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Saturday, April 26, 2014

... ...

...No words.    That's how I keep feeling, what I keep saying.  I have no words for what my life is at this moment--not a single feeling word in my entire counselor and teacher vocabulary can truly identify what I feel at this moment.  What I've felt since that phone call.

A phone call meant to inform me that my little brother, my only brother, was dead.  That word always looks wrong when I type it.  Sounds so final and ugly when I use it in a sentence to explain why I was gone for a week from class and work.  Your dog dies, a deer is on the side of the road, dead...but people...they "pass on" or "move on" or "go to a better place" or "get called home."  But, what if that person, like my brother, didn't really believe in a  higher power or in the idea of moving on?  What if dead really is just dead?  As ugly and final as it sounds, it's almost liberating to use the "truth" when talking to people, when labeling for myself what happened.  He is dead.  He is not coming back.  Maybe he did move on, find peace, and now looks down on me...but, I don't know that for a fact...and neither does anyone who tells me that is what is happening.  In fact, most of those people would say, on a different day, that an individual who believed, spiritually, what my brother believed or behaved in some of the ways in which he behaved would not deserve to "find peace" in their religious world.  This makes me angry.  But cynical and angry is not all that I feel.

I feel nostalgic.  I feel disconnected.  The Glenn I knew is so different from the Glenn so many people are discussing on Facebook.  So much more complicated.  So much more in pain.  So many more parts than many of these people ever know existed.  I guess that's how it is with siblings--you see them in all their glory and in all their shit.  You see them at their best, their worst, and can see past the mask they put on for so many others.  I miss the Glenn before life got complicated--the one who pretended he couldn't care less what others thought but felt rejection so deeply.  The one who wouldn't say I love you, but instead would call me "Fat Man", the one who even though he didn't say it, I could feel the love and pride bleeding through him for our little sister and I.  I wish I knew the Glenn everyone else who has met him in the past couple years knew--the protector, the bear hugger, the funny guy.  But, I saw the Glenn behind that mask, the one who hurt so deeply from what he experienced during war that he was plagued by nightmares and a need to run away.  I saw a Glenn who was lost, not sure what he needed or where to get it.  And that makes me feel like a horrible person, a terrible sister.

I feel selfish.  Maybe I could have reached out more to that hidden Glenn.  Maybe I wouldn't feel so incomplete if he didn't die before we completely reconciled.  Maybe I needed to just accept him for what he chose to show the world, instead of pushing for him to be "him."  Perhaps I would've gotten more "Fat Man's" if I just let him run.  But, then I wouldn't be his big sister, would I? 

I feel jipped.  I feel scared.  One of my children will never have the opportunity to meet him and the other three will likely not remember him as anything more than a photo on the mantle and stories of a couple family trips.  One thing that showed through his mask of late was his pride in being an uncle and his love for my girls, the twinkle in his eye when they would interact with him, and the sadness when that beard of his would make them a little nervous to go near him.  He once spent nearly an hour on the sidewalk outside of a restaurant in Charleston, SC holding and rocking my youngest.  I haven't seen him so content or proud in years...maybe never.  I thought we had years, decades.  I fully planned to do family trips and to have my kids watch his and our sister's future kids--because he would have them...just not for years.  I just knew it.  I feel so wrong.  All these feelings are compounded every time I watch my girls play, watch them hug each other.  Every time they fight or say mean things to one another.  I can't imagine the possibility of them losing one another, but I can't stop my mind from going there.  I can barely keep myself from reminding them to treat each other well and to never let a fight last over night between each other every single day.

Then, if possible, I feel nothing.  I have no motivation, no drive.  I stare at the computer for hours attempting to thank people for their concern and condolences or get a paper written for school.  I try to feel something besides mild annoyance that I can't grieve at the moment when going through the motions of parenthood or when Aaron tries to interact with me or support me.

I know this is a ridiculous stream of consciousness, but I've been struggling for nearly two weeks trying to find words.  Trying to say what is happening inside of me.  And this doesn't do it justice.  Doesn't do him justice.  Doesn't do US justice. 

