On "Tuesdays With Morrie"
I've been so tired this week, that I have been doing a lot of sleeping and resting and thinking. I've been tired from the post-tax letdown, and tired from not sleeping all that much of late.
When in a high-stress or intensely emotional situation, I think that I, like many people, tend to seek out ways to numb all of the feelings, and push them down, so that I don't have to deal with them. Actually feeling and experiencing your feelings is a lot harder and a lot more life-altering than simply going with the flow and pretending that whatever is happening really isn't.
I have not really dealt with my mother's death. Sometimes the anguish and pain just take me over. But, usually I push the emotions down, I don't talk about what I am feeling, and I find things in my world to occupy my mind and heart so that I do not have to deal with her passing and all of the confused and contradictory feelings associated with that loss.
I sometimes find myself doing that same thing with my feelings for other important people in my life. Occasionally they seem so overwhelming as to take over my whole being, my whole life. In a way, that's very good. I have never been able to do that before. Now, I have let my guard down, I let myself be vulnerable, and I have allowed myself to love and to be loved. That hasn't been easy for me. It takes so much more courage to feel my feelings and let my passion and compassion and affection flourish, than it does to try to replace those feelings with work. It's a scary thing to do. But, at the same time, it is exhilarating and exciting to finally love someone, and to be willing to truly experience all that loving entails.
In this case, I have been able to use my fear as a strengthener to support my courage, to surrender control, and to live my unembarrassed love as completely and totally as I am able. "My fear is my only courage, so I've got to push on through." I think that that is the hardest part, and the most gratifying. I believe that this has made me the most open and vulnerable that I have ever been in my whole life, and the most able to be committed. In some ways, it is the scariest thing I have ever experienced, but I believe that this is the only way to truly be me and to live my love and passion. The mask is gone, the walls are down, and all that's left is me, who I really am. It's such a powerful experience to know myself and connect with myself like that, and even more powerful to know and connect with someone else and to allow him to know and connect with me. I think that he knows that. I read that knowledge in his eyes, and feel it in his love.
Years ago, before my mother got ALS, before she even had breast cancer, I read the book, Tuesdays With Morrie. It was written by Mitch Albom, who also wrote that book I love so much, The 5 People You Meet in Heaven. I have read and reread The 5 People You Meet in Heaven. I had read and reread Tuesdays With Morrie, although I hadn't opened it since my mother died, it hits too close to home. I opened it just now, in writing. I remember that there are thoughts in this book that are relevant to how I feel, thoughts that apply to my current situation.
One of the most important of those thoughts, which applies to what I said above, is, "So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're busy doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning."
Before I get to that, though, I want to explain that my Mom's Lou Gehrig's disease started in her foot and her lungs. She had asthma and sarcoidosis, which made her lungs more vulnerable. She never lost her ability to sit up or to use her hands, but she could no longer stand or move her legs, and couldn't swallow, etc. She wasn't always a good woman or a kind woman. Some of that, I am sure was due to her suffering at the hands, and fists, of others. Some of that was simply due to human weakness. But, in her later years, she "found God," and she discovered her own beauty, goodness, and grace. In the many trips to Minnesota that I took, we were able to work through the lingering issues of our past. And, the last time I said goodbye to her, before heading off to a joint 40th birthday cruise with about 35 friends from high school, I knew that I would never see her alive again. And I was right. I'd never had that feeling on any other visit, but I was sure about it then.
That visit was too long, and my sisters and I, or, more specifically, Monique and I didn't get along so well. That frustrated my mother. I was so tired of her being upset, and so tired of being the "smart, evil" daughter, that I wrote my mother an email, apologizing for the things I had done wrong in the past, and asking for forgiveness. I figured, if she could forgive others, it didn't hurt to ask! Here is the email she answered with, the last email I ever received from her:
Dearest Nana,
I am sooo proud of you! Congratulations on 1/ your new degree 2/ your new and beautiful car and 3/ your new and beautiful job! How could you say you're not the daughter I wanted you to be? You've beaten incredible odds to accomplish alot, both personally and professionally and it makes me very happy for you.
This will have to be short because I don't feel tip top today. Know that you ARE the daughter I've
always known you could be and I love you very much.
Love always,
MOMMA
Exactly one week later, she passed away.
Anyway, I wanted to write about some of the things that Albom speaks of in Tuesdays With Morrie, because some of these have been in the back of my mind in my relationships. For example, that "dying is only one thing to be sad over [...] living unhappily is something else." Sharing my love and my life with someone, even from a different house, for the time being, is significant in allowing me to live happily. For that, I am thankful.
On Being Happy:
"The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn't work, don't buy it." I think of that line sometimes. I spoke to my sister, Michele, a bit, last night. She may not be able to come out in May, because of my niece's activities this summer, as she was going to bring my oldest niece with her. So I asked her to come out in September. She's funny, that one.
