Thinking about home..

Tonight, I am missing home. I don't think it's home as in the place, but more of the feeling of home. The comfort of being near people that I love is what I am missing.

When I moved to New York, I quickly found a niche of people (mostly North Carolinians) that became my group of friends. In the 2+ years I've been here, every single one of those individuals has moved away. It's scary to be alone in this city and it hurts to think about how far away every one I love really is.

When I think about missing home, I think about the home I knew about two and a half years ago. I had family, I had friends, and they were all right there. Though I didn't see each and every one of them all the time, the fact that they were there was a comfort. I have no comfort of home here.

Sometimes I think back on my reasonings for moving here. What was I really looking for? The obvious answer is that I came to work, to make a career for myself, but as that is now, I'm not really finding myself on a path to a career. Did I move for independence? Possibly, and I have certainly found that here, but I was pretty independent before as well. A lot of people think I moved to run away from my problems. I guess in a way, that is true too. Moving here helped me to overcome an extreme emotional low point in my life.

When people ask me why I moved away, I don't really have an answer for them. I just shrug my shoulders and say, "I just did." Most of the time, I am happy with my decision to move away from home.

But, on nights like this when I feel alone, I wish for a time when the comforts of home could coincide with my life as it is now. And, I wonder if it will ever happen.

Thinking of Dads

Today, I spent some time with my thoughts to think about my dad. And, while I was remembering all of the amazing things he has done, and all of the wonderful traits he has, I could only think of his father, my grandfather, who is the reason he is the way he is at all.

I was so overwhelmed with thoughts of how great he was. A man who had everything we all strive for; wisdom, skill, kindness, love, and passion. I miss him. So much.

I love my father dearly and I am so thankful to have such a wonderful person in my life to look up to. I hope each of you took some time today to share time or words or thoughts with your fathers. And to those of you who may be remembering fathers past, I send thoughts of peace your way. For, no matter where they go, we carry them in our hearts. Always.

Happy Fathers Day -

Goin' to Carolina

I took a boy home.

There have been many many thoughts and dreams (some nightmares) about eventually bringing someone new back home with me to meet the family. And, I did it. Originally, my plan was to infiltrate slowly. Have the boy meet the family in small groups, slowly, as to not overwhelm him. If you know my family, you know that while they're incredibly warm and welcoming, they can also be very intimidating.

When I went home for Easter, I hated being away from Craig. I know it sounds stupid and silly, but I got comfortable being with him, talking to him all the time, and having that security of him being there. In fact, before then, I saw him at least once a day and usually wouldn't go more than an hour or two without talking to him. I was experiencing some major withdrawal.

I couldn't stop talking about him. Before, I was keeping information about him pretty quiet, because I didn't want to go on and on about something that wasn't going to last, but I couldn't keep it in any longer. I'm sure my family must have gotten tired of hearing about him so much, but it seemed that there was nothing else I could talk about.

Family, to me, has always been a vital part of my life and it was always very important to me that my significant other understand and embrace that as well. So, when Craig told me that he was interested in meeting my family, I was ecstatic. I certainly wouldn't go to that level until we were both ready, but when we realized that we were ready to share our relationship with our families, it all just seemed so natural.

We booked the tickets and planned a long weekend in Carolina for Memorial Day.

When we booked the tickets, I was nervous. Really nervous. Would they like him? Would they approve? And, more importantly, would he like them? What if was too much for him, what if the family was too much to handle? The weekend had the ability to turn out amazing, or devastating.

Not to mention that my mother was planning the party of the decade, inviting both sides of the families. This was not going to be the slow "meet my family" process I had envisioned. This wasn't even going off the deep-end. This was the ocean.

Though, as the weeks went on, I moved from nervous to excited. I couldn't wait to go back home and show off my new addition. I knew they'd like him, but I still wasn't sure how they would be received by him.

We're different, he and I. While we grew up with very similar family values and ideals and we share a lot of the same goals, our lives as children were very different. Financially, we were on opposite ends of the spectrum. He, just minutes from one of the largest cities in the world, and I, a good 30 minute drive to the nearest mall (not even a good one either!) I have cows just over the fence from my backyard that we use often for bonfire parties and he has shapely manicured lawns with fenced-in pools. I was nervous about showing him where I came from. Sure, I have a little "small town" in me, and he can certainly see that. But, my lifestyle certainly has changed now that I'm living in New York. What would he think of the girl that used to go have a Mountain Dew slushie from Sheetz on Friday nights instead of going to bars and clubs? Would he like the food? Would he understand how I could miss that tiny little town?

More importantly, would he feel differently about me when he realizes I grew up with hand-me-down clothes and sharing a bedroom with my sister? Would he think my “roots” were too Southern? Would he find my family dynamics to be less than desirable? I worried, panicked even, for days. I tried to describe to him how I was feeling, explaining my worries, but he assured me that nothing could change the way he feels about me. Still, my mind wouldn’t quiet.

He was a nervous wreck. I can’t blame him, however, because I was unnaturally nervous when I met his mother and father, sister and brother. Even more so when he added in a few cousins, aunts, uncles, and a grandmother! Fortunately for me, it was a slower process. I can’t imagine what he was feeling sitting on a plane knowing that he’d be meeting 40+ of my family members in 2 days.

The flight in was fine, a bit delayed by about 10-15 minutes, but nothing major. My mom and sister were at the airport in NORMAL clothes (I was seriously thinking they would dress up like hillbillies) and no big flashing signs. Such a relief!

While my impression of the weekend as a whole is one of “it was great!”, I’m still not completely sure what he feels about the whole thing. I assured him that my family is much easier to navigate when they’re in smaller groups (meaning, mom side/dad side) and I’ve assured myself that my family knowing him the way I do will take some time.

