Tag: hope

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“You will feel better than this….”

 

Very few people know that 2019 was one of the hardest years of my life. For very personal reasons and to protect the privacy of those I love, I kept my tragedy contained to a very small circle. 

Ringing in 2020 brought me some sense of hope, but to be honest, I was still knee-deep in shit. Surviving and caring for my family were my main goals.

So, when the pandemic hit just a few months later… while it was another added challenge, I largely felt as though I’d been through worse. So I tried to take it all in stride, another speed-bump on my already crappy road.

While the virus was scary, there was a much-appreciated silver-lining for me.

After months of wanting to curl-up in a ball and shut the world out, I was allowed, mandated actually, to slow down and stay at home. While many felt trapped in their own space, the shut-down offered me a much needed break and quality time with my family. It gave me respite. My family too-got a break from the busyness of the world. No more long commutes to far away schools and battling city traffic for doctors appointments and therapy. We could attend them in our quiet and happy little home. We could eat lunch together, every day. Family game night came many times a week instead of a pressured one. And we finally got a really productive garden in, after years of haphazard attempts.

For the first time, I was gifted the ability to work one of my jobs from home. I was afforded the time I needed to prepare our house to be sold. The stimulus check gave us just enough money to make the repairs we needed to. And the boom in the housing market gave us the perfect window to both sell and buy-landing us in our dream home.

Overnight, nurses became “heroes” and kind messages and free meals were popping up everywhere we turned. In many ways, it felt like a long-overdue acknowledgment- 16 years for me. Suddenly the hard work I’d been doing my whole career was “extraordinary”. While the work was hard, it felt good to make a difference and to be “seen”.

There was also a lot of hope. Stay inside for a few weeks and “flattened the curve”. “Do our part now so we can celebrate beating Covid this Summer.” While the scientists predicted another uptick and a grim winter to come, we focused on the longer days and sunny weather that had already begun to show. I was energized with hope, acknowledgment and my blessings at hand.

Despite the predictions many months ago, it’s hard not to feel like we failed-as a country and as individuals to contain this virus. With cold and dark days and the numbers climbing, hope is a scarce resource now. The side-walk chalk rainbows are long washed away and the drive-by celebrations feel stale now, while the morgues continue to overflow.

On the frontlines, the adrenaline has worn off. The quick sprint that catapulted us in the Spring has dragged into a painful, seemingly never-ending marathon that I didn’t train for. And this harsh Winter, is still just beginning. The “Heroes Work Here” signs are sagging. The ‘thank-you meals’ are long gone. And the lines on our faces, from the masks and the stress, are deeper now than ever.

I am sad and lonely and really fucking tired.

I miss the people I love. I miss travel. I miss peace of mind and reassurance. I miss comradery.

I am in grief. Grief awakens old grief. And it is easy when we are “down” to replay all of our losses- a pathetic tallying of all of the miserable things that have happened to us. It’s easy to wallow in the darkness and allow ourselves to limply fall down the rabbit hole instead of climbing towards the light-because falling uses less energy. God knows, energy is one thing we’re out of – we’ve been running on fumes for a long time. 

It is easy in this dark world we are living in, for my mind to fill with all of the forms of tragedy and grief that I am faced with every day….

Family members and friends who suffer (often silently) with mental illness and traumatic histories, some hanging on by threads and others, the ‘non-covid’ losses in the pandemic.

Loved ones and icons gone too soon, often without warning or a chance to say good-bye.

Foster children, more of them now than ever, as in-home abuse escalates. And the foster parents who take on heavy risk to welcome a new exposure into their household for the greater good – who minister to children, who instead of feeling rescued… often feel like they’ve lost it all. Because all children love their parents and even their abuse/neglect was something familiar to them. Their resources are dangerously limited now and family visits are more challenging than ever with covid restrictions.

Perinatal loss families who have suffered the greatest loss there is-the loss of a child and all of the hopes and dreams attached to loving and parenting that child, many of whom can’t even hold a funeral right now. Their supportive family are kept away by travel bans. I meet new, tear-stained faces every week, that I am enlisted to guide on their heart-breaking journey. And I worry for them now more than ever.

All families of loss, whose family members are locked away in facilities that are desperately trying to keep their patients and workers safe… who are denied the visits and home-cooked meals we’ve become so accustomed to as we minister to the sick, now trapped in isolation, saying hello through a window and “good-bye” on an i-pad. 

The loss of safety and security… of innocence and independence… peace-of-mind, freedom and joy.

