My new life started beautifully at the end of July, with marital happiness and peace, and I decided that the events of my life had a purpose—even if I had to say what that purpose was. As August marched on, however, I learned that a new life dedicated to the highest good of the universe was not necessarily without strife. Grief still reared its head occasionally, and my husband and I butted heads, but we were still strongly committed to working together, learning lessons that would be vital to us over the next few years.

You can watch the YouTube video of this chapter using the following link, or read the text below.

 

21. August 2010

 

Although there certainly are aspects of life that remain outside of our immediate control or understanding, much of what we attract and experience is the result of our own state of consciousness, which is very much within our control. This especially becomes true in the context of relationships, in which the splintered, un-owned aspects of ourselves we would rather avoid surface in the mirror of others. —Blair Borders, Double Vision

 Sunday 1 August 2010

Was trying to figure out just what it was that was reborn, why I was new, what in my life is new, that [caused me to] pledge [that] this is the beginning of my life. I think it’s acceptance. Simple acceptance. Early in all of this change in our lives, in October and November of 2009, I told God that somehow, if I was meant to be always blind, I’d accept it—I wouldn’t like it, but I’d accept it. Of course, at the time, with the hope fresh in my heart, straight out of the surgery and with recovery happening every day, I didn’t even want to consider the idea of not getting all my vision back.

And I’ve clung to the hope of healing that I’ve had, the promise I’ve been given of my vision returning. But I’ve clung to it to the point of holding myself back emotionally. I don’t even understand how I was doing it. But as I think about that concept and write it, I just know it’s true, it’s right. I held myself back. So now I’ve accepted things as they are. I may not like them. I may hope for far better things. I may wish things had never happened the way they did, but I accept them. I accept that they happened. I accept the changes they had on my life. I accept that I have lost most of my peripheral vision. I accept that I must depend on others for help, and I accept that I can use these things to improve certain aspects of my life that were lacking before everything happened.

No longer able to keep myself busy with the busyness of meaningless comings and goings, I can devote time to reconnecting to friends and family. I reestablish old relationships, improve others, work on building what I selfishly let fall by the wayside before.

I accept that I am visually impaired. And I cry because I am visually impaired, because I have lost a freedom. But I know what has happened to me has happened for a purpose. No matter what, it happened for a purpose—if only because I SAY it has a purpose, and I MAKE it have a purpose. Yes, sometimes, things just happen. … Sometimes, things just happen, for no good reason. This may have happened to me for no good reason, for a bunch of stupid, small reasons, but I will make sure it has a purpose. Or a hundred small purposes.

[Three days ago], I declared the first day of my new life. An old version of me has died, fallen away, burned—whatever metaphor you like—and a new me has begun. Thursday was the end of a rite of passage for me, though I have no idea why or how, but it was like a dedication, a baptism, a wedding, when you are still the same but the reference point for everything in your life has changed—everything in your life will change.

So I’m in the infancy … of my new life. I have no idea what it will bring. So far, aside from a couple of aggravations from my dark period, it’s been good. My husband and I have been closer these past few days than we have been for months, maybe years. If nothing else changes, that alone is probably worth it. Sure, it’s only been a few days, but that’s a wonderful way to start a new life—full of love and laughter and togetherness and touching and understanding and acceptance, the warmth and glow of real love…

***

I’m starting, in this new life, to remember what I mean to other people, instead of just remembering what they mean to me. So much of this new life so far seems to be falling back to my old life, the pre-miscarriage, pre-blindness life. And yet so much is new, so much different [as if two distinct lives are joining, becoming one].

 

Monday 2 August 2010

[My] thoughts [have turned to] reincarnation and how the paths—the times between lives and the key points in life—“work.” I was thinking through them aloud and started crying [a couple of times]. … I was confused, wondered why I was crying, as [the tears] hit me rather unexpectedly. Then I realized [these were] the unstoppable, gentle tears that hit when I find Truth: the signal from my guides or the universe that I’ve found Universal Truth. …

I can’t remember what they were specifically, these bits of Truth. I’m only left with knowing this life is the life I chose, for better or worse, before I was born into it. This life is a crucible. Recognizing [that fact] should help me get the most from it, so much as I can, given the constraints of my life.