Since we don’t live near them, this process will be slow-going and in short, quick segments. I only hope that my family could see how amazing he really is.

So my first time bringing a boy home was not as terrifying as my mind made it out to be. After all, my family only wants to see me happy, and once they see that he is the one that is making it happen, they’ll love him as much as I do.

It is my hope that we can go back again soon, this time: no worries.

10 Awesome Things My Mother Taught Me

Yesterday was Mother's Day. I hope you all had wonderful times with your mothers and really showed them that you love them. I, unfortunately, could not be with my mother yesterday, but I spent a lot of time this week thinking about what mothers mean to us and how we can properly honor them for everything they have done for us.

I spent Mothers Day with Craig and his family in Long Island. To me, it wasn't so much a celebration of mothers, but a celebration of families. Which, isn't that really what Mother's Day is about, anyway? It was a day full of food, family, and laughter. And though I missed my own family very much, being with his family reminded me that family is universal. Love is universal. I am so grateful to have a "surrogate" family so accepting of me. It actually kind of felt like being home.

My mother is a teacher. It takes a special kind of person to become a teacher and share passions with others. But, even more than a teacher of students, she is a teacher of children; her own children. So, I thought that the best way to honor my mother would be to note her teaching accomplishments - though in a different way. So, here are the top ten amazing things my mother has taught me.

1. How to read
I don’t mean this one to be so literal. Yes, technically, my mother taught me how to read as a child. She read to me every single night before bed and one night, I said, “I’m going to read to you!” “Ha! Okay, go ahead!” she said, thinking I would ramble something about the pictures on the pages. I read each page, carefully holding the giant book in my little hands. My mom was skeptical. “She’s memorized it,” she thought. But as she handed me book after book, I read each one aloud to her. Her passion for books and the time we spent bonding over them before bed started my love of reading. More important than the ability to read, she taught me to value reading and how to read for pleasure. Sure, reading books for school is fine, but she opened a new world for me; one where you could get lost in a book, become friends with fictional characters, and change your life in 500 pages. We would sometimes share a special bond, where one of us would slink down the stairs in the morning, clearly exhausted. “Did you not sleep?” “No, I had to finish that book.” It’s understood.

2. How to create
It’s no secret that my family is one of creators. My grandfather builds beautiful pieces out of wood, my grandmother sews, my father builds, the list goes on and on, but my mother has always been an advocate for creative thinking. From the first time I used a sewing machine to make my very own outfit. My mother patiently watched, carefully helped, while allowing me to experience it all on my own. It was mine. I made it. In my mother’s eyes, anything I could ever want could be made. Because of this, I have a hard time shopping for anything without thinking, “I could make that.” Arts and crafts have always been a soothing experience for me. I studied graphic design in college. The ‘art’ of creating is in my blood.

3. How to work hard
My mother works hard. She really does. She’s a teacher of music and drama at two schools, the choir director at a church, and she’s a full time mother, sister, daughter, and wife. She’s a “leave at 7:00am, come home at 9:00pm” type of woman. And, she wouldn’t have it any other way. If there’s one thing my mother has, it’s a stellar work ethic. It’s inspiring.

4. “Wear lipstick”
Back in middle school, I fought with my mother constantly about her not allowing me to wear makeup. I thought that in order to fit in with the other students in the school, I too needed to wear blue eyeshadow and mascara every day. After granting me permission and purchasing a few things for me, she quickly found that I favored eye makeup over anything else. “Wear lipstick, you look sick without it,” she would warn. It wasn’t until I got to college that I really understood what she was saying. She was telling me that I have a feature that is beautiful and I wasn’t showing it off. She could see that I looked better, healthier, and happier with a shade of pink on my lips.

5. “Family is vital”
My parents never really had an abundance of friends. Sure, they have their social circles and I’ve met many of their close friends, but they never had friends like some other parents I knew. It was because of family. Coming from a large family, you have built-in friends. People who will help you, come to your aid, listen to your problems, offer advice, and sometimes, drive you crazy. There was no problem I could have that couldn’t have been fixed by a family member. And, since birth, my siblings and I were always taught (and shown) the value of a loving family. It is my hope that I one day can have a family of my own that can expand the already beautiful family I have now. And with those children, I will instill the same values that my mother and father taught me. Family is vital.

6. How to be self-sufficient
My mother didn’t “baby” me. Sure, she took care of things I could not handle, but knew me well enough to understand my need for independence and my abilities to take care of it myself. She nurtured me in the way of self-sufficiency. Do you need a shirt washed? Take care of it. Do you need 50 cupcakes for your class tomorrow? I’ll teach you how to bake them. It might sound a little like neglect, but it was nothing like that. She was slowly teaching me how to be an individual, how to take care of myself so I can one day effectively take care of others.

7. “Let it go”
Forgiveness is difficult. Yet, my mother seems to be a master at it. Sure, she can hold a grudge for a little while, but after a short time, she just lets it go. I can admit, begrudgingly, that I do not have the same abilities to forgive and let go as she does. But she shows me that it is possible, and those things you hold onto only prevent you from experiencing the new and good in the world. This is a lesson she is still teaching me.

8. Appreciation of music, theater, and performing arts
My mother is music. She always has been, always will be. It is through her that I have an appreciation for music. One of my oldest memories of my mother’s music was a time she was singing at a wedding. “Morning Has Broken” I can still remember the beautiful song, even though I was probably only 4 years old. As she sang, me sitting in between my brother and father, I can remember the pride I felt. That’s MY mother. She sings, and it’s beautiful. Genetically, I didn’t receive the same singing abilities as my sister and brother, but she still passed to me a divine love of the arts and theater. I danced, I played the flute, I helped in every musical and concert she put on. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I know of its importance and I still value the discipline it taught me.

