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Nov. 25th, 2006 01:29 pmIn many ways, celebrating Thanksgiving was extremely difficult for me this year.
First, let me tell you a few good things, so this isn't a total downer post:
Kate and Larry were in California with his family, but Benjamin, Katya and I decided we'd have a "do" for our families. Benjamin's mother came in from North Carolina (I seem to know a whole lot of people with ties to North Carolina, what's up with that?), and my parents and siblings came, as did Katya's. We made a metric ton of food, including the amazing port-basted turkey that was Katya's masterpiece. People also brought tons of food. All the families seemed to enjoy each other's company, as well as our home. Katya's father figured out how to work the gas fireplace, and we sat around the fire chatting; topics of conversation ranged from politics to dogs to cars to music. No football was watched. Benjamin's mother brought a sweet and funny blessing to say before we ate, passing it around and having each person read a portion. In the evening after everybody had left, when it was the three of us plus two mothers (mine and Benjamin's were staying over), I pulled up "Alice's Restaurant" on iTunes, and the five of us sat around and listened, laughing at parts, and singing along at others.
I need to hang onto that description and remember that I really do have things to be thankful for, and that I am capable of loving the moment I'm in and truly enjoying life, if only for a little while.
It was one year ago today that I was sitting in the internet cafe in my hostel in Jerusalem when I got the email that four members of CPT in Baghdad had been kidnapped. That moment spun out of control and into an insanity that has changed my life irrevocably. Changed me irrevocably. Four months of the hostage crisis bled into my waking up in excruciating pain, which is something that lingers still, with no way of knowing if or when that will go away.
The consequences of this pain is that I feel that everything that makes me me, everything that is most important to me, is suddenly something I can't do anymore. Really, like physically just can't do. There is no way I am capable of going back overseas- even if I could survive the plane ride, which at this time there is no way I can, I can't do the work required of me in Tuwani. I can't play my viola for more than ten minutes at a time. Well, not seriously play, anyway. I can play hymns or Christmas carols or other simple things for thirty or forty minutes, with breaks, but launch into Bach or Bruch or Hindemith, and its all over. I'm terrified these things will begin to slowly delete from my DNA, that I will lose them forever. And I have no idea what will replace them if they do. I don't have a path figured out. All I know is that I need to find one, but I don't know how. My world has shrunk to a circumference of about two inches, nothing I try seems to widen it again, and I am often unaware of anything outside that circumference.
I also feel as if my personality is slowly changing. Instead of being open and loving, and spending time with friends, and trying desperately to forgive, trying to keep my fuse long, I find myself becoming increasingly solitudinous, angry, judgemental. You can't catch me giving a flying fuck. And I hate it. I hate it. I just don't know what to do about it, I don't know how to stop it. I suppose in a way its good for me. It is good if I can have the courage to set boundaries for myself, which has long been a problem for me. I just wish I could do it in a healthy way, instead of saying to myself "oh, fuck all, its not worth it, go away".
As I was finishing up at my chronic pain program, I was beginning to feel the excitement of exploring new paths, finding new interestes or new ways to practice existing ones. But now that I'm home and without the structure and support of my group and my therapists, I am nothing but profoundly depressed over all of this. It very literally feels as if there is nothing to get up in the morning for. But I do, because there is also nothing to stay in bed for. Luckily, I suppose, I do get bored just lying there. I just need to find the energy to struggle through to the end of the year, and then celebrate the coming of a new year in which I can restructure myself and my life into something workable.
But really, I do have something to be thankful for (in no particular order):
-I am thankful that I live in this amazing community with amazing people who are also amazing friends. What they've put up with and what they've done to support me is invaluable.
- I am thankful for my sister, who spent seven months shuttling me to appointments, sitting with me in hospital rooms and ERs, and agonizing over doctors and bureaucracy with, and sometimes for, me. She kept my mother's hysterics at bay, and was in charge of keeping friends and loved ones updated whenever necessary.
- I am thankful for Erik, who also spent a great deal of time in hospital rooms and ERs. Including the Sunday morning I called him at something like 5:30 to take me to the ER. He continues to support me, visiting me and loving me and taking me places to help get me out of the house and cheer me up.
- I am thankful for Libby, who this whole time has been desperate to make me happy and help however she can. If by simply loving someone you could cure what ails them, I'd have been up and around months and months ago, thanks to her. She also is responsible for trying to cheer me up and get me out of the house. Our "field trips" have been some of the highlights of the last several months for me. When we hang out, I am almost myself. Of course, it is easy to be yourself around someone you've known for sixteen years; it almost as if part of yourself is embedded in them, and even if you can't find it in your own mind, you know you can just look across the table or next to you in the car, and have a little bit of it for awhile.
