Sometimes you go through the lurking edges of your computerized world and find treasures... sometimes these treasures make you catch your breath.
I have been digging in my computer since my original one crapped out - the motherboard died, requiring me to migrate over to a new (to me) computer.
And I found this, circa 2003. And I burst into tears.
Brian was attempting to take photos of us for a sarcastic Christmas card we wanted to design to send to friends who "got" our weird sense of humor. Hence, being in front of "Circus Liquor" a creepy liquor store in North Hollywood. You can see him clicking the remote. It was dark where the tripod was set up and he accidentally pressed the wrong button... so we had a short video clip and he did not plan on it. We did get our photos and designed our Christmas card and sent it out that year. And we inadvertently got a video clip.
A clip that we never intended to have.
We were photo people. We did not do a lot of video at all. Now, I regret that. I wish I had filmed every small pathetic detail of our days. But I did not.
I did not know this was lurking in the computer - when I had downloaded the camera it came with all the photos and sat there quietly, waiting to be noticed. This is a treasure for me. Even if I got absolutely nothing for Christmas, this short little treasure makes me wealthy beyond measure.
Merry Christmas from Circus Liquor...
Love,
Kim
Showing posts with label HUSBAND DIED. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HUSBAND DIED. Show all posts
EMDR - what the heck is it and will it help?
If you are having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) you may fall into one or more of three categories:
- intrusive memories
- avoidance and numbing
- increased anxiety or emotional arousal (hyperarousal)
You may have someone suggest EMDR treatment to you. EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing and is a treatment for
PTSD.
In EMDR, a patient brings to mind emotionally unpleasant images
and beliefs about themselves related to their traumatic event. With
these thoughts and images in mind, patients are asked to experience bi-lateral stimulation as guided by the therapist.
 |
| I traveled to New England to receive EMDR but you can find a local clinician. |
In your first
session, the clinician will likely explain how EMDR might be used to address
the specific concerns you have identified - and help you to identify the "target(s)" for EMDR reprocessing - the
particular feeling(s), memory(ies), belief(s), or situation(s) that has been
problematic for you. There are different types of bilateral stimulation. Your clinician may use ear phones, tappers held in your hands, lights that can be followed by your eyes or various types of music with embedded bilateral sounds.
Using bilateral stimulation, you explore positive resources in your mind. EMDR is very effective at enhancing positive images, thoughts, and memories. Later, when working with upsetting targets, you can return to these positive resources as a place of safety, support, and calm.
As you think about the target - bilateral stimulation helps your mind "reprocess" the target by allowing your mind to move towards new thoughts and feelings. "Desensitization" occurs when there is a decrease in the anxiety or negative emotions associated with the target. When you no longer find the target disturbing, you have arrived at "adaptive resolution".
How many sessions will be needed?
Repeated studies show that EMDR can be extremely effective in as few as three sessions - compared to years in more traditional forms of therapy (see
the Journal of Anxiety Disorders, vol.13,1999). Often one might anticipate 6 sessions and an assessment on whether to continue or to conclude EMDR. The time frame of the work will largely be determined by
your needs and goals.
I used EMDR and it has been highly effective for me. I had a talented clinician and attended 8 sessions. I highly recommend EMDR.
Love,
Kim
Sparks Fly Upward - Artwork To Represent The Loss of a Husband
 |
My husband died in June of 2008. |
I am entering this piece in the Oncology On CanvasSM: Expressions of a Cancer Journey Art Competition and Exhibition in the Family Member, Friend or Caregiver division. If selected, they will donate monies to my charity of choice. I am selecting the Cancer Support Community. Wish me luck!
Just for those of you that do not know me well, I am a widow. My husband died June, 2008 from pancreatic cancer at a young age.
I have to write about this as well. Words come much harder for me. As I finish writing I will update this entry.
Love,
Kim
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother - Caretaking My Husband In Hospice
Last Sunday I hauled my tired and weary self to a local church wondering what might be there for me.
As a backdrop to this - I am sad to report that it has been a long time since I have been moved to weep at a Sunday service anywhere. Given that I have spent the last 3+ years traveling around the United States and actively grieving the loss of my soul mate, it seems like I would have cried often during church - generally, tears have not been in short supply. However, very few services have brought me to tears. I suspect this is an indication of how far away my life path has taken me from what a majority of what a church service is about. I have been in the slow grist of death and so much of church seems to be about being in the motion and details of undisturbed living.
But this Sunday, I wept.
Mid-way through the service, after an at-length apology about the lack of inclusive language, the choir sang a choral version of the song "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother."
This song has been around for many decades. I have heard it enough that I thought I knew most of the lyrics. But, now I am listening with new ears. The ears of a person that assisted someone in crossing over under hospice care.
When you agree to be a caregiver with hospice, you will find yourself doing many custodial tasks - lifting a person physically who can no longer stand on their own two feet. Feeding someone who can no longer hold a spoon. We trim, toilet and wash, comb and brush. We administer meds. And more importantly, we lend a watchful eye to insure the provision of a safe and loving environment for the dying to spend their final days in.
Upon hearing these lyrics, the clouds parted and I was hearing something about love, as if for the first time. There was a clarity of kindness, an honest recognition of the need of community and commitment in our places of being stripped down... the bonds that hold us together in our most fundamental weakness and strengths.
I recognized so much wisdom in the words - so I was determined to know who wrote this song.
There are a lot of details that I might say about the song's origins, but I would like to only focus on one factor - that one of the two co-authors of this song was dying of cancer of the lymph nodes.