9. Be generous
She is one of the most generous people I know. Even when there isn’t much to give, she gives what she has. She is generous in her time, her talents, and service. It is inspiring how she has taken the skills and abilities she has been given and helps others with it. Whether it be teaching music for Vacation Bible School kids or cooking meals for sick neighbors, she offers what she can.

10. How to love
If my mother does anything, she loves. She raised three children who all grew up knowing that they were loved. Never did we have to question if our parents loved us. It was known. It IS known. She loves her parents, and my father’s parents. She loves her siblings, her in-laws, she loves her students, and she loves all those who surround her. In the same way, she loves my father and is a perfect example of how to foster a relationship and keep it healthy. When I had my heart broken in a million pieces, she said, “I only hope this doesn’t affect your ability to love.” She knew that to truly love another (and to have them love you in the same way) was something incredibly special and she didn’t want me to miss out on that experience.


My mother has taught me a lot of things, but in her mind, there are no categories. There are no “Top 10 Lists”. She taught me all of these things because she wanted me to be a beautiful person, inside and out. She knew my entire life that I could do amazing things and she wanted me to believe it too. So, thank you, Mom; for everything you’ve taught me – and for what you continue to teach me every single day!

Daughter, Once Removed

I spent my entire life surrounded and encompassed by family members. Massive amounts of family members. Never was it just my brother and sister, mother and father. There was always an aunt, uncle, cousin, or grandparent. Always.

Until now.

A lot of my first year in New York was spent remaining in constant contact with those I love the most. But, in the past 6 months, communication has dwindled. In fact, communication at all is rare. Of course, many things have happened that could account for the lack of conversation. My grandfather's death, my father's cancer, and my general unemployment are all things that are just too difficult to talk about; and since those things encompass 80% of my life, there's not much else to speak of. It's my own fault, really. I didn't have good news to share, so I stopped sharing everything. I stopped calling, I stopped asking, and in turn, I stopped getting called, I stopped getting asked.

Most of the time, I coast along on general apathy, not bothering to worry too much about my future. I am accepting the fact that what is to happen will happen and I accept that. I apply for jobs and continue to look for things to open up doors for me, but the stress of constantly worrying about it became too much, so I stopped.

Yet, on nights like tonight, I feel the pressure. The pressure of my life and the unknown feels like being too far underwater. My chest gets tight, my muscles tense, and I long for the comforts I once knew. I miss the comfort of my room at home, just across the hall from my parents. I miss the closeness of my grandparents, knowing that I could see them in 5 minutes if I wanted to. I miss being the daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, niece I used to be. I miss the all-knowing family I had. I never had to tell about my problems, they just knew. Things were easy.

I guess it's part of growing up. I've had to remove myself from my close-knit family in order to find out who I really am. Have I figured that out yet? Certainly not. But, I'm trying. And maybe I'm getting closer. Maybe.

Break the levee

I don't cry very often.

That may seem an unusual statement to a lot of you because I'm kind of a sap, but it's true. I don't cry very often. Sure, I feel like crying a lot; I often get that lump in my throat that begs to be soothed by giant puddles forming in my eyes, but I rarely allow it to come to fruition. Seriously, I get that feeling over the smallest things. A sappy commercial, phone calls from friends and family, books, special emails, seeing happy children in parks, and standing ovations at the end of performances. But, I've always found a way to keep it inside.

I was always the peacemaker in my family. Always the one that tried to patch things up when they weren't going smoothly, or when people fought. That's not to say that I never started anything (my siblings would attest to that!), but overall, since I was a young girl, being the rock was where I felt I belonged.

Because of that, I have often kept my feelings to myself, hid my emotion during tough times and instead helped others through their pain. And, it seems, that because of my "need to be strong for every one else", I have isolated myself and find myself alone.

I cry alone.

Last week, a North Carolina man by the name of Dick Carson died. He had a malignant tumor that was found too late. A member of the Elon church where my mother works (and where my family attends service on the regular), my family knew Mr. Carson well. During my father's last chemotherapy treatment, he sat next to Mr. Carson, both receiving a slow medicated cocktail to cure their deadly disease. Today, my father went in for his last chemo treatment of 2009, Dick Carson, of course, was not there.

I spoke to my mother this week on the phone, she said: "Your father was pretty upset at the funeral home today. I guess it's hard to have someone sit next to you during your chemo, and be dead by your next treatment." I agreed, holding back that lump that started to rise in my throat.

This past weekend, my brother and his girlfriend, Tara, came to visit. Coincidentally, his girlfriend's mother lives across the street from me here in New York, so the four of us spent a lot of time together. Tara lost her father to leukemia when she was a little girl. Friday night, I sat in the living room across the street and talked with her mother, and she spoke casually about losing her husband. "He got really sick really fast," she said, "and it was good that he was able to come home for a few days before he died, spend some time with the children, and get his affairs in order." And casually continued, "You're lucky that your dad has felt well enough to do the same."

It stung. Bad. I think I've always understood that this disease will ultimately take my father. But, never have I heard it said in such a casual way. And not once since he was diagnosed have I really considered that my father could take a turn for the worse at any day. I need to bring myself to accept the reality of the situation, but it's been so much easier to hide behind the "silver lining". I seem to be doing that a lot as of late.

I guess the culmination of things people have said over the past few days just hit me at once. And I let myself cry.

Trying to heal...

Exactly two months ago, my grandfather drew in his final breaths as my family members looked on, held hands, and cried. I wasn't there.

I haven't dealt with it. Losing him. In fact, I don't think I have said aloud "My grandfather died." I realized lately that I'm very hypocritical. I talk all the time about how it's best to face your problems, deal with them, and put them behind you. But, here I am, avoiding it all. I haven't dealt with and accepted his death. And, it makes sense, psychologically. I haven't had to deal with it. I stayed away, I didn't talk to my family members, I didn't talk about it at all. When I don't talk about it or think about it, it doesn't hurt as much. But, I know that if I don't try, if I don't start on a path to acceptance, I'll never be able to be myself again.