- I am thankful for the friends I made during my month at the chronic pain clinic. I've been woefully out of touch with them in the last two weeks, and I need to remedy that. We five are all quite different, from various backgrounds and beliefs, but I know we'll always have the irreplaceable bond of going through this together, and understanding what's behind it, and what may or may not be in front of us.
- I am thankful for the community I have here on LiveJournal. That may sound strange, but it is true. The outpouring of support I received all throughout the hostage crisis and at the time of Tom's death never fails to boggle my mind; people I've never even met- dozens and dozens of people- were with me through the whole thing, watching and waiting and grieving with me and for me. And as I began this very, very odd journey that led me to the phrase "chronic pain", you didn't falter. It is amazing how much difference it can make to receive just a few words of comfort and sympathy. When I made my first post in almost a month last week, I was shocked to see so many of you express such joy that I was within the community again. It made me promise myself not to leave it again any time soon.
- I am thankful for all the friends who still love me even though I haven't seen or called them in ages. In some cases, several months. I know that many of you are aware that my lack of communication stems from dealing with the pain, and from depression and fear, rather than a desire to not be friends anymore. When I do see some of those friends, I am grateful for the hugs and love they give me, without questioning why it is I've fallen out of touch. I am hopeful that if I can ever get my life back, get out of my tiny world, get back to anything I used to have, that I will still have friends left.
- I am thankful for the members of the Church of Jesus Christ, Reconciler, who have prayed for me weekly for months now, even though I've never met most of them. I don't know where my relationship with God lies right now, but just the act of being thoughtful enough to do such a thing means a great deal to me.
So this is without a doubt the most self-centered "thankful" list I've ever made. But that's okay; it has to be okay, because that's how it is. I am optomistic that by this time next year things will be drastically different, and then I can make lists of being thankful for things like advances in world peace, or the like. But this is the template. I've got no choice but to paint it right now.
I'm going to stop here, because this is long enough, and if I write much more of this you'll all be jumping off tall buildings. Certainly, comments and feedback are welcome. Criticism is not. Thank you.
First, let me tell you a few good things, so this isn't a total downer post:
Kate and Larry were in California with his family, but Benjamin, Katya and I decided we'd have a "do" for our families. Benjamin's mother came in from North Carolina (I seem to know a whole lot of people with ties to North Carolina, what's up with that?), and my parents and siblings came, as did Katya's. We made a metric ton of food, including the amazing port-basted turkey that was Katya's masterpiece. People also brought tons of food. All the families seemed to enjoy each other's company, as well as our home. Katya's father figured out how to work the gas fireplace, and we sat around the fire chatting; topics of conversation ranged from politics to dogs to cars to music. No football was watched. Benjamin's mother brought a sweet and funny blessing to say before we ate, passing it around and having each person read a portion. In the evening after everybody had left, when it was the three of us plus two mothers (mine and Benjamin's were staying over), I pulled up "Alice's Restaurant" on iTunes, and the five of us sat around and listened, laughing at parts, and singing along at others.
I need to hang onto that description and remember that I really do have things to be thankful for, and that I am capable of loving the moment I'm in and truly enjoying life, if only for a little while.
It was one year ago today that I was sitting in the internet cafe in my hostel in Jerusalem when I got the email that four members of CPT in Baghdad had been kidnapped. That moment spun out of control and into an insanity that has changed my life irrevocably. Changed me irrevocably. Four months of the hostage crisis bled into my waking up in excruciating pain, which is something that lingers still, with no way of knowing if or when that will go away.
The consequences of this pain is that I feel that everything that makes me me, everything that is most important to me, is suddenly something I can't do anymore. Really, like physically just can't do. There is no way I am capable of going back overseas- even if I could survive the plane ride, which at this time there is no way I can, I can't do the work required of me in Tuwani. I can't play my viola for more than ten minutes at a time. Well, not seriously play, anyway. I can play hymns or Christmas carols or other simple things for thirty or forty minutes, with breaks, but launch into Bach or Bruch or Hindemith, and its all over. I'm terrified these things will begin to slowly delete from my DNA, that I will lose them forever. And I have no idea what will replace them if they do. I don't have a path figured out. All I know is that I need to find one, but I don't know how. My world has shrunk to a circumference of about two inches, nothing I try seems to widen it again, and I am often unaware of anything outside that circumference.