So here I stand, a grief worker by profession, and all the tools I hand to others, in my own bag are now dull. Getting fresh air and sunshine, the cold air stings and reflexively, I turn away from it. My gratitude list has lost its luster. Chronic stress has my joints aching and real, therapeutic movement feels like an insurmountable chore. Healthy eating habits and avoiding excessive alcohol have never been harder when you are cooped up inside and comfort foods are one of the few comforts you have left. Virtual meetings, whilst a much appreciated technology, after so many months, leave my arms aching now for a human hug.

Yet so many people have it so much harder than I do right now. My complaints feel selfish and petty. I know that I am bathed in blessings and yet everything feels so empty and so hard right now.

For many months, I thrived during this pandemic, making the best of what we had and seizing every opportunity I could. But like everything, that too came to an end. Now I’m surviving. 

 

It was a quote I heard on an episode of “Call the Midwife” when an older Jewish woman who had survived the holocaust ministered to a young girl in grief…  she said,

“You will feel better than this. Just keep living until you feel alive again.”

 

So that’s where I’m at today. With a new year around the corner, I am trying to be hopeful. I am reminded that I have done many hard things before and that nothing lasts forever.

One day, I pray soon, I….we… will feel better than this. 

So for now, we keep trying. Along with the cookies and wine, there’s dark-leafy greens. Despite, the cold, there’s windows to sit in and steps to run the laundry up and down for exercise. And in my nightstand, there’s a half-empty journal that I’ll half-heartedly scribble my blessings in, again… lest I forget them.

I’ll continue to soak in every chance I get to interact with the people I love-virtual or not; and to stop and gaze at sunsets, Christmas lights and other small beauties. I’ll continue to grow the game closet for fun, interactive, mind challenging family time; and I’ll keep trying to say “I love you” more. Because now more than ever, tomorrow is so very uncertain.

For everything that is good and worthy in this world, I will keep living… because I know from grief journeys in the past, I will one day, feel alive again. And every lesson, every hardship will make me stronger and more colorful than I was before. 

Let this New Year, let this time, be a transformative one. And let us awaken… more alive than we ever were before!

Blessings and Hope for the New Year!

 

this photos belong to Anthon Cauper – all rigths reserved by the author – solen_@hotmail.de

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Thanksgiving

I actually wrote this post in August and amongst the busyness of life, am just sitting down now to complete editing it. Upon re-reading it, I was struck by its timeliness.

In the midst of a global pandemic, working the front lines and home-schooling my children, we also moved from our home of 13 years… not to mention a plethora of life’s “other” challenges that we continue to work through.

The content of this post was inspired by my bi- monthly grocery shopping trips,  a stark change to life before the pandemic. “Sacrifice” takes on yet another new meaning now (and I’m not just referring to groceries). After such trips, the teeming fruit bowl reminded me of a stuffed cornucopia. Upon further reflection, the meaning and historical references associated with the word “Thanksgiving” yielded similarities and meanings far further reaching than a full fridge. Beyond gratitude, it is an acknowledgement of our hardships and a cautious and calculated hope for the future.

I remember being a young pupil, sitting cross-legged on the floor of our classroom, while my teacher with thick, beige panty hose, held up a large picture book and taught us about the “First Thanksgiving”- with “Squanto and friends”, an indebted invitation for their fishing and planting skills, extended by the newly settling Europeans who dreamed of religious freedom but struggled to survive in this new land- a peaceful meal was shared between them-the pilgrims and the natives.

Later that day, we made headbands out of construction paper to resemble feathers and pilgrim hats. And we wore them home proudly… telling our parents about the smart and resourceful natives that saved the sick and dying settlers and the pilgrims’ kind gesture of thanks. It was such a simple and sugar-coated version. “They taught them how to grow corn and how to fish and then they had dinner together and became friends.” It was a sweet lesson in gratitude, working together, accepting outsiders and trying new things.

So much of what we learn as a child is a lie… or at least so turned around, smoothed-over and overly-simplified that it hardly represents the often complicated and ugly truth.

Last summer, our 50 states escapades took us on a New England Road Trip. There, we spent some time in Plymouth, Mass. As per our norm, the trip consisted of part leisure, part local food and part history. So in addition to munching on fresh seafood and eccles cake, we did a bit of studying while we were there- and Thanksgiving was of course one of the subjects. What we learned was, while we don’t really know exactly what that first Thanksgiving looked like, there are two written accounts of the event-one from a participant who mentioned it in a letter and another account thought to have been written about 20 years after the event. And neither of these accounts really got noticed until about 200 years after the fact.