I lost my brother.  My best childhood friend.  My protector and the thorn in my side.  He died way too early for no clear reason.  It's not fair.  It is the most awful thing I have ever had to experience, yet, I feel like I'm not experiencing it.  And I can't describe how it feels or what I'm thinking because I am feeling and thinking everything and nothing all at once.  There aren't words for this, because words come from prior experiences.  This experience is like nothing else.  I lost a part of me--a part I can't even remember living without.  I lost an integral building block of who and what I am.  I lost a part of my identity and can never rebuild it.  I, my children, lost days, weeks, months, years of interactions that would have contributed to who I am, they are.  That is a pain that is indescribable.

**I know many other people are experiencing similar pain and loss.  I do not want to take away for your pain, I was just trying to unpack mine.  I can't even begin to describe the additional layer of pain I feel for my parents, my sister, my Grammy....those who called Glenn friend, or brother in arms, those who had him in their lives on a daily basis.  My heart aches for all of you, for all of us.**

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Out of chaos and exhaustion arises a sense of drive and fulfillment.

Well...I survived the time leading up to and into spring break as well as spring break and the professional conference.  What I haven't been able to do is recover.  I am EXHAUSTED!  It seems to be just one crazy time into another into another with no break time.  I should probably do my best to get used to this feeling as adding another baby and a 20 hour a week practicum (basically unpaid internship) to the mix isn't going to do much to increase my nap time or lessen my load.

In good/other news--I found the conference I attended to be well worth the time and cost.  It served as professional rejuvenation, in a sense.  I was starting to feel bogged down and as if I may be wasting my time...starting to question whether I could really make the change that I wanted post graduation or if it was all just wishful thinking.  This conference suggested multiple times that the type of change I want to have a hand in is not only exactly the type of change that needs to be occurring in the next couple years, but also that it is likely to be one of the main directions of my chosen profession.  I left the conference feeling validated and invigorated--ready to take on more research and wade through the mass of assignments I have due in the next month or so.  The push for actively advocating instead of pontificating on advocacy theory is precisely my long term goal.  This is what I am driven to do, to advocate for change in how difficult youth are viewed and treated in larger organizational/institutional settings--to push for more understanding, more focus on the importance of relationship in empathy and resiliency building.  Additionally, I felt heard.  I felt that my opinion, as inexperienced as it may be at a professional gathering, mattered and had worth and MEANT something.  It validated my belief that this is the career path for me, that my research interests (such as in my poster presentation on the importance of addressing attachment theory in practicum and internship training) align with some of those who are already in the field, that I am able to answer complex questions regarding my areas of interest and ADD to the conversation, not just take from it.  I am starting to feel a sense of belonging that I never quite felt in any of my prior professional/schooling experiences and it makes me that much more motivated and driven. 

As for the family side of things...I can't even put into words how amazing it was to watch my girls running around on a nearly empty beach in the late afternoon sunshine.  Each of them ran with pure elation and abandonment, gleefully screaming, as they chased birds, the water, and one another.  Pure joy is not something we see very often, but when we do, it is so contagious.  I literally could have sat there for hours soaking in their laughter, bright smiles, and little awkward running gaits.  I can't remember the last time I felt that kind of joy, of hope, of freedom from anything worrisome or dark.  I am so very grateful to have the opportunity to live vicariously through them, to be reminded of the wonder of nature, sand, sun, and the sea, to be filled with the feel of reckless abandon that comes with sprinting down the beach, laughing out loud, and kicking up sand and water, to be privy to the loving and breathless embraces and "this is the best time ever's" I would receive in between bird and wave chasing, and to witness the love and tenderness they showed one another as they wove between each other and carefully picked one another up if they happened to stumble.

Not often does an individual get a chance to be reminded of the importance of two of their major life roles in the same week--not like this.  I feel blessed to attempt to maintain this balance and to find joy and purpose in both ends.

Where have you found a sense of purpose?  of joy?  Do you believe the two often occur together or are they completely separate from one another for you?  Please feel free to share you thoughts or experiences--I want to learn from all of you!