As I look at the picture on the front of this journal [Wizard Island, in Crater Lake National Park], I’m amazed yet again by how beautiful Crater Lake is … and … I’m reminded of the feeling of peace and awe and beauty that struck me when I first saw the lake. I remember being thankful to [one of my fathers-in-law] for taking us there. [It] is a highly spiritual place, closed off to most of the world for all but [a few] months a year because of the snow. It cleanses itself, purifies.

 

 

But this amazing lake came about only after enormous destruction. Half the mountain exploded. Thousands of years ago, the effects of this volcano were felt probably worldwide. Animals and humans nearby were killed or had to leave, at the very least. But now, it’s so peaceful, so beautiful, so amazingly serene. It’s still active, growing Wizard Island, staying hot below the surface, but all that violence, chaos, destruction led to this.

Why does it so often take such horrible experiences to create such holy things?

 

Thursday 5 August 2010

Sitting on the porch, experiencing the cool yet warm, humid summer morning air. …

It’s insanely loud here this time of morning [at] this time of year. Of course there’s all the highway traffic … but even louder—incredibly—are the crickets and the birds. I can’t hear myself think. … I came out for peace and quiet but instead found a fortissimo symphony going full tilt.

I have the urge to scream at the top of my lungs. I’ve felt it a few times in the past few weeks, maybe months, but not sure why. Today, [I felt it when] I stepped outside. … Why? The urge to be heard? To proclaim my existence like the birds and crickets? Anger? It’s a wordless urge. But if I gave it voice, would it stay wordless?

 

Sunday 8 August 2010

Working on a [project today] … I can’t help but think of the miscarriage, the baby we wanted so much, that we said good morning to every day, that I talked to all the time, asking it to stay in my womb, to grow strong, telling it how much we loved it and couldn’t wait to see it…

One little miscarriage can hurt so much…

 

Monday 9 August 2010

While praying, felt urge to do tarot reading. Also, runic.

[I] sat, placed the stone from Becca’s to my left and slightly in front of me, around the ten-o’clock position. I placed the spearhead that we found in our garden our first summer here directly in front of me, at twelve o’clock. I placed the crystal from Becca’s slightly in front of me and to my right, in the two-o’clock position.

Gilded Tarot (As [I] shuffled, keeping mind clear, so I would receive any msg the Divine felt important, I had a vision of a crossroads [that I always used to drive].)

Past—8 of Swords

Present—6 of Wands

Future—Hanging Man (XII) [reversed]

Initial impression—I have felt incredibly constrained, imprisoned, blinded & on my knees, but now is a time of joyous return, people hailing me for my accomplishments. Self-sacrifice; though everything [is] upside down, it feels and looks right.

[Notes from the book that came with the tarot deck:] The situation I was in was of my own making, so I can also unmake it.

Achievements (current) are result of well-made decisions. Enjoy any accolades, but don’t linger too long at them. Must keep going. Know when & what to sacrifice. Don’t worry abt being out of sync w/ others if true to myself. Beware, however, of using an excuse to misbehave.

 

Sunstone runes: (A hard draw. … First stone [drawn was] particularly charged. Second came quickly, no hesitation. 3rd slower, but loud)[1]

Overview—Wunjo—Joy [reversed]

Challenge—Inguz—Fertility

Action—Algiz—Protection

Things are slow in coming to fruition. … Consideration & deliberation called for. Everything, of course, is a test, so know that I cannot fail, especially focusing on the present, staying sincere toward others, and trusting in myself.

I now have the strength to achieve completion, resolution, for a new beginning. Completion is crucial. Must fertilize the ground for my own deliverance. Must complete a project now.

Control of the emotions during transition—don’t collapse into self. New opportunities and challenges may come and with them may be some unwanted influences. … If feel pain, observe it & stay with it; don’t try to avoid or deny it.[2]

 

Tuesday 10 August 2010

The past couple of days, whenever I wake up and am still in the haze of sleep, I have caught myself realizing that I had gotten out of bed and stumbled to wherever (bathroom, alarm clock, etc.) without trouble [in the night]. So then I think, Maybe all my vision’s returned! and I open my eyes wide, only to see that’s not the case. Then I’m not disappointed but kind of laugh at myself. I think the hope upon waking is a good sign.

