments, the better I liked them. I graduated in 2008 with a Bachelor of Social Science/Psychology Degree; summa cum laude. I still can’t believe I did it, but also that it is over.
This Terri would have loved to continue in school, but now the long term disabling neuropathy reared up big time. School was no longer an option. Turns out I have nerve root disease along with the other diagnoses; so long bouts of sitting are not available to me. Since I cannot stand for longer than a couple of minutes, cannot sit for any length or lie down, my life has once again altered. Who am I? How do I do disabled?
I have certainly seen and known people far worse off than me. But this is not about them; there is always a worse story. I want to find me back. I lost me through my son’s death, my other son’s heartache, watching my sweet husband suffer, and seeing the world in shades of gray. Then the cherry on the cake was losing my ability to function as I once had. Is it possible to lose me forever? I feel like an albatross flung around my loved one’s neck.
Where is the glass half full Terri? Where is the funny Terri? Where is the Terri who made the best of things? I don’t believe that I cannot find her again. She will be older, wiser, and more serious. She will need to find a way to be independent emotionally, while dependent physically. I need to give this woman a break, because this isn’t easy.
Perhaps, my funny little French Bull dog will help. She does make me laugh. Maybe allowing my friends to help me more, as they have tried to do, will aid me in finding my way back to me. Pride can take a terrible toll. I need to shelve some of that pride and realize that this is a new chapter, and I will need the assistance of those who love me and whom I love. Together we will find a Terri who can carve a new path!
Then there was the businesswoman who became the youngest manager in the country. I was pretty good in that financial company. I left when pregnant with Alex. My choice.
I was already a wife, so now I became a mom; first Alex and three years later, Morgan. This Terri loved her little family more than words can say. Even more than she thought she ever could. She became the volunteer, advocate, partially single parent during the numerous time of my husband’s travel. As a couple, we were living the sophisticated life through my husband’s career. Guess what? I didn’t like it. I hate cocktail parties and company parties. I preferred my circle of friends and family.
Thinking that life had a certain rhythm, I learned to be okay as a homemaker. When the boys got old enough, I went to work for the local school district. I enjoyed working with children at the middle school age. I guess this would be my life now, but I was a little panicked because Alex was nearing graduation and going away to college. Time had gone so fast.
Then horrid change came; Alex died in a car crash in which he was driving. He was only 17 and at the end of his junior year in high school. Despair, anguish, pain, and disbelief, colored my life for years. How could I be without my oldest son? It made no sense. It took years to redefine me within the parameters of a bereaved mom. The old Terri was gone and a new sad one stood in her place.
Over time, moments of sweetness and light came back into my life. Sometimes my humor reasserted itself. I wrote a book about survival, did interviews, and reengaged in life. In 2002, I started college. My goal had been small. I just wanted an Associate’s Degree in Human Services and then an intake job.
But this Terri loved school. The learning and the relationships were very different at this ripe old age of 49. Could I actually move through to a Bachelor’s Degree? Yes! Fun, fun, fun! Plus I excelled at the work. Who knew? I had a brain that was driven to understand the human psyche. The more challenging the assignments, the better I liked them. I graduated in 2008 with a Bachelor of Social Science/Psychology Degree; summa cum laude. I still can’t believe I did it, but also that it is over.
This Terri would have loved to continue in school, but now the long term disabling neuropathy reared up big time. School was no longer an option. Turns out I have nerve root disease along with the other diagnoses; so long bouts of sitting are not available to me. Since I cannot stand for longer than a couple of minutes, cannot sit for any length or lie down, my life has once again altered. Who am I? How do I do disabled?
I have certainly seen and known people far worse off than me. But this is not about them; there is always a worse story. I want to find me back. I lost me through my son’s death, my other son’s heartache, watching my sweet husband suffer, and seeing the world in shades of gray. Then the cherry on the cake was losing my ability to function as I once had. Is it possible to lose me forever? I feel like an albatross flung around my loved one’s neck.
Where is the glass half full Terri? Where is the funny Terri? Where is the Terri who made the best of things? I don’t believe that I cannot find her again. She will be older, wiser, and more serious. She will need to find a way to be independent emotionally, while dependent physically. I need to give this woman a break, because this isn’t easy.
Perhaps, my funny little French Bull dog will help. She does make me laugh. Maybe allowing my friends to help me more, as they have tried to do, will aid me in finding my way back to me. Pride can take a terrible toll. I need to shelve some of that pride and realize that this is a new chapter, and I will need the assistance of those who love me and whom I love. Together we will find a Terri who can carve a new path!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Today’s Word: Happiness
Ah, here is a word that can mean something different to each of us. Context is important! Here is what it means to me.