Have you ever had to say goodbye to someone you know you'd never see again? It ranks up there with the top 3 hardest things I've ever had to do. On Labor Day weekend, I went to North Carolina to celebrate my grandfather's 80th birthday. And, before having to rush to the airport, I had to tell my grandfather goodbye knowing that he wouldn't be alive the next time I came into town. I knew all weekend that I would have to say my final words to him and I spent many hours thinking of the perfect thing to say, but when the time came, I failed. I could hardly say anything. I did manage to take his hand and choke out, "Goodbye, Pop. I love you." To which he replied, "Love ya, girlie. Let us know when you get back in the city. Be safe, gal."

There hasn't been a single day since then that I haven't regretted not being able to tell him how much I love him. I should have spent more time with him that weekend. I should have asked my family to give us some time alone so that I could tell him everything, but 5 words was all I could do. How is it possible that when it really counted, I could only come up with 5 words?! Normally, all I have is words. I'm ashamed.

So, I have decided that the thing I really need is to get out those words that are inside of me. Like I had done before, I am going to write a letter. Here is an open letter to my grandfather: the greatest man I will ever know. (Editing note: It took me 7 hours, 1 roll of toilet paper, 1 glass of wine, and 6 glasses of water to write this letter.)

Pop,

I miss you. I miss you every single day. And I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you what I was feeling when we were together last. But, I hope throughout the years, I told you enough that I love you. I hope that you always knew how much I respected you, how much I valued your opinion and how much I really needed and relied on your wisdom. I hope you know that I wasn't lying when I told you that I enjoyed spending hours at your house even if it was just sitting and watching tv with you.

And, I'm sorry - I'm sorry for all the times I didn't call, for the times I said I'd stop by and I never made it. I'm sorry for not being there with you in this past year, especially toward the end. For that, I'm eternally sorry.

I need you now. I need your advice, I need your encouragement. I feel so lost and I need you to tell me what to do.. or I at least need you to tell me that it's okay for me to not know what to do. The world, my world, feels empty without you here.

I can't hear you like I can hear others I've lost. I constantly hear my Dinnie's voice in my head every time I go outside with wet hair. "Dry your hair," she'd say. "You'll catch your death-a-cold going out with your hair soakin' wet." But, I can't hear you. Why can't I hear you?

I want to be like you. To be wise and successful and hard-working. I want to value fairness as you always had. I want to have your amazing ability to stand up for what is good and right and to expect to be treated with respect. You make me want to be the best. You cared for people; you genuinely cared. And not even people you knew, you cared and respected everyone you ever came across. You thought the same of the man who empties the trash as you did the CEO of that same company. To you, hard working people were all the same. No matter what job they had.

I'm angry. I hate that you're gone. I hate that you had to be taken away from me, from us. And I hate me for feeling sorry for myself. I'm selfish, I know, but I guess I just don't understand. Why? Why couldn't God, the fates, the pull of the universe, or whatever determines what happens just leave us alone for a while? Why you? Why now?

I know your body had failed you. I can't imagine the insurmountable amount of pain you must have been in. You were strong, unbelievably strong. And I, weak.. embarrassingly weak. Even now, I am feeling stupid and powerless because I'm having such a hard time letting you go. Everyone keeps telling me that you're not really gone, that you're always with me. But I can't feel you, I feel nothing, I'm alone.

I learned so much from you.

I thank you for being such an amazing individual. You were wonderful. You taught us all how to love, how to keep your heart open but when to know to close it. You taught us see the difference and know when to walk away and when to keep trying. You're an inspiration. And, if you're out there, in spirit or heart, maybe you can hear my thoughts or are looking down on me. If you are, please reach out to me, because I need you now. I need to feel you, I need to have you in my life. I'm trying to make my life right again and I need you to somehow be in that life again. I know I can't completely let you go.

I know this is probably mostly incoherent and incongruent and just a messy, messy set of words, but it feels nice to finally "pour my heart out" (if you'll allow the bad expression).

I love you, I miss you, we all do. I hope you knew how amazing you were.

Always,

V

1929-2009

I'm sitting out on the balcony of my new apartment. Just finished dinner, and I'm enjoying the street-symphony below. Normally, people would associate honking horns, revving engines, and sirens as something obnoxious... an annoyance of life. But, tonight, I'm feeling differently about it. Even though my head is spinning with thoughts, my heart is heavy with emotions, and my body feels like quitting, the sounds of the night are a comforting reminder that the city keeps on going. Nothing stops New York. Life keeps on going, the world keeps turning. Good or bad, it goes on.

I am having to remind myself every single day (sometimes multiple times a day) that time will heal all wounds. That the pain and sadness of my grandfather's passing will lessen; that the stresses of my job will cease; that my father's cancer will remiss; that I will eventually fall asleep at night without worrying how I will afford to eat the following week...

But, I know that as life goes on, stresses fade, and new stresses arrive. It's a never-ending cycle. Just a thing we all have to accept, I guess.

I don't think I have fully accepted the fact that my grandfather is gone. Even now, I have a problem, a question, or even something exciting to tell, I want to call him. Tonight, I actually called his cell phone, it wasn't until I heard the voicemail that I remembered. The phone dropped from my hand, and I had to eventually had to pick myself up off the floor after I collapsed into a sobbing mess.

He was my rock, my mentor, and one of my best friends. Not having him here anymore is one of the most painful feelings I have ever had. My body literally hurts when I think about how I will never see him again.

Though time will eventually lessen the pain, there will never be a time in which I will not miss him.

In this life...