 

Wednesday 11 August 2010

A year ago, [we were] perhaps the happiest we’ve ever been, despite worrying about if the little bit of spotting was something to worry about, and whether Medicaid would go through.

Today, [I’m feeling] glum, sorry for myself. This is not the life I wanted, worrying about my health, about getting care, about being a parent, about driving. I always thought my life was good so I could help other people. But now I wonder how I can help others when it’s such a struggle against circumstance … to even keep on sometimes.

I woke up cheerful. Where did that go?

 

Thursday 12 August 2010

Dear Lord, bring me peace, quiet my mind. My soul is troubled. I lay my heart bare and ask only for comfort, rest, guidance. Peace. Hope.

***

I feel rage, anger. I want to throw things, to break them. I am so angry, so disappointed. I’m becoming bitter. I cry at admitting—even at feeling—the anger or the bitterness. In my head, I rail at Mike for being so uncompromising, for cutting me off from life, for imposing his self-imposed isolation on me. We need different things socially, and we always have, but before, I could drive, so I could get company when I needed it. I could leave him alone with his video games while I spent time with family or friends, even when it would piss him off, because I needed it, and he didn’t understand that. But now he’s in a position to deny me anything on a whim and there’s not much I can do about it except ask others to take me out when they have a chance.

It’s not fair to place all the blame on Mike, so I try not to just bitch or whine until I get my way, which is what he says I do. … I seek compromise, solutions, ways of getting what I need or want, and he sees it simply as him having to do something he doesn’t want to do—he refuses to recognize the compromise, the effort I put in. …

No, it’s not fair, me pinning all my frustrations on him. But he hasn’t had all his freedoms taken away like a naughty child being punished.

We’re in a situation that has no good resolution. In his mind, I think, he works harder and sacrifices more than I do, and if he’s not allowed vacation days, neither am I. …

When did he cease to be my husband and become my warden?

Seriously, what the hell?

I’m losing my patience with biting my tongue and trying to be diplomatic to avoid fights. So often, I just want to say, “Oh, grow up!” or “Get the fuck over it. This is what responsibility is. Welcome to doing all the shit I used to do and you never knew.”

 

Friday 13 August 2010

“[A]long with the pain and suffering and the wrongs and the evils and the mystery of life, love, in any of its forms, ultimately pulls us through. … Our own earthly love is the prism through which we can glimpse but a flicker of God’s infinite love for us.” —I. B. Wells, Women of Summer

This is a wonderful image, and a wonderful point. I have been blessed with such love in my life, from so many places, so many people, that I know God’s love is infinite, indeed. I can feel and sense God’s love sometimes, but sometimes when it seems that I no longer can, I usually find it from family members, and I have to remind myself that this is how God is choosing to reveal His love at that time—through friends and family members. When they are providing that bit of love for Him, He knows it will carry me through.

***

I admit, sometimes I’m wrong about Mike. Sometimes I’m just tired of dealing with shit—from life and from him—and get more pissed than I should. And sometimes he simply surprises me.

I had asked Mike to wake me when he woke, and when he did, he was sweet and patient and had the tender sweet voice I love so much. … And it made me wake up, groggy as I was, with a smile on my face. He was already showered and dressed and had done a load of dishes and was only waiting for me to shower before he started laundry. He was a man with a plan, and he was laid back. I rarely see him laid back.

We planned out our grocery trips and laundry days and yardwork for the next few days based on his new schedule, and wrote it on the calendar without him stressing. …

And when I brought up Turtle Soup [a get-together that my parents have every year], he mentioned that he may actually be able to use his floating holiday … or even swap nights with someone so I could go to Soup without it messing up his sleep schedule too much. He was even planning ways to sleep as much as possible in catnaps [at my parents’], whereas yesterday, he’d simply complained about how he wouldn’t be able to rest [if we went to Soup]. And when I mentioned the possibility of Mom and Dad visiting, then taking me home with them for a week or two, … he was okay with it. …. He admitted that it would take a little extra planning in consideration of his meals, but he said it would be fine because “you need to get out of the house.”