I used to think that happy people walked around in this blissful state and never had a bad day. I felt like a kid looking through the window at a candy store, but wasn’t allowed in. What I have discovered is happiness is on the spectrum of moods and while many do not dip into depression, they can go to neutral. Nobody is in a perpetual state of joy, because if they didn’t move along the spectrum they wouldn’t recognize their joy. There is an ebb and flow. I feel great joy when I hear my husband or son sing. I love music anyway, but this is more personal and my happiness rises up the spectrum. When I hear certain songs, which trigger my memories of Alex, my happiness dips into sorrow. Yet the sorrow lifts as I think about how joyful it was to have him in my life. Up the spectrum I go.
Every morning I get up to the sweet snort of my French Bulldog, Truffle. My happiness line shoots way up as this sweet doggie loves up on me and I pet her softness. The joy of a beloved pet cannot be overstated.
I tend to go in this pattern. It isn’t sudden joy and sudden sadness, for the most part, but a gentle sense of well-being which can be triggered up or down by life’s happenings. While I certainly could live without the depression that can lurk with the sorrow, it has shown me the sweetness of joy and how to cherish it.
One of my most joyful moments, in the last 18 years, was at a school concert. Morgan was a freshman and was singing a solo, “Moon River.” This was approximately two years after Alex died, and I still couldn’t feel the love for others which I knew was there. As my sweet, gifted son stood on stage and started singing this old ballad, I felt his voice reach into my heart and pull the joy out. It was the start of re-engaging in life.
For me, happiness is people; special people who bring their uniqueness, tenderness, affection, and love to my life. My son and husband are obviously special beyond words, but I am blessed with many of the best people in the world sharing my life.
One last thought: I must include Truffle, who is my daily joy of energy. She is not a people, but she thinks she is.
Ah, here is a word that can mean something different to each of us. Context is important! Here is what it means to me.
I used to think that happy people walked around in this blissful state and never had a bad day. I felt like a kid looking through the window at a candy store, but wasn’t allowed in. What I have discovered is happiness is on the spectrum of moods and while many do not dip into depression, they can go to neutral. Nobody is in a perpetual state of joy, because if they didn’t move along the spectrum they wouldn’t recognize their joy. There is an ebb and flow. I feel great joy when I hear my husband or son sing. I love music anyway, but this is more personal and my happiness rises up the spectrum. When I hear certain songs, which trigger my memories of Alex, my happiness dips into sorrow. Yet the sorrow lifts as I think about how joyful it was to have him in my life. Up the spectrum I go.
Every morning I get up to the sweet snort of my French Bulldog, Truffle. My happiness line shoots way up as this sweet doggie loves up on me and I pet her softness. The joy of a beloved pet cannot be overstated.
I tend to go in this pattern. It isn’t sudden joy and sudden sadness, for the most part, but a gentle sense of well-being which can be triggered up or down by life’s happenings. While I certainly could live without the depression that can lurk with the sorrow, it has shown me the sweetness of joy and how to cherish it.
One of my most joyful moments, in the last 18 years, was at a school concert. Morgan was a freshman and was singing a solo, “Moon River.” This was approximately two years after Alex died, and I still couldn’t feel the love for others which I knew was there. As my sweet, gifted son stood on stage and started singing this old ballad, I felt his voice reach into my heart and pull the joy out. It was the start of re-engaging in life.
For me, happiness is people; special people who bring their uniqueness, tenderness, affection, and love to my life. My son and husband are obviously special beyond words, but I am blessed with many of the best people in the world sharing my life.
One last thought: I must include Truffle, who is my daily joy of energy. She is not a people, but she thinks she is.
Monday, July 9, 2012
How Many Chins?
The following is one of four pieces I wrote for a class a few years ago. The age has changed but all else remains the same.(smiley face)….This was for a class called “Gender and Body Image,” and was very enlightening. We women are sure tough on ourselves. This story pays homage to that which many of us have.
When I was growing up I had one great chin. It was sculpted and had a nice smile above it, with a couple of dimples at the cheek. As I have aged, I have noticed a couple of unexpected things.
Where there was once a nice little chin, there are now two of them. My chin grew a twin! How did this happen and why didn’t I notice? I think the culprit is my profile, which is the part that hides from my inspection of the face. This sideways silhouette is where others see the chin, and now its twin buddy, but I hadn’t kept tabs of my side view much. So when I looked one day, it was such a surprise to see more face than I used to have. Why hadn’t I been told?