Whilst still a great story of our country’s early beginnings, we learned that the story we were told as children wasn’t quite accurate. We learned that many of these early New England settlers called themselves “separatists” at the time, not pilgrims. And that they wanted to make money as well as create religious theocracy (government by divine guidance/a legal system based on religious law), not just gain religious freedom from the Church of England. How very different this country would be if that had been achieved!

Most historians agree that the “invitation” to the famous meal was probably less of a formal one by the settlers, and more of an acceptance of the natives (who far out-numbered them) being in the area- for their own harvest, as well as keeping an eye on the Europeans who were reportedly, loudly celebrating and firing their guns (some things never change lol) during this 2-3 day harvest celebration.

The relationship between the natives and the settlers was often tense, as the Europeans fought to conquer and own land and the natives to defend both their way of life and the sacred earth they believed no person could own. By virtually all accounts, Squanto was deemed to be a helpful mediator between the two groups, and did reportedly teach them about farming and fishing, but was also later captured. The fall-out for the natives, many agree, was tragic. We know that many natives died as a result of exposure to European illnesses and virtually all of them were eventually pushed off their land.

While as a nation, we have continued the tradition of celebrating this harvest meal, many natives mourn the loss of their land and people as the expansion of the new world grew more from selfish means than mutual respect. Thanksgiving for them, is and always has been, a daily practice of gratitude- not a holiday. Nonetheless, there were elements of cooperation and adaptation and the holiday became official when Abraham Lincoln signed it as a means to bring together a nation divided in civil war.

The massive killings, plagues and pillaging are a part of history that we must acknowledge. And I implore the textbooks to be changed, so as to reflect as honest of a representation as we can provide. But those are not ones I’m going to dwell on here. Instead I will choose to focus on the slivers of goodness- cooperation, coexisting, adaptation, togetherness and searching for reasons to celebrate, even if those reasons aren’t perfect; because there’s enough hate and sadness right now.

As both a frontline worker in this war and a human being with my own struggles and challenges (many of which never make it to this page), I relate to the first settlers who came with a goal and suffered tremendously- whether from their own ignorance, arrogance or simple misfortune. Suffering, no matter the causation, deserves compassion. Life can be fortuitous, but it can also be terribly cruel. While they likely came with what they believed were good intentions, they paid a hefty price in the beginning, with a mortality rate of over 50%.

And the natives, strangers to the setters, who were better off at the time, offered them help. For a time, they negotiated and shared the land and resources peacefully. They bartered and traded… a practice we are seeing again, as resources are again limited and people try to minimize their trips out of the house. The natives saw people who looked and acted very differently than themselves, but they helped them all the same, because they saw that they were suffering. And we are here today because they did! While they taught the settlers how to help themselves, by teaching them how to grow new crops and hunt in this new land, it is documented that the natives also brought whole deer for the colonists to eat. (A real life example of “You can give a man a fish AND teach him to fish-it’s easier to learn how to fish when your not starving“). And the colonists (whether from desperation or not) were willing to listen and learn! Then, with those goods and skills, by working together and negotiating, they began to flourish as a colony.

The early settlers’ survival laid in the hands of accepting help from others, learning new skills and ways of doing things, accepting their new reality and embracing change. Are those not lessons that apply to us in this pandemic and current state of politics?

Many years later, Abraham Lincoln saw this story as an opportunity to bring together a divided nation… a new holiday to celebrate, when the north and the south were divided by more than just land and the issue of money and slavery pitted brothers against one another.

And here we are again… divided. Our blue and red have never seemed so far away from one another.

I don’t have all the answers on how to fix it and I hate politics. I come from such a mixed group of friends and family and embrace such a moderate viewpoint, you might as well call me purple! But I do know this:

Selfishness and hate have never helped. While selfishness may provide a short-term gain, it likely brings on a greater long-term loss. But working together for the greater good, mutual respect and love for humanity always puts us on top in the end. Many times in history, we used the way we treated natives and minorities to justify helping the economy and leading to progression. As a result, we left a huge shameful stain on our country and the repercussions continue to shake our culture. When we focused on rapid progress, we usually made big mistakes. When we focused solely on ourselves, we destroyed others. But when we considered the possibility that we could change directions and actually improve rather than combust, when we stopped talking numbers and started seeing faces, when we listened to other’s points of view, we made great strides as a nation.

While division has created much pain and damage, unity has always been our saving grace as a country- from the colonial period, to the revolution, in war times, civil rights and post 911. We survived and thrived when we came together for the greater good. Our forefathers literally advertised unity in the newspapers, because they knew how essential it was to our success as a country. And in our most trying of times in history, it was unity that allowed us to rebuild.