None of it was said grudgingly, which is the really strange part. …[It was] simply an admission that he recognized the facts and although he wasn’t happy about all parts of the situation, it was well within normal variations and tolerances to find a “solution.”

It’s amazing the difference that rest makes in my husband. …

Yesterday, [he had a] full day to do whatever the hell he wanted, no questions asked; today, [he’s] a brand-new man. I’m still a little surprised when I think about … the difference.

Sometimes he’s still such an enigma.

***

It’s apparently one of those days when looking at a photo of a friend’s child is okay, and I’m happy for them but if I look too long or see too many happy photos, I break into sobs.

What do you do when the thing you’ve wanted most and longest in life is denied you?

 

Saturday 14 August 2010

I don’t really live my life in days and weeks anymore. Mostly, it’s moments—sad moments, happy moments, jittery moments. The moments may last for a few hours—maybe even a day—but that’s about their upper limit.

Today, for example, I was on a mostly even, neutral keel. Then a few pictures of kids, and I’m sobbing off and on for 20 minutes, sometimes just a trickling tear, sometimes the sobs that hurt my ribs and heart, and leave my lungs burning for oxygen because they’ve seized up.

I can’t wait to have an entire week go by without me crying in sadness or longing to shout and throw things at life to break its composure. Just 1 week without feeling anguish—complete and utter hopelessness—or helplessness or fury. Just one week.

A week ago—hell, earlier this afternoon—I felt like the old me was “back”…or nearly back…and as much of the “old me” I could be, given what’s happened. But then this. I don’t want part of the “permanent” me that results from the miscarriage and PTC and vision loss to be this weepy, this bitter, this angry. I know these are all parts of grieving, so I hope they are still only the vestiges of my grief, the guest who always seems to overstay his welcome. Of course, in Judaism, a standard one-year grieving period is in place after a loved one dies. I’m not quite through that year yet—still walking through the valley of the shadow, through my year of shadow and light.

 

Saturday 21 August 2010

In the middle of sleeping today, I woke up, and it hit me—the thought that my vision will be this fucked up for the rest of my life—that either God doesn’t care or this is just my lot in life. I was neutral with the feeling at the time. I’m still fighting the thought now, thinking instead that there’s always a chance. There’s stem cell research happening in other countries to try to fix similar damage. That voice of hope is weak (very weak) in me some days, but I have to keep believing, to keep hoping. For one, I was promised, and for two: Well, if I don’t have hope, I don’t have anything.

As I read somewhere once … Expect the best, but be prepared for the worst.

 

Sunday 22 August 2010

I have the album Foundation by the Zac Brown Band. Fabulous album. I love it. But the first song, “Toes,” is bittersweet. It’s a great song. But the first time I remember hearing it was on my way home … last summer. I was singing aloud in the sunshine, sitting [in the car] in the driveway, singing loudly, to remind myself “life is good today, life is good today,” because I was worried about the baby and my health. I was very worried, probably about spotting, but maybe just about getting Medicaid approval.

I still can’t hear the first beautiful bars of the song without flashing to sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, parked behind Mike’s [vehicle], feeling the heat of the sun pouring in through the windshield while I looked at our sunflower patch and the vibrant green all around, the deep blue with a few puffy clouds above. All while tears streamed down my face and my heart was filled with fear that I was striving to drown out…

I want to stop feeling all this sadness. And I want the joy I feel to be real again, not just a mere shadow of what it was before, a mockery.

***

Mom and Dad are going to get here Saturday and take me back with them on Sunday. I’ll be there almost two weeks. I miss them so much. And I love them. And it’s still amazing to me that they’re willing to go to such lengths just to see me and let me visit with people. Of course, if I could still drive, it’s the sort of thing I’d do for others, and I wouldn’t think myself [special] for it, so I’m not sure why I’m always taken aback by it in others. Well, I guess that’s not true—the amazement I feel isn’t “surprise” amazement but rather “gratitude” and “happiness” amazement.