This frightening experience led me to pull my chin up and push it out, at the same time, so that it would group as a single unit. Advice came fast and furious as my friends helped me cope, by giving advice on how to make it not show. I was told that pictures looked better if you did that up and out thing, but really I just looked like someone with a neck and face being stretched like a chicken. Many of my friends have suffered this terrible fate also. We have discussed plastic surgery, but are afraid we might end up looking like those Hollywood types who go under the knife. They didn’t improve their looks, and seem very chicken like and rather scary looking. Plus, surgery does seem a bit extreme for something that isn’t hurting anything.
My chin cannot be decorated like my ears, or have a flattering wardrobe which can disguise perceived flaws. It is a part of the face where makeup isn’t necessary. The chin just sits there and acts like a chin. Some might call it a jowl, but that is really an ugly word. Be it a jowl, chin, or jaw, it is an integral part of our body and face. Without its existence we would not be able to chew, speak, or maybe even smile. A chin is always front and center and is probably more difficult for me to get used to, as opposed to my butt, which hides out behind me. However, I have a lively face and wide smile, with white teeth, so the hope lives that the chin plus counterpart will be lost in all of the other animations found within my visage.
An extra chin could be a real improvement in accommodating all the needs of the face. Where would my smile be without the protuberance below its bottom lip? Perhaps it is time for me to embrace my silhouette and gruesome twosome, and remind myself that I am fortunate to be getting old enough to have this experience. Not everyone has to pleasure to reach 55-years of age and have something to smile about, with said chin helping out.
Copyright Theresa Huber 2006
When I was growing up I had one great chin. It was sculpted and had a nice smile above it, with a couple of dimples at the cheek. As I have aged, I have noticed a couple of unexpected things.
Where there was once a nice little chin, there are now two of them. My chin grew a twin! How did this happen and why didn’t I notice? I think the culprit is my profile, which is the part that hides from my inspection of the face. This sideways silhouette is where others see the chin, and now its twin buddy, but I hadn’t kept tabs of my side view much. So when I looked one day, it was such a surprise to see more face than I used to have. Why hadn’t I been told?
This frightening experience led me to pull my chin up and push it out, at the same time, so that it would group as a single unit. Advice came fast and furious as my friends helped me cope, by giving advice on how to make it not show. I was told that pictures looked better if you did that up and out thing, but really I just looked like someone with a neck and face being stretched like a chicken. Many of my friends have suffered this terrible fate also. We have discussed plastic surgery, but are afraid we might end up looking like those Hollywood types who go under the knife. They didn’t improve their looks, and seem very chicken like and rather scary looking. Plus, surgery does seem a bit extreme for something that isn’t hurting anything.
My chin cannot be decorated like my ears, or have a flattering wardrobe which can disguise perceived flaws. It is a part of the face where makeup isn’t necessary. The chin just sits there and acts like a chin. Some might call it a jowl, but that is really an ugly word. Be it a jowl, chin, or jaw, it is an integral part of our body and face. Without its existence we would not be able to chew, speak, or maybe even smile. A chin is always front and center and is probably more difficult for me to get used to, as opposed to my butt, which hides out behind me. However, I have a lively face and wide smile, with white teeth, so the hope lives that the chin plus counterpart will be lost in all of the other animations found within my visage.
An extra chin could be a real improvement in accommodating all the needs of the face. Where would my smile be without the protuberance below its bottom lip? Perhaps it is time for me to embrace my silhouette and gruesome twosome, and remind myself that I am fortunate to be getting old enough to have this experience. Not everyone has to pleasure to reach 55-years of age and have something to smile about, with said chin helping out.
Copyright Theresa Huber 2006
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Life has changed (again)
Wow, I cannot believe it has been over six months since my last post. Life has changed. I am still finding my footing (so to speak) with the changes in my body. I feel very positive that once my rehab is complete that I will be able to resume a relatively normal life.
It is unfortunate that air travel is no longer an option for me. The break-through pain while sitting totally upright for an extended time is not bearable. Found this out the hard way. But car trips, where I can lean the seat back, are in my future. FYI: There is part of me that did a figurative jig that I never have to suffer the indignities of an airport again. Yippee.
It has taken me a while to come to terms with my abilities as they are now. However, I try to keep a positive vision in my life because I have found that negativity leads to severe depression. I don’t like being depressed! I refuse to travel that road again. So if I end up in a wheel chair, you will see the baddest babe in town doing wheelies.
I am going to attempt to write more regularly in this blog again. I didn’t want depression to become the watchword for this writing endeavor. Look for more words of the day, thoughts, humor.
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