Now that I was responding to Spirit’s call to me, acting on the advice that my guides shared, things should have started to get better, I thought. Instead, the month was very challenging. I felt at odds with my husband—in turns angry with him, worried that I’d lost him, despairing that I’d fallen out of love with him. Finally, though, near the end of the month, I started to hear a “call to new life,” as my tarot book phrased it. I answered the call suddenly one day, almost without realizing it. I loudly proclaimed to the universe that I wanted to live, that I wanted to make every moment count. I consciously chose to begin a new life, and I promised that new life to Divine purpose.

There were so many messages and so much learning in July 2010 that I’ve broken the chapter up in two parts. This is part 2. You can watch the YouTube video of this second part of chapter 20 using the following link, or read it below.

 

Thursday 8 July 2010

I posted yesterday’s journal entry to my blog and then received … an e-mail response … from [someone saying], … “Thank you so much for this. It was so very timely. I am passing it on as encouragement to a couple of my friends.”

It … show[s me] that as long as I’m following Divine will, I will write the right thing and send it to the right place at just the right time, because God is working through me.

 

Friday 9 July 2010

Today, I felt called to write a letter to my step-grandfather. … I felt I had to forgive him and also ask for forgiveness. We are supposed to love those who are not easy to love, and I am working on that. Certainly, I don’t think I’m all the way there yet with him, but I’m working on it. I wrote the letter, and now I simply need to mail it.

 

Dear Grandpa,

I know I haven’t written in a very long time, since before Grandma died [2005]. I am sorry for that. I don’t stay in touch with people well, I’ve found.

I’m writing to say I’m sorry for several things, most importantly that I don’t feel I ever loved you as much as you deserve to be loved. I do love you, for many reasons, especially because you were so good to Grandma and have tried so hard to be good to her children and grandchildren. … You took tremendously good care of Grandma while she was sick and dying, and I cannot express how much that means to me. I found it hard at the time to tell you, because of my own shortcomings and anger and irritation, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you now. But thank you. Thank you for loving Grandma and taking care of her, and thank you for loving her children and grandchildren as your own.

Thank you, too, for giving me Grandma’s [wedding] rings. They mean so very much to me, and wearing them, I feel closer to her. About a year after we got married, Mike and I had our house robbed, and all of my jewelry was stolen. I didn’t have much, but nearly every piece was important to me in some way. … The only piece I still have is the wedding ring set, and only because they are ALWAYS on my finger were they saved from being stolen.[1]

I have been through a lot physically in the past year, and that has led me through a lot of emotions I had never confronted before. It has led me to examine a lot of feelings I had for other people, and today, my examinations led me to my feelings of you. Through all of the things that have happened in the past few months, I have also renewed my closeness with the Divine. Through all of my trials this year, I have felt both Grandma … and Mammaw … close by my side, giving me encouragement and lending me strength. Today, I have felt called by Divine will to write you, and though I didn’t want to because I was afraid of hurting your feelings, of opening up the source of some of my own hurts, I feel the gentle calming of my grandmothers encouraging and reassuring me.

I would like to ask your forgiveness. Of course, you have every right not to grant it, but I’m asking just the same. I ask for forgiveness for not loving you as I loved Grandma, for not loving you as my neighbor, for not forgiving you what I perceived were your sins and faults. I do love you, I always have, because you are one of my grandfathers, but I feel that I held back some of that love and looked unkindly on you sometimes. Though I know you loved—and probably still love—Grandma, I didn’t always like the way you treated her. In fact, I didn’t like the way you treated a lot of people. When I came to visit, I was visiting Grandma and often trying to stay away from you as much as possible because I felt upset when I was near you for too long. You have your reasons for the views you have, but I always felt uncomfortable at the … racist … sexist and otherwise hateful remarks you made about other people.

I never knew when you were going to lose your temper or be upset about something, and you often yelled at anyone you knew would sit quietly and take it. You often blamed things on other people and often assumed it was someone else’s fault, or at least looked for someone to blame. I hated going out with you because you often treated people with a lack of respect. I remember once when we went out to celebrate one of my birthdays and you nearly made our waitress cry because of the rude way you treated her … because … the restaurant used a brand of [tea] you didn’t like [the taste of]. She had no control over that, but you treated her unkindly.

I’m not proud that I held these things against you. I once was, but then I realized I was as much to blame because I never tried to help the situation. Often, out of respect for Grandma, I never spoke up to tell you that I [didn’t appreciate your behavior]. I didn’t speak up because I’d always been taught to treat others—especially my elders—with respect. But because I did not feel respect for you in those times, I only hung my head in shame and … stayed quiet, never speaking up for … others. Only now do I realize that because I was not speaking up … I was not actually respecting all the people around you at those times.

I’m not writing these things to hurt you or anger you in any way, and I am sorry if they do upset you. I have, in the past, referred to you in unkind ways to others. When Grandma died, honestly, I was relieved that I would no longer have to have anything to do with you. … I realize I was wrong—and rude, because you had always treated me like your very own granddaughter. Even when I told myself at those times that I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, knowing your life hasn’t always—or maybe ever—been easy, I had my heart and mind set against you. I am truly sorry.