On Death:
"Everybody knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently." That is what I am trying to do with my life and my love in the months since my mother died. I want to be true to myself, while honoring the people around me as well as myself. "Do what the Buddhists do. Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all that I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?'" With certain friends, with Morgan and Mikaël, with my sister, and, to the extent possible, in general, I try to live that way, doing what I need to do, and being the person I want to be.
“As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away. All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on—in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here. […] Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
That all reminds me of the words to a Warren Zevon song that makes me cry and makes me think of my Mom:
“Shadows are falling
And I’m running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for a while
If I leave you it doesn’t mean
I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for a while.”
My Mom ran out of breath on the evening of July 30th of last year. That was it, she just stopped being. I still haven’t allowed myself to feel the pain. It’s too hard. It costs too much. And I still haven’t finished loving her.
On Feeling:
"Take any emotion--love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or [...] fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions--if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them--you can never get to being detached; you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is...." "I thought about how often this was needed in everyday life. [...]How we feel a surge of love for a partner but we don't say anything because we're frozen with the fear of what those words might do to the relationship. Morrie's approach was exactly the opposite. Turn on the faucet. Wash yourself with the emotion. It won't hurt you. It will only help you."
“Tears are okay. It’s not just other people we need to forgive, we also need to forgive ourselves […] for all the things we didn’t do. All the things we should have done. You can’t get stuck on the regrets of what should have happened. That doesn’t help. I used to beat myself up over it. Now I see that never did any good. Make peace. You need to make peace with yourself and everyone around you. Forgive yourself. Forgive others. Don’t wait. Not everybody gets the time. […] Not everybody is as lucky.”
On Love:
I am slowly learning and accepting the fact that "the most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in. [...] Let it come in. We think we don't deserve love; we think if we let it in we'll become too soft. But [...] Love is the only rational act."
"The very thought of you
and I forget to do
the little things that everyone ought to do...”
On Marriage:
"This is part of what family is about." Family is not just about love, "but letting others know there's someone who is watching out for them. [...] Nobody else will give you that. Not money. Not fame. Not work."
“There are a few rules I know to be true about love and marriage: If you don’t respect the other person, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. If you don’t know how to compromise, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. And if you don’t have a common set of values in life, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. […] And the biggest one of those values? […] Your belief in the importance of your marriage. Personally, I think marriage is a very important thing to do, and you’re missing a hell of a lot if you don’t try it. Love each other or perish.”
When in a high-stress or intensely emotional situation, I think that I, like many people, tend to seek out ways to numb all of the feelings, and push them down, so that I don't have to deal with them. Actually feeling and experiencing your feelings is a lot harder and a lot more life-altering than simply going with the flow and pretending that whatever is happening really isn't.
I have not really dealt with my mother's death. Sometimes the anguish and pain just take me over. But, usually I push the emotions down, I don't talk about what I am feeling, and I find things in my world to occupy my mind and heart so that I do not have to deal with her passing and all of the confused and contradictory feelings associated with that loss.
I sometimes find myself doing that same thing with my feelings for other important people in my life. Occasionally they seem so overwhelming as to take over my whole being, my whole life. In a way, that's very good. I have never been able to do that before. Now, I have let my guard down, I let myself be vulnerable, and I have allowed myself to love and to be loved. That hasn't been easy for me. It takes so much more courage to feel my feelings and let my passion and compassion and affection flourish, than it does to try to replace those feelings with work. It's a scary thing to do. But, at the same time, it is exhilarating and exciting to finally love someone, and to be willing to truly experience all that loving entails.
In this case, I have been able to use my fear as a strengthener to support my courage, to surrender control, and to live my unembarrassed love as completely and totally as I am able. "My fear is my only courage, so I've got to push on through." I think that that is the hardest part, and the most gratifying. I believe that this has made me the most open and vulnerable that I have ever been in my whole life, and the most able to be committed. In some ways, it is the scariest thing I have ever experienced, but I believe that this is the only way to truly be me and to live my love and passion. The mask is gone, the walls are down, and all that's left is me, who I really am. It's such a powerful experience to know myself and connect with myself like that, and even more powerful to know and connect with someone else and to allow him to know and connect with me. I think that he knows that. I read that knowledge in his eyes, and feel it in his love.
Years ago, before my mother got ALS, before she even had breast cancer, I read the book, Tuesdays With Morrie. It was written by Mitch Albom, who also wrote that book I love so much, The 5 People You Meet in Heaven. I have read and reread The 5 People You Meet in Heaven. I had read and reread Tuesdays With Morrie, although I hadn't opened it since my mother died, it hits too close to home. I opened it just now, in writing. I remember that there are thoughts in this book that are relevant to how I feel, thoughts that apply to my current situation.