Yet, the song is written from the perspective of the one that is able-bodied to assist. Perhaps the lyrics were written by the co-author who was healthy. I am uncertain. Yet, it seems to me that the song being birthed around the dying makes perfect sense. Perhaps this is why the song is so stripped down to the elemental of what rests between human beings. What I imagine - is when confronted by a person who is actively dying or when we are actively dying - that we finally understand what all humans need.
I am a widow. My husband died in June 2008. I miss him so. But, I would do it all over again.
The Lyrics:
The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
"He ain't heavy, he's my brother" is a statement of disputed origins, many tales around it's source are interesting. The statement is what is called a paraprosdokian - a phrasing where the second half of the phrase causes the listener to revisit and gain a different understanding of the first part of the phrase.
To illustrate, this is where the assumptive reasoning would take us upon hearing:
"He ain't heavy..."
"... he only weighs 180 pounds."
"... he lost a lost of weight."
"... he is only 5 years old."
Instead, we hear an unexpected reason for the ease of carrying the person...
"... he is my brother."
This is often a device of humor, seldom is it used for an emotionally moving sentence. In this phrase, it alerts us to the bond between human beings as the metric for when something is a burden or a sacred responsibility.
Brian was my life partner, and in that way I would call him a mate as well as a lover and a brother. In 2008, I joined thousands of people who choose the supporting structure of hospice care as a way to carry our brothers and sisters down a long road with many a winding turn , that leads to who knows where , who knows when. I have often said that helping Brian cross over with the least amount of pain and the most amount of love was the most sacred thing I have ever done in my life.
When I meet others that have been caregivers with hospice, there is a connection that occurs - because we know what it means to work to deliver a person to the other side with loving-kindness and peace. We share the art of dying with the nurses and doctors. We do not shrink away from caring for our beloved unto death.
Love,
Kim
As a backdrop to this - I am sad to report that it has been a long time since I have been moved to weep at a Sunday service anywhere. Given that I have spent the last 3+ years traveling around the United States and actively grieving the loss of my soul mate, it seems like I would have cried often during church - generally, tears have not been in short supply. However, very few services have brought me to tears. I suspect this is an indication of how far away my life path has taken me from what a majority of what a church service is about. I have been in the slow grist of death and so much of church seems to be about being in the motion and details of undisturbed living.
But this Sunday, I wept.
Mid-way through the service, after an at-length apology about the lack of inclusive language, the choir sang a choral version of the song "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother."
This song has been around for many decades. I have heard it enough that I thought I knew most of the lyrics. But, now I am listening with new ears. The ears of a person that assisted someone in crossing over under hospice care.
When you agree to be a caregiver with hospice, you will find yourself doing many custodial tasks - lifting a person physically who can no longer stand on their own two feet. Feeding someone who can no longer hold a spoon. We trim, toilet and wash, comb and brush. We administer meds. And more importantly, we lend a watchful eye to insure the provision of a safe and loving environment for the dying to spend their final days in.
Upon hearing these lyrics, the clouds parted and I was hearing something about love, as if for the first time. There was a clarity of kindness, an honest recognition of the need of community and commitment in our places of being stripped down... the bonds that hold us together in our most fundamental weakness and strengths.
I recognized so much wisdom in the words - so I was determined to know who wrote this song.
There are a lot of details that I might say about the song's origins, but I would like to only focus on one factor - that one of the two co-authors of this song was dying of cancer of the lymph nodes.
Yet, the song is written from the perspective of the one that is able-bodied to assist. Perhaps the lyrics were written by the co-author who was healthy. I am uncertain. Yet, it seems to me that the song being birthed around the dying makes perfect sense. Perhaps this is why the song is so stripped down to the elemental of what rests between human beings. What I imagine - is when confronted by a person who is actively dying or when we are actively dying - that we finally understand what all humans need.
 |
| My husband died in June of 2008 of pancreatic cancer. |
The Lyrics:
The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
"He ain't heavy, he's my brother" is a statement of disputed origins, many tales around it's source are interesting. The statement is what is called a paraprosdokian - a phrasing where the second half of the phrase causes the listener to revisit and gain a different understanding of the first part of the phrase.
To illustrate, this is where the assumptive reasoning would take us upon hearing:
"He ain't heavy..."
"... he only weighs 180 pounds."
"... he lost a lost of weight."
"... he is only 5 years old."
Instead, we hear an unexpected reason for the ease of carrying the person...
"... he is my brother."
This is often a device of humor, seldom is it used for an emotionally moving sentence. In this phrase, it alerts us to the bond between human beings as the metric for when something is a burden or a sacred responsibility.
Brian was my life partner, and in that way I would call him a mate as well as a lover and a brother. In 2008, I joined thousands of people who choose the supporting structure of hospice care as a way to carry our brothers and sisters down a long road with many a winding turn , that leads to who knows where , who knows when. I have often said that helping Brian cross over with the least amount of pain and the most amount of love was the most sacred thing I have ever done in my life.
When I meet others that have been caregivers with hospice, there is a connection that occurs - because we know what it means to work to deliver a person to the other side with loving-kindness and peace. We share the art of dying with the nurses and doctors. We do not shrink away from caring for our beloved unto death.
And when people voice how frightening, how hard and awful that might be, I can honestly say that it is awful and hard - but I would do it again for Brian or anyone else that I cared for. Because helping someone die surrounded by safety and peace - as much as is possible - is what we do when we love each other.
 |
| Brian actively dying from pancreatic cancer |
Love,
Kim
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)