Sometimes I’m beset with the idea that I have to simply learn some key lessons and then my sight will return. And maybe so, but I already know I grow lax and fall behind in those lessons quickly, so who’s to say I’ll manage to learn them all in this life?

 

Thursday 26 August 2010

It seems I just keep bringing hardship to Mike in some form or another. I can’t imagine that the happiness I bring him is worth all this frustration, yet he keeps me and keeps doing this stuff despite me telling him a few times (very truthfully) I understand if he divorces me. But, as he told me one day, he’s still here. …

 

Friday 27 August 2010

Christianity keeps calling me. The songs make me cry, I hear the voice: “Come to me.” But why Christianity? Why can’t I just be for God, I asked. No response, but the urge to fall to my knees. But I couldn’t do it. I cried, but I couldn’t kneel, not to Jesus. He was a fine man, I’m sure, and I follow a lot of the teachings that are passed down as his. But why would he require me to kneel, to swear fealty, as it were? “You were promised to this before all others,” a voice tells me.

Certainly, I was baptized, and I went through confirmation when I was, what, 14? I never made a lasting commitment to Wicca. I commit myself regularly to God—to God. The almighty Divine that rules the world—Judaism, Buddhism, Humanism, Islam, Christianity, Jainism, atheism, and all the others. Not Jesus, Buddha, Muhammed—they all teach and share, but they were teachers, leaders, even filled with divinity. …

Now I feel a bit of emptiness, but it’s rather like the [emptiness] that fills me … when I disagree with an authority figure but still know [that disagreeing is] what I need to do.

Really, why swear myself to one teacher where there’s so much to learn? And when I follow all the important rules. “But how do you know they’re the important ones without someone telling you?” the voice asks. Because I listen to my heart instead of the people who say I should kill or treat someone poorly because they eat bacon or drink alcohol or believe the Messiah is yet to come rather than already has … or any number of things.

We are all human, and we are all children of God, siblings of Jesus.

Right now, I just can’t believe differently. Not in good conscience. It’s not my path. (Though it would be so much easier to give in and follow. The struggle itself causes me pain, but the worthwhile tasks are rarely easy.) But when I break out in tears of pain and frustration of the struggle, I pray, “Please, God, give me strength. Please.” And within moments, the tears are gone along with the pain. This is God’s greatness. Thanks be.

***

It seems everyone’s intent to make me bawl today. And I’m convinced I know some of the most amazing people in the world. I had this message waiting for me on Facebook from Becca. I know length of time doesn’t determine depth or value of a relationship, but it’s still amazing. I’ve only known her a little more than 2 months.

Here’s her message:

[My husband] and I were talking about your vision loss in connection with your miscarriage. … Give me a chance to knock out a kid or 2 on my own and then if you are open to the idea and really want a child that is biologically yours and Mike’s I am will[ing] to be a host Mom. It’s not something that most people think of and it’s not the kind of thing that just comes up in conversation, so I thought I should let you know directly. …  I would be willing to care for myself like I was carrying precious cargo and I would expect you at every doctor’s appointment for the entire pregnancy. But we could work all that out later. I just wanted you to know this was not just some half-assed offer, that we have thought about this in detail. Just ponder it and I’ll bring it up closer to when it would be even more a possibility.

I’ve thought of surrogates before, of course, but couldn’t even consider asking anyone to do such a thing. When I managed to stop sobbing so I could see, I couldn’t find words of thanks good enough for even the offer. … [I am] happy, honored, bewildered (Can it be real? Could we accept such a gracious gift?).

Notes

[1] When I am careful about drawing, my hand hovers over the oracle and I feel a strong tingling sensation in the area around what I have since learned is the pineal gland. It’s the same feeling you get when you hold a fingertip right in front of the bridge of your nose, almost like two magnets repelling each other, but the stronger, or “louder” the feeling it is, the more of my head it encompasses.

[2] Now that I read it in context of the whole month, it seems this was a warning to me about what was coming in the rest of the month.

 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share this part of my journey with you. Please let me know what you think so far and if you want to hear/read more of my story.

If this is the first chapter of my story that you’ve read or listened to, you can catch up by listening to all of the episodes on my YouTube playlist, starting here.

 

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