I know I barely updated in August - I apologize for that. But once things start spinning out of control, it's hard enough for me to grasp what is going on in my own life. Having to organize my thoughts into a succinct blog post was near impossible. But, I'm trying now.

I am home. I came into NC for the Labor Day weekend. Though I might have come in to town anyway (because of the extended weekend), I had special reason to be here. Yesterday, my grandfather celebrated his 80th birthday. When I booked my flight in July, the mood for the weekend was of a celebratory nature. A monumental party was being planned and everyone was to attend. However, this weekend has ended up being an overwhelming mix of emotions; happiness, sadness, heart-wrenching longing, empathy, sympathy, and so much more.

My grandfather is dying.

Though I really feel that I would rather him pass on than to suffer, I am selfish. I do not want to lose him. I do not want live in a world where he does not exist. I guess for some it's better to know it is coming instead of being shocked and bewildered by a sudden death, but to know it is inevitable is just as hard as I imagine losing him will be.

Does knowing something is coming make it any easier to handle?

I've spent a lot of time in the hospital this holiday weekend. My father was diagnosed with MRSA and had to be quarantined in the infectious disease unit. Essentially, his body has no ability to fight any sort of infection because of the Leukemia. So, visiting my father in isolation, and seeing my grandfather (lucky they were just down the hall from each other, right?) has essentially been my weekend.

I feel that I am a relatively strong person (most of the time) but I am having a very difficult time dealing with this upcoming loss. Though there is obviously a grandfather/granddaughter relationship there, I also consider him to be one of my closest friends. When he goes, a piece of myself will be gone forever.

As I have looked upon my grandfather with teary eyes, I have noticed that the interactions with my grandparents (when they think no one is looking) is both heart-warming and heart-wrenching at the same time. Throughout 58 years of marriage, they are still very much in love. And even though my grandfather has hardly any fight left in him, my grandmother is fighting every step of the way. She is his caretaker, the meal-giver, the one who talks to the nurses, the one who ensures that he is feeling okay. There was a moment, right as she finished feeding him his lunch, where she took the napkin, wiped his mouth, and held his face in her hand. They looked at each other as if they were 25 years old again. No one else existed but the two of them.

It has certainly made me think - does love like that even exist anymore? And will I ever find someone to love long enough and cling to the final stages of life with? I mean, isn't that the point of all this? To find an other half - one that will be there until the very end, holding your face and gazing into your eyes; one who has a heart breaking in two but still lets you know that it's okay to let go, to stop suffering.

Though I may be a little cynical and skeptical about love and what it has in store for me. I know, in utter certainty, that I have witnessed love this weekend. And I have learned.. love is about loving someone not for who they ought to be, or could be, but as they are, until the very end.

So, though this weekend has been extremely difficult emotionally, it has also been very beneficial to my overall emotional health. I think I have been harboring all of this emotion in solitude in NYC, and I have been able to talk, cry, hug my family members, and really experience this time with them - instead of alone.

After all, alone is the last place I wanted to be.

An all-inclusive update

So, I'm sitting here, eating incredibly spicy Thai food that was given to me in a magical way only New York City could provide. I browse the menus online, pick what I want, then 20 minutes later, a man who has only been taught how to say "Delivery" and "Thank you" in English brings my yellow curried goodness up two floors and hands it to me at my door. Ah, New York, you are a genius.

I know it has been an unusually long time since I've updated here (even for me!) but I just got into that rut where so much had happened that updating this blog seemed to be such a daunting task, and I completely avoided it. Typical, VA. So typical.

Anyway, to completely turn my past month into a very short section, I left my job at Ogilvy, got a new job in ad sales, my father started his chemotherapy treatment, and my grandfather decided not to go through any more treatment.

Let's start with the first one, shall we? Dear old Ogilvy and I have parted ways. Don't get me wrong, I love and respect Ogilvy as an agency and I am certainly grateful for the experience I gained while working there, but I just couldn't take working with those two women anymore. Never in my life have I interacted with such vile beings. (and I've worked with a lot of nasty people) Though, in this situation, a miracle of sorts happened. I got fed-up enough to leave... which, you probably know that if it was bad enough for ME to quit, then it was pretty bad. On that exact same day, I got a job offer from another company. Unbelievable.

Leaving was actually easier than I thought it would be. In fact, it was actually a little offensive. After talking with HR, I respectfully called both of my bosses into a conference room and told them that I was officially notifying them of my resignation. To which they replied "Okay" It was a let down, of course, to know that I was not valued by them, but I would be lying if I said I expected more from them. Oh well.

So, the new job - I am now working for a publication called Business Trends Quarterly and my job is essentially ad sales. Though, the make-up of this publication is quite different than other magazines. Not only is it my responsibility to make sure the ad space is covered, I am also responsible for making sure proper editorial content is provided by analysts, key players in the business field, or governmental officials. I will admit that it has caused me quite a bit of stress over the past few weeks since I am having to learn everything about working in sales. But, I think that in time, I will get the hang of it and I hope to be very successful in this endeavor.

Next, we go to the family section. My dad started his chemotherapy treatments two weeks ago. I'm not sure if I actually updated anything about him since the initial diagnosis, but he was mis-staged at the beginning and was told later that the cancer was at a much more progressed state. So, he has started a very aggressive chemo treatment that will last 6 months. The treatment spans over 3 days, every 3 weeks. Though he says that he is doing fine, I don't really buy into the story. I know he's doing the "Dad" thing where he tells me that he's doing great when he's really having to deal with a lot. Sometimes I just want to shake him and make him know that it's okay for him to not be a "superhero" all the time. It's okay to be sick, it's okay to be scared, and it's okay to have weak moments in front of your children. But, I guess I can't really understand since I have no children of my own. What I do understand is this: He is embarking on a very difficult journey and I will be with him (in spirit, mostly) every step of the way.