I also feel as if my personality is slowly changing. Instead of being open and loving, and spending time with friends, and trying desperately to forgive, trying to keep my fuse long, I find myself becoming increasingly solitudinous, angry, judgemental. You can't catch me giving a flying fuck. And I hate it. I hate it. I just don't know what to do about it, I don't know how to stop it. I suppose in a way its good for me. It is good if I can have the courage to set boundaries for myself, which has long been a problem for me. I just wish I could do it in a healthy way, instead of saying to myself "oh, fuck all, its not worth it, go away".
As I was finishing up at my chronic pain program, I was beginning to feel the excitement of exploring new paths, finding new interestes or new ways to practice existing ones. But now that I'm home and without the structure and support of my group and my therapists, I am nothing but profoundly depressed over all of this. It very literally feels as if there is nothing to get up in the morning for. But I do, because there is also nothing to stay in bed for. Luckily, I suppose, I do get bored just lying there. I just need to find the energy to struggle through to the end of the year, and then celebrate the coming of a new year in which I can restructure myself and my life into something workable.
But really, I do have something to be thankful for (in no particular order):
-I am thankful that I live in this amazing community with amazing people who are also amazing friends. What they've put up with and what they've done to support me is invaluable.
- I am thankful for my sister, who spent seven months shuttling me to appointments, sitting with me in hospital rooms and ERs, and agonizing over doctors and bureaucracy with, and sometimes for, me. She kept my mother's hysterics at bay, and was in charge of keeping friends and loved ones updated whenever necessary.
- I am thankful for Erik, who also spent a great deal of time in hospital rooms and ERs. Including the Sunday morning I called him at something like 5:30 to take me to the ER. He continues to support me, visiting me and loving me and taking me places to help get me out of the house and cheer me up.
- I am thankful for Libby, who this whole time has been desperate to make me happy and help however she can. If by simply loving someone you could cure what ails them, I'd have been up and around months and months ago, thanks to her. She also is responsible for trying to cheer me up and get me out of the house. Our "field trips" have been some of the highlights of the last several months for me. When we hang out, I am almost myself. Of course, it is easy to be yourself around someone you've known for sixteen years; it almost as if part of yourself is embedded in them, and even if you can't find it in your own mind, you know you can just look across the table or next to you in the car, and have a little bit of it for awhile.
- I am thankful for the friends I made during my month at the chronic pain clinic. I've been woefully out of touch with them in the last two weeks, and I need to remedy that. We five are all quite different, from various backgrounds and beliefs, but I know we'll always have the irreplaceable bond of going through this together, and understanding what's behind it, and what may or may not be in front of us.
- I am thankful for the community I have here on LiveJournal. That may sound strange, but it is true. The outpouring of support I received all throughout the hostage crisis and at the time of Tom's death never fails to boggle my mind; people I've never even met- dozens and dozens of people- were with me through the whole thing, watching and waiting and grieving with me and for me. And as I began this very, very odd journey that led me to the phrase "chronic pain", you didn't falter. It is amazing how much difference it can make to receive just a few words of comfort and sympathy. When I made my first post in almost a month last week, I was shocked to see so many of you express such joy that I was within the community again. It made me promise myself not to leave it again any time soon.
- I am thankful for all the friends who still love me even though I haven't seen or called them in ages. In some cases, several months. I know that many of you are aware that my lack of communication stems from dealing with the pain, and from depression and fear, rather than a desire to not be friends anymore. When I do see some of those friends, I am grateful for the hugs and love they give me, without questioning why it is I've fallen out of touch. I am hopeful that if I can ever get my life back, get out of my tiny world, get back to anything I used to have, that I will still have friends left.
- I am thankful for the members of the Church of Jesus Christ, Reconciler, who have prayed for me weekly for months now, even though I've never met most of them. I don't know where my relationship with God lies right now, but just the act of being thoughtful enough to do such a thing means a great deal to me.
So this is without a doubt the most self-centered "thankful" list I've ever made. But that's okay; it has to be okay, because that's how it is. I am optomistic that by this time next year things will be drastically different, and then I can make lists of being thankful for things like advances in world peace, or the like. But this is the template. I've got no choice but to paint it right now.
I'm going to stop here, because this is long enough, and if I write much more of this you'll all be jumping off tall buildings. Certainly, comments and feedback are welcome. Criticism is not. Thank you.