I love you, as a child of God, as a husband to my grandmother, as a stepfather to my mother, [and] as a grandfather. Though I may not always agree with your beliefs or approve of how you have behaved, I do love you, which was something I had forgotten.

If you never want to have anything to do with me again, I understand. If you cannot forgive me for the things I’ve written here, I understand. But if you are still reading this far, I would like to urge you to be more forgiving toward and understanding of your children and stepchildren. They may make mistakes, and they may not act the way you want them to act (including toward you), but if you don’t forgive them and love them and SHOW them you love them, no strings attached, it’s far more difficult for them to do the same for you. Even as adults, we learn from the examples our parents set.

May the love and peace of God fill your heart.

Stephanie

 

Saturday 10 July 2010

Worrying things happening again last night. I felt like my eyes did strange things, which made my heart palpitate. …

I kept dreaming of being suffocated, and I kept waking up, being unable to breathe, gasping for air, like when all this stuff started happening back in October. Even after I finally got up this morning, I couldn’t seem to breathe right. [I called two doctors’ offices. At one office, left a message requesting a call back on Monday; no option to leave a message at the other.] I’m praying this wasn’t a flare-up, or that it was but it will go away soon, but I just don’t know. I took a walk outside to help try to get my breathing under control, and it seemed to help. It also seemed to get my blood pressure to a normal level for me, which was really good. …

I suppose if nothing else, on Monday, I’ll call Dr. L and ask to be seen. … This is awful. I just wish I had one doctor I could get a hold of whenever necessary, and insurance to cover it, and not have to worry that not taking any action wouldn’t hurt me and my vision further. …

By the way, today’s Facebook tarot card:

Eight of Swords Reversed
A feeling that someone has captured you and you cannot get free. Someone is holding something over your head and you can’t see the way out. Powerlessness. Waiting for someone to rescue you from a situation. Desiring to play the role of the victim instead of taking responsibility for yourself. Trapped. Too many obstacles in the way, you have decided to do nothing. Lack of direction.

It’s definitely accurate about me feeling overwhelmed and oppressed by a dark force. That’s certainly how I felt when I woke up this morning. I’m certainly not wanting to play the role of the victim—I’m trying to take whatever action I can (and wracking my brain to figure out what those actions can be). And as for choosing not to do anything, I think I DID do something in making the phone calls and asking people questions and for help. It’s not optimal, but we certainly don’t have the money for other things.

 

Monday 12 July 2010

Heard back from Dr. R’s office today. He said if I’ve had vision changes, I should go to the neuro and the ophthalmologist. So I started calling everyone, trying to find a ride to Dr. L’s office, as Dr. L’s in only on Wednesday this week.

I think my vision’s recovering, but there’s been such glare in the living room the past couple of days (even Mike commented on it), it’s hard to be sure. Still, I spoke with Dr. L’s nurse today when scheduling, and she asked if I’d been having problems. I explained that we’ve been treating me for sinusitis issues and that I’ve had blurred vision a day or two, sensitivity to light a day or two, headaches a couple of times, so she agreed I should be seen. …

Anyway, I [did a tarot reading]. …

I like the idea of possible regaining of my health [that was] mentioned in one of the cards, but I don’t like the mention of [it being] almost too late to change paths. And building strong foundations to prevent loss? Yikes. I’m doing all I know I can do, I think, except seeing a neurologist, and that’s only because I don’t think Dr. H really knows what he’s doing with IIH. … If only we had insurance and didn’t have to worry about stupid money so much. Ugh. Of course, my plan was to not call Dr. L until today anyway…

And I got a call back from Dr. S’s [neuro-ophthalmologist] office. They can see me, but she’s booked until November, and an initial visit to her will cost about $500. So depending on what goes on [on] Wednesday with Dr. L, I may have to make an ASAP appointment with Dr. H and hope for paying a little less because it’s not an initial visit. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Slow and steady recovery is good, though in the context [the mention is made in the cards], I don’t know if it’s money or health. Either one is very good, and both would be just FANTASTIC. I just keep “praying and hoping and wishing” as the song says…

***

So, Mike suggested to me outright that he thinks I’m depressed and that’s making me THINK there’s something wrong with my eyes when there’s nothing going on. I told him I don’t think that’s the case. It could be, I admitted, but I don’t think it is. I suggested, too, that it could be [that] the sinus adjustments we’ve been making have affected my vision and that it’s so slight that most people would never notice such a change because their brains would account for the problem, but that because my field of vision is so small, I notice even the slightest changes. That’s one thing that people forget—that our brains adjust to changes if they are small enough, so we can gradually lose vision without ever noticing.