So, I started to write something about my grandfather, but I just couldn't handle it. I'll try to get something out there soon. Sorry.

A world without Hope

It is with a heavy heart and bleakness of soul that I journal here tonight. For I have lost a dear friend - our beloved family pet, Hope. Tears journey down my face now as I think about the emptiness that will be felt in my house without her loving presence. She was the greatest companion one could ever wish for. The happiest of dogs, you couldn't help but fall in love with her smiling face.

We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults. Heaven has accorded this to us in the uncritical canine attachment.

~George Eliot

Her body failed her - and though I am grateful for the ability to end and unbelievable amount of suffering for her, it is surprising how painful it is to know that she is gone. It is hard, of course, not being able to be with my family during this time. Knowing that they are hurting is as heartbreaking to me as knowing that I too have lost.

She picked us. For some time, my mother and father had secretly been searching for a puppy to surprise my sister. Upon reading about a litter of shelties in the local paper, my father ventured out to have a look at the available pups. He would later tell us that he walked into the room where the puppies were kept, and sat down on the floor. All of the puppies scattered away, afraid of the large stranger in their midst, but one, the tiniest of the litter, walked directly over and crawled into his lap. She picked us.

Some of you may know that Hope was born with a slight birth defect. She had no elbow joint in a front leg. As a puppy, she had difficulty walking, but eventually gained enough muscle strength to have a fully functioning leg - she was able to run, to fetch, and would always go to far, too fast for her small body. But as long as you were around, she was happy.

She was always there. She knew when you were happy, when you were sad, when you needed a friend, or when you just wanted to be left alone. She was the one that was there on the front porch with me that morning I received a phone call that turned my world upside-down. She was there before the margaritas and ice cream. I will never forget the way she could weasel herself up underneath your arm so that she was snuggled with you - a place she knew you wouldn't want to move from.

She was with us for too short a time. But long enough for each of us to truly understand the happiness of owning a dog. I am so very sorry for not throwing the stick more times or complaining about her fur on my black pants. If I could have just one more day, I would let her lay all day on my nicest of clothes and I would throw the ball and never tell her that I was tired.

You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us. ~Robert Louis Stevenson

I will eternally miss you, Hope. I will miss your smiling face and your kind soul. I will miss the way you always knew, but never judged. I hope there is someone in heaven throwing the stick over and over again. And one day, I know I'll see your smiling face again. I love you, Hope. There could never be a pet as wonderful as you.

Hope Zint (akc: Laura Beth's Last Hope)

April 2004 - July 2009

Resolution check:

Since it is now July (where the hell is 2009 going??) it's time to check in with the New Year's Resolutions - let's see how I'm doing.

For reference, these resolutions were posted back in January.

Resolution number 1: Family - keep in contact and make sure they all know how much they mean to me.
I'd like to think that I've done pretty well with this resolution. I make sure to speak to my parents almost every other day (if not every day) and call or email a grandparent, aunt, uncle, or cousin once a week. Of course, with Facebook and Myspace, it has become easier to keep tabs on my cousins and to be involved in their lives. Success.

Resolution number 2: Independence - "I need to understand that independence doesn't come just from moving to a new place or getting your first job - that it's a process and a journey and it's okay to ask for help or receive help without asking for it. There's nothing wrong with getting a little help."
While I still have problems asking people for help, I think I definitely have become more independent in the past few months (or at least I've gotten a better idea of what that means). Verdict: getting there.

Resolution number 3: Friends - Foster relationships with the people that mean the most to me. Make sure I stay up to date and continue to be involved in their lives.
I could not do this without G-chat. Thank you, Google, for your wonderful invention. Not only am I able to stay in the loop on what is going on, but I would go crazy if I didn't have Anna to talk to all day long! Now, if I could just get more of my friends to start blogging..... hmm... Status: Check!

Resolution number 4: Make new friends in the city.
While I haven't found life-long friends yet, I definitely have met new people and have hung out with other people more than once. Also, I've become more comfortable with interacting with strangers - I've found that there are a lot of people in this city that are just looking for companionship like me. Still, I'm not very good at the initial interaction. Verdict: iffy.

Resolution number 5: Start dating.
Well, I've definitely started doing that! You can read more about that soon. Verdict: mmm hmm... :)

Resolution number 6: Professional - "..find a new job that allows me to experience the industry for which I spent years studying. Also, to increase my salary in order to save a bit of money (or at least to be able to buy legitimate groceries) and to get some sort of health insurance."
Well, this is my worst category. I'm still in the same job, still can't get sick, and still skimp on groceries. But, it's a work in progress, I guess. Hm... fail.

Resolution number 7: Be more selfish.
This is a hard one to gauge. While I have made a conscious effort to not do everything for everyone (yes, I'm learning how to say "no"), I still have that twinge of guilt that comes when I've been a little snotty to someone. A few months ago, Good Morning America featured a new author - she wrote a book about "Self Love" and one of her beginning steps was "Make one person mad each day." I know that sounds mean, but it actually makes sense. Knowing that you can't please everybody all the time and starting to change everyone's perception of what you're willing to do really helps. Hopefully, I can start to change the "pushover" image. Status: in progress.

Virginia: 4 , Resolutions: 3 (win!)

Well, overall, I think I've done pretty well in keeping with my resolutions. Of course, there is still a ton of work to be done, but I think it always helps to check back in and remind yourself of what you resoluted to back when you were feeling all nostalgic about years past. It probably helps that I actually made realistic resolutions this year. I guess I've just finally come to the realization that there will never be a time when my thighs do not touch.

So how are you doing with your resolutions? Do share!