One of the most important of those thoughts, which applies to what I said above, is, "So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're busy doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning."
Before I get to that, though, I want to explain that my Mom's Lou Gehrig's disease started in her foot and her lungs. She had asthma and sarcoidosis, which made her lungs more vulnerable. She never lost her ability to sit up or to use her hands, but she could no longer stand or move her legs, and couldn't swallow, etc. She wasn't always a good woman or a kind woman. Some of that, I am sure was due to her suffering at the hands, and fists, of others. Some of that was simply due to human weakness. But, in her later years, she "found God," and she discovered her own beauty, goodness, and grace. In the many trips to Minnesota that I took, we were able to work through the lingering issues of our past. And, the last time I said goodbye to her, before heading off to a joint 40th birthday cruise with about 35 friends from high school, I knew that I would never see her alive again. And I was right. I'd never had that feeling on any other visit, but I was sure about it then.
That visit was too long, and my sisters and I, or, more specifically, Monique and I didn't get along so well. That frustrated my mother. I was so tired of her being upset, and so tired of being the "smart, evil" daughter, that I wrote my mother an email, apologizing for the things I had done wrong in the past, and asking for forgiveness. I figured, if she could forgive others, it didn't hurt to ask! Here is the email she answered with, the last email I ever received from her:
Dearest Nana,
I am sooo proud of you! Congratulations on 1/ your new degree 2/ your new and beautiful car and 3/ your new and beautiful job! How could you say you're not the daughter I wanted you to be? You've beaten incredible odds to accomplish alot, both personally and professionally and it makes me very happy for you.
This will have to be short because I don't feel tip top today. Know that you ARE the daughter I've
always known you could be and I love you very much.
Love always,
MOMMA
Exactly one week later, she passed away.
Anyway, I wanted to write about some of the things that Albom speaks of in Tuesdays With Morrie, because some of these have been in the back of my mind in my relationships. For example, that "dying is only one thing to be sad over [...] living unhappily is something else." Sharing my love and my life with someone, even from a different house, for the time being, is significant in allowing me to live happily. For that, I am thankful.
On Being Happy:
"The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn't work, don't buy it." I think of that line sometimes. I spoke to my sister, Michele, a bit, last night. She may not be able to come out in May, because of my niece's activities this summer, as she was going to bring my oldest niece with her. So I asked her to come out in September. She's funny, that one.
On Death:
"Everybody knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently." That is what I am trying to do with my life and my love in the months since my mother died. I want to be true to myself, while honoring the people around me as well as myself. "Do what the Buddhists do. Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all that I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?'" With certain friends, with Morgan and Mikaël, with my sister, and, to the extent possible, in general, I try to live that way, doing what I need to do, and being the person I want to be.
“As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away. All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on—in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here. […] Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
That all reminds me of the words to a Warren Zevon song that makes me cry and makes me think of my Mom:
“Shadows are falling
And I’m running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for a while
If I leave you it doesn’t mean
I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for a while.”
My Mom ran out of breath on the evening of July 30th of last year. That was it, she just stopped being. I still haven’t allowed myself to feel the pain. It’s too hard. It costs too much. And I still haven’t finished loving her.
On Feeling:
"Take any emotion--love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or [...] fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions--if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them--you can never get to being detached; you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is...." "I thought about how often this was needed in everyday life. [...]How we feel a surge of love for a partner but we don't say anything because we're frozen with the fear of what those words might do to the relationship. Morrie's approach was exactly the opposite. Turn on the faucet. Wash yourself with the emotion. It won't hurt you. It will only help you."
“Tears are okay. It’s not just other people we need to forgive, we also need to forgive ourselves […] for all the things we didn’t do. All the things we should have done. You can’t get stuck on the regrets of what should have happened. That doesn’t help. I used to beat myself up over it. Now I see that never did any good. Make peace. You need to make peace with yourself and everyone around you. Forgive yourself. Forgive others. Don’t wait. Not everybody gets the time. […] Not everybody is as lucky.”
On Love:
I am slowly learning and accepting the fact that "the most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in. [...] Let it come in. We think we don't deserve love; we think if we let it in we'll become too soft. But [...] Love is the only rational act."
"The very thought of you
and I forget to do
the little things that everyone ought to do...”
On Marriage:
"This is part of what family is about." Family is not just about love, "but letting others know there's someone who is watching out for them. [...] Nobody else will give you that. Not money. Not fame. Not work."
“There are a few rules I know to be true about love and marriage: If you don’t respect the other person, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. If you don’t know how to compromise, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. And if you don’t have a common set of values in life, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. […] And the biggest one of those values? […] Your belief in the importance of your marriage. Personally, I think marriage is a very important thing to do, and you’re missing a hell of a lot if you don’t try it. Love each other or perish.”
posted by Nana @ 20:47
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