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Go, Go, Go and BREATHE--my midterm week and the promise of a break on the horizon

It is that time of year.  Those of you who have experienced any type of college education know what I am talking about...the week before spring break.  Also known as the week that all midterm projects, tests, papers, etc. are thrown into.  Those of you who have experienced parenthood know what I am talking about as well...the dreaded flu season.  Also known as the week that all of you children will wake in the middle of the night with projectile vomiting, exploding diapers, and/or any number of whiny aches and pains and a strong desire to do nothing more than cling to you side for at least 24, usually 72, hours straight.  AND in what is my traditional "luck of the draw"--if you want to call it luck--these two weeks seem to always...yes, i said ALWAYS fall either back to back or on top of one another.  It may be God's way of trying to prove to me that procrastination may not actually be the best way to cruise through my doctoral program...

Anyways, what this basically means for my family and I is that I, the student, is getting very little sleep and many, many hours in front of computer screens and a "Power Analysis Assignment" in the hope of at least completing the three main assignments due this midterm week, particularly since I, the mama, spent the majority of last week cuddling, consoling, holding hair, and changing bedsheets instead of getting a "head start".  Additionally, I am short on patience and time, and trying so very, very hard to not lose myself (or any of that precious time) daydreaming about several days in Charleston--one of my favorite places to be.  Of course, that also means I should somehow be packing a weeks worth of clothes and gear for myself and three small children--not to mention figuring out the logistics surrounding getting myself and the youngest, and just our clothes and gear, to Atlanta for a conference for the second half of the week.

So, for anyone interested here's my week schedule:

SUNDAY
spent nearly 7 hours working on research paper for policy class focused on the role of psychologists in national security.  The other hours were spent attempting church with girls and my husband (most of which I chased the youngest around the atrium and dealt with the resulting temper tantrums after barring her way into the men's restroom on several occasions) and dinner at my husbands parents.

MONDAY
took girls to daycare, spent the entire 8 hour work day completing the policy paper followed by 4 hour policy class.  Home by 10:30 pm.

TUESDAY
oldest through tantrums most of morning regarding the barrette I put in her hair--apparently on the wrong side, took girls to school, actually did some work for GA, attempted to outline concepts from social psychology class in which the final is to "integrate material from different sources and perhaps with different histories, theoretical sources, etc.  The idea is to see the overlap, mutual implications.  You are to do 3 of these with a maximum of 2 pages each.  Each will analyze 3 concepts.  Find three different concepts from different sources that are related."  Get frustrated with the open endedness of this exam and write the current blog post.  Go to class from 1-5, then assist in teaching Master's level course till 8.  Go home and attempt to finish outlining social psych concepts.

WEDNESDAY
take girls to school (tantrums likely to occur), write social psych midterm--will likely take me till at least three.  Begin to work on the 10 question power analysis assignment--this is second year of stats work and I'm over my head.  Go home spend time putting girls to bed...maybe talk to husband for a few moments...continue to work on stats.

THURSDAY
make breakfast for girls, take them to gym so I can have two additional hours to complete stats work, consider then taking them home and doing early naps to have additional time.  Go to class, turn in social psych final, pretend I read anything this week for next class, pick up poster for presentation at conference in Atlanta, slide finished stats under professors door and go to evening class.

FRIDAY
run around like a mad women, attempt to keep patience with girls, and pack for trip.  Travel all night.

SATURDAY
soak up the beautiful sun and warmth and hospitality that is Charleston.  Enjoy good food and a beautiful walk with my girls.  and BREATHE.

**Attempt to eat relatively regularly and healthily throughout the week--there is a baby growing inside of me, after all**

Luckily this isn't how most weeks look...at least not this hectic.  But, this is a reality and the likelihood this will occur as nicely as described is rather small...particularly with that flu bug continuing to hang around.  So, wish me luck, send a few extra moments my way, and I hope anyone facing either of these terrible weeks (or both) is able to find a way to successfully wade through and find the time and chance to breathe at the end.

How do you etch out a few moments in stressful weeks to stop and breathe?  How do you know you have pushed yourself too far--what is your breaking point where you think enough is enough, I need a breather?