The Un-iversary

It has been said that everyone ages a considerable amount in their first year out of college. I wholeheartedly believe that is true. I mentioned a few posts ago about a networking event for Elon students that will soon be joining the workforce. Upon returning to my apartment and discussing the event with my roommate, I remember telling her, "They were all so little! They looked like babies!" Thinking about it, they were only 1-3 years younger than I. But, they had a certain youthfulness about them. And those of us that have moved forward into the black hole of "real life" appeared older (not necessarily more mature, but definitely older.) Maybe it's the naivety that is gone from behind our eyes.

As the title of this post states, I have reached my universary. The one-year point of my un-marriage. There were many times throughout the year where I thought that this day (which was actually yesterday) would be my hardest day. I was plesantly suprised to find that not the case. It was almost like any other day, really. Yes, there were some reminders througout the weekend of the wedding that "wasn't to be" and the relationship that "crashed and burned" but, my mind and heart were at peace. It was almost like those things were never there - like they never existed in the first place. Am I completely whole again? Probably not. In fact, I probably will never be completely "healed". In a way, I will always have a twinge of pain - like a faint scar - that will remind me of how badly an individual can hurt another without doing any physical harm.

I spent the weekend in North Carolina with my family and friends. My grandparents were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary (I would have shared a wedding day with them had I gotten married) - - there was a grand party planned with all of thier family and friends in attendance. Irony definitely played a role in the 50th anniversary party -- the decor featured decorations and details that were carefully picked out for my own celebration. I thought it would be painful, seeing all of my "ideas" used for something else.. but it was heartwarming, really. Knowing that those things were being used for a celebration of love (real love) was the best thing I could have hoped to see. Seeing my grandparents dance together, loving each other for 50 years - has made me believe that it is possible to find love - even after a considerable amount of heartache.

It was wonderful to talk with some extended family members - those that I (sadly) don't get to see very often (Shout-out to Katy and Dave! hollaaa!) and to really spend some time with those I see more often, but I have missed so much since moving to NYC. I am so very blessed to have such wonderful people in my life.

So, I made it. I made it to the year after. And I'm surprisingly doing very well. But, like those from the networking event, I've lost some of the naivety that laid behind my eyes last year. I had to grow up.


Yes, those are some of the photos from my wedding portraits. For a long time, I felt the need to keep these hidden, but I figured it would be okay to post them because that girl in the photo does not exist anymore. Looking at them, it's like someone playing dress-up, pretending to be something, to feel something that is not there anymore. That girl is tucked away just like the dress and veil.

I am a new person - someone who is ready and excited to experience a life that is full of family, friends, and laughter - and someone who will always believe in love.

Stop this train

Stop this train -
I wanna get off and go home again.
I can't take the speed it's moving in.
I know I can't -
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

I feel like my life is spinning out of control and I can do nothing to stop it. Like being on a Sit-n-Spin, I am still, but my world is dizzy, out of focus, and out of reach. I have no constant. I know enough to know that life will never "stop" spinning, and it will never be completely easy, but I'd really like a slow-down of sorts. I'm almost afraid to answer the telephone, always fearing more bad news.

As you know, my father's cancer is far more progressed than we originally thought. Next Friday, he will go in for his bone marrow scan which will determine how much treatment he will need.

In addition to the cancer my father is battling, my grandfather received a report this week that confirmed that his cancer is back. He has 8 spots in his brain, 7 of which are minuscule, one of which is a full millimeter. (I know that doesn't seem large, but in cancer, it is.) He'll have to have radiation therapy on the entire brain (which has some pretty serious risks)

I feel so helpless, so far away from both of them. And I feel guilty for not being able to be there for them. I know that I couldn't REALLY do much to help, but I could be there! I could talk with them... or something! But, I can't do any of that from here. I am removed. I am far away.

I want to know everything about my grandfather. I think he is an unbelievably amazing individual and every time I am with him, I find out something new about his life and his past. I feel childish for not paying more attention to his stories throughout the years - If this is it for him, I know my life will never be the same. If he were to not be here anymore, I don't think that is something I could handle. The world, MY world, is better because of him.

My head is clouded with all of these thoughts, and I know that I should think positively, and not be upset, because that's what they would want me to do. But, I can't help it. I want to hold onto them with all of my strength.. but will that be enough? Will they truly know how much I care for them? How much I think about them?

There is a part of my brain that feels like my life is starting to come together, to make sense. Then there's another part, a deep, darkened part that reminds me that it's falling apart. I am two beings in one body. And, with this constant battle of self, I can not hold it all together. I am useless.

I'm on this train, I can't slow down.
And the brakes are gone and I'm running out of reasons to even try to stop it now.
And it seems to me no matter where I turn,
I fall off these tracks and I get burned;
But someday I'm going to finally make it home.

But these wheels keep on taking me the long way..
And I just don't know when they'll finally stop.
But I know if they keep taking me the long way, the wrong way;
I'm falling off, ain't never getting up.

And, someday, I hope you finally lead me home.

Updates from the week ---

This week is a pivotal point in my life - I can officially say that everything that happened "wedding-wise" was "last year", not "last summer" or "this past June"... I can finally begin to put all of this behind me. Of course, I still have about 2 weeks until my "universary", but knowing that I have made it to this point is a wonderful feeling. I've spent a lot of time this week thinking about my life and where I'm headed (verses where I would have been had I actually gotten married - ew) and I'm starting to feel more confident about my life. I guess I really had to go through these things to realize what I'm capable of doing.

Of course, my life is not perfect (not by any means!) and there are many things that I need to do and change before I can really feel like I'm living the life I'm supposed to be living. But, I'm on my way - I'm getting there.

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I went to The Belmont last weekend with my roommate's family and some friends. What an amazing event! I've done so many things living in this city that I would have never been able to experience anywhere else - so unbelievable. I did bet on some horses, but I didn't win any money.. : ( It's alright, though, it was worth the money spent for the excitement.