Fighting for the rights of minorities shouldn’t be a blue thing… nor should wearing a mask or quarantining (if science supports it for the public’s protection)… and being concerned for the economy and the over-stepping of the government shouldn’t be a red thing. Instead, considering both sides of the argument, honoring both science and freedom of religion, understanding that your liberties only go so far as to not infringe on another’s, having respectful and intelligent conversation and working towards the good of all humanity, celebrating whatever we can, that should be the American thing.

If you’re not afraid of the virus, wear a mask to respect the people around you, it literally causes you no harm. If you don’t believe you’ll get it, take pre-cautions out of respect for the healthcare system that is treading water, the same system that will fight to save your life if you do need it. Don’t think the virus is a real threat? Talk to a nurse on the frontlines in an affected area. If you don’t think the economy is a concern, why not talk to some small business owners, get their perspective and find ways to help. Instead of riots, why not build charity to assist the people you are working to defend? If you think your life is more important than another’s, try looking their mother in the eyes. Pause to read, listen and think, instead of spouting blind hatred on social media. And for every story, perspective, person you struggle to understand, I encourage you to invite them to your table-a Thanksgiving (perhaps virtually, at least for now). See them, listen to them, imagine their struggle as your own. You may not end in agreement, but the more we strive to understand one another, the more we cooperate, share ideas and work towards solutions, the stronger we become as a nation.

And be kind. While technology, healthcare, access to food and our individual freedoms have come a long way since the days of the Mayflower, life is still hard for us right now. We all need a Squanto in our lives- to teach us and lend us a helping hand. And each of us, in return have skills and ideas to share with others- hatred shouldn’t be one of those.

I am incredibly blessed to have a healthy family, a viable means of employment and a very happy and lovely new home. But I’ve also got two teenagers who have had virtually no contact with their friends in 8 months and their mental health is an every day concern of mine. I’ve got one virtual learner and one brand-new home schooler and I am overwhelmed, teaching an 8th grader by day, working night shift at the hospital, cooking healthy meals to keep us well… just living for god’s sake. I’m tired of caring for patients looking like an astronaut and I’m tired of explaining to people that this virus isn’t a farce… I see it every day people- It’s f***ing real! And yet I’m sick of my own paranoia as every ache and tickle is a covid symptom- and I’m mandated to report and get tested. And that’s just my one little story… people are out of work, businesses have folded, families have lost their loved ones, everyone is spread incredibly thin.

We need to be kinder to one another. 

And we need to be kind to ourselves. Many of us are plagued with fear, anxiety and uncertainty right now. It is effecting both our psychological and physical health. “Give yourself grace,” I often remind myself. Every day I fight my demons by practicing self-care. I reframe by struggles as “challenges” and I remind myself that most things are temporary. And like so many others, there are days that I fight to keep my head above the water. But when I’m able, I do try to keep helping others, because I know charity in-turn helps my spirit to be soothed and it helps humanity as a whole. Quiet, reflective, alone time is necessary for my ability to process and de-compress. Utilizing my therapeutic outlets and creating boundaries is essential in creating a work-life balance. Pampering always helps… whether it’s a soak in a hot bath, a yummy treat or zoning out to some meditative music for a few minutes. And in the spirit of the holiday, daily gratitude and celebrating small victories is proven to improve mental health. We must remember to take care of us, while tending to others.

 coping strategy; but togetherness is required for family function and survival. And I look Fleeing from where they came, with no modern medicine or amenities, the early settlers helplessly watched person after person die from illness, elements and starvation. And the natives had no defense against small pox or massive artillery. We have research labs, experts in virology and economy, vaccines and medicine, hospitals and government assistance. We are going to be okay… but we must learn from our mistakes and mustn’t let our fears cause us to turn on one another. We must always respect one another and remember our shared loved of humanity.

Unlike my childhood version of the first Thanksgiving, I don’t mean to overly simplify solutions or sugar-coat any of the challenges we are currently facing. In fact, I acknowledge just how ugly and complicated the truth likely is. And like everyone, I am very cautiously calculating my hope for the future. Still, truth, goodness and growth as a country are worth pursuing, always.

It has been a harsh, harsh season, and there are more hard days ahead. But like the famous meal, let us come together, count our blessings… and celebrate our victories. Because in this great country… there are so very many!

Happy Thanksgiving USA!

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.history.com/.amp/news/first-thanksgiving-colonists-native-americans-men