We had an amazing view - a spot right at the fence - to watch the races... awesome.

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On Tuesday, Elon sponsored an event at the Volstead (midtown east) to kick-off their Elon In New York City event. It is a program where current Elon students get internships in the city and are provided with housing and some food (I think). It's essentially a way for students to get those coveted internships and to make it easier for them to live in the city. (Man, it would have been nice if they had that when I was there). Anyway, the event was for students to really see what "networking" is like.

Normally at these events, I am the network-ee. I'm the one harassing people trying to figure out who they work for, who they know, who knows them, and essentially, if they would recommend me for a job. But, this time, I was on the other side. Suddenly, these people wanted to talk to me! They wanted to know what my internships were, what I had on my resume, and how I got my job. It was so ironic, these students, who are just like I was - excited, optimistic, vivid - couldn't wait to get out in the "Real World". I hate to say that I was a little bit of a thunderstorm on their parade, but I wanted to be honest with them. After all, I think I would have had a better view of what life would be like if people had been completely honest with me during my job hunt. It's not easy. It's hard. It's hard moving to a new city, it's hard finding a job right out of college... and at this point, you almost HAVE to know someone that has an "in" in order to get a job. Applying for jobs online is essentially useless. And, from talking to them, I realized how much I need to be taking my own advice. I should be networking like crazy, talking to everyone I possibly can - and making sure I'm putting myself out there for people to see - employers aren't going to find me!

So, I'm going to put up an updated portfolio website. I think I'm actually going to pay for the domain space and make it as professional as possible. And, if it gets me a job, it'll be worth every penny. I'll keep you posted though.

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In keeping with tradition, June 10th sucked this year as well. It seems that 6/10 is my family's day to receive bad news. Last year, it was the news that my fiance had cancelled our wedding and this year, we learned that my father's cancer is more progressed than they thought. He'll have to begin treatment sooner than we expected (like, within a few weeks/months maybe). It sucks, really, that we got such a good report from the doctors about him being in Stage 0 and the possibility of never needing treatment because his cancer was "dormant". Now, test results have come in from RTP showing that the cancer has mutated some of the blood cells. ::sigh:: This isn't going to be easy.

After having a bone marrow scan, doctors will determine how much/how long/how strong of chemotherapy he would need to get the cancer into a remission. I'll let you know when we know more...

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Well, it's almost quittin' time and there hasn't been much to do today.. so I'm pretty certain I'm going to be kicked out in about 10 minutes. At least it's Friday! More later, dear readers.

Home

So, I'm home. Back in North Carolina. I'm sure I'll have much to share about this weekend, but I just wanted to blog quickly about a tender moment I experienced tonight and it has to do with something I have missed so much about home.

While watching a movie with my mom, sister, and the dogs on my mom's bed, both dogs had fallen asleep against my legs - I guess they were both happy I was home, since they haven't left me alone since I arrived this evening. Funny, isn't it? I've always imagined that animals don't realize when you're not there - but I think that my dogs actually missed me!

It makes me feel warm inside : )

A diagnosis.

My father has leukemia.

It's a statement that doesn't get less strange each time I say it. My father has leukemia. It's called Chronic Lymphocitic Leukemia (CLL) It's a blood cancer, where the healthy blood stem cells develop abnormal lymphocytes and don't become white blood cells. In turn, people with CLL don't fight infection as a normally healthy person would. This, actually, explains why my father has been continually sick (unable to fight off even the smallest infection) for an entire year. With this type of cancer, the lymphocytes increase in the blood and bone marrow, which leaves less room for healthy white and red blood cells.

While it's a strange concept to me, this type of Leukemia is the most common type for adults. And, the chances of developing this type of cancer increases with being white, male, and over 50.

In the "Leukemia and Lymphoma" world, this type of cancer is known as the "watch and wait" cancer because treatment is postponed until the chromosomal mutations occur. So, depending on how long my father has had this cancer (without knowing) will determine when treatment will begin. (I'll know on Thursday how advanced his case is)

It's such an odd thought - knowing that the blood that is running through my father's veins is contaminated. The very thing that is keeping him alive is also killing him. Irony. heh.

In truth, I feel numb about the whole thing. When telling people of this diagnosis, the words sound like lies coming out of my mouth -- in a way that I haven't convinced myself that it's real. Not that cancer is something that is extremely rare in my family, but just that it's my father - MY FATHER! My father, who is caring and kind, witty, and a bit of a smart-ass. The man who can find humor in any situation. The one who can fix anything. My father has leukemia.

Of course, it's difficult for me being away from my family during this time - but what is more difficult is trying to talk to them about it. It's like my family has gone in to "Crisis Communications mode channeled by Mr. Rogers". I understand that they want to paint a pretty picture of the situation to help us all feel better - and I understand that until we know what the treatment will be (and when it will begin) there's not much reason to be completely engulfed in emotion, but feel SOMETHING, please?! I can handle crisis. I can be upset and still be okay - but it seems that my family is trying to protect me from feeling anything with this diagnosis.

Call me crazy (and some have) but I think that it's okay to be upset, it's okay to be scared - in fact, it's probably healthy to feel that way. But why can't my mother and father admit that they're scared? I'd rather know that they're worried than to get the "Oh we're fine! Don't be upset, we're all just fine!" when I know it's not completely true.

The thought of one day losing my father was something I wanted to bury in the back of my mind for many many years - now, the realization that my father will eventually be taken by cancer is in the forefront. I understand that he's got time - depending on the diagnosis and treatment, he could live 30 or 40 more years! (This, is what I'm hoping for) But it's still crippling to imagine a life without him in it. I don't want to.

For now, I will continue to pray for his heath (both physically and emotionally) and do whatever I can to help him in this journey - it's going to be a long one.