But then a little later, when I was on the phone with Mom, [Mike] suggested that maybe I was making this up subconsciously as a way to get out of the house. At first, I … scoffed at the thought and said, “No. No way.” But the more I think about it, the more it saddens me that he thinks such a thing. If it weren’t for my health, I’d really want something to show up as wrong so I could at least “prove” that I’m not making it up for attention or to get out of the house. But I don’t want anything to be wrong. I’m a little hurt by the thought. And true, he did say “subconsciously,” but still, the implication of the statement—what it means he thinks of me—saddens me. He doesn’t trust me at all. He never did with money, and now it’s my health—he doesn’t trust that I’m competent enough to make sound judgments. Or at least that’s what it feels like to me. Maybe that’s not at all what it means, but that’s how I interpret it. But then it gets down to the heart of what a lot of really ill people have to face, doesn’t it? Health care practitioners and loved ones thinking … that the sick person is doing this all for attention, or that it’s “all in their head.” I’m not doing it for the attention. And if I truly wanted to get out of the house, I’d do it defiantly. I’d ask someone to come take me out for the day for no good reason. Because, by God, going to sit in a doctor’s office is not the way I really fancy getting myself out of the house, especially since I have to call in every favor and humble myself to ask everyone I know—everyone I’ve already asked for favor after favor—to take me. Yeah, sounds just like my idea of a good time.

 

Monday 19 July 2010

Finally printing the form to apply for a disability hangtag for the car … for the winter, when it’s … cloudy and I can’t tell the difference between [slush, ice, and snow on the ground] but I have to walk through half a dimly lit parking lot with such problems. But I can’t help but wonder, is this selling out? I still have faith that my vision will be restored. Is applying for this card the same as telling God that I no longer have faith? I try to reason with myself, saying no, it’s not, because I can get a short-term placard that works for just a few months, but it will take longer than just a few months for my vision to not be so limited any longer. Somehow, those words seem a little hollow.

And then I worry about all the hassle, because if I get this placard, it is the same as telling [the DMV] that I can no longer drive, and my license will be revoked. I mean, I’m not using it anyway, but that’s hardly the point. It’s giving up another potential freedom. …

Still, sometimes it just feels like a cop-out, like I’m taking the easy way out, like I’m taking advantage of every little benefit offered to me. Of course, then part of me says, Of course you’re taking advantage of every little benefit offered. It’s because you can’t get any REAL benefits offered to you. You’re fighting and scraping for every little bit of humanity left in you, to make it on your own with your husband without trying to get disability benefits. All you want is healthcare, and you can’t get that, so why not a friggin’ hangtag that lets you be a little closer to the building when people drive you places? Is that petty? It’s certainly small comfort.

 

Thursday 22 July 2010

I … post[ed my journal entry about applying for the disability hangtag to my blog]. Dana just responded to it:

That’s a very sad post. God knows. I LOVE YOU. The red tape will be a hassle regardless of what you do or don’t do. You not only deserve to be closer to the building, but you deserve flower petals being thrown at your feet as you walk towards the entrance (or the exit, however you decide to enter). I’ll let you know if you become one of “those people” who are taking advantage of benefits you are undeserving of. …

Flower petals at my feet? It might be a little much, but it certainly gets the point across. I’m so lucky for this friend. I want to thank her, but I don’t even know what to say. I don’t think words can say it.

 

Thursday 29 July 2010

On ride back from Becca’s today, thought about debt, and work, and Mike, and Becca’s 3-month spell of amnesia, when she was someone else. I was relaxing in the sun and the wind. And I was thinking of my life insurance policy and my parents and that Mike would be taken care of if I died. I felt at peace for a moment, but then I realized, “No, I want to live! It’s no longer okay with me either way if I live or die. I want to live, damn it!” Suddenly, I want [to drink] a gallon of water, I want to work instead of waste time, I don’t want to waste time. I want to live. I want to throw my arms around my husband, sobbing, and tell him how much I love him and how much I’ve missed him, even though, technically, neither of us has been away.

Today is the first day of my new life.

 

Saturday 31 July 2010

Been dragging my feet. Finally COMPLETED the application for disability parking placard. It’ll probably be another week or two before I can bring myself to mail it to Dr. L’s office to ask for a signature. I’m full of trepidation. I don’t want to give up the last vestige of my freedom, my driver’s license. I don’t want to finally admit that I am disabled. I know I’m beginning a new life, as I vowed on the way home from Becca’s, but must it be this complete shedding? Must I slough off this part of my skin? Can’t I retain a few patches here and there as reminders? I guess they do become dry and scaly without the rest of the layer they belong to, but this one, this one, I cherish. I haven’t had this freedom in practice in months, so the symbolism is all I have. But that’s clinging to the past, rather than looking to the future, to the possibility of driving again in the future.

Let go of the past, be in the present, and look forward to new freedoms. This is what my inner voice tells me. It’s like the responsible voice you hear as a teenager but drown out because you’re not yet ready to face the responsibility of adulthood, so you cling to the past. That’s what I’m doing, and I have to realize that it’s getting me nowhere. But realizing it and accepting it are different things.

***

Contentment and hugging last night. After Mike got home, I simply hugged him. And when he told me he didn’t feel as stressed and tired as he had the past couple of days, I told him I’d missed him, though not because of the way he’d been acting. I’d missed him as me, of course, because I’d been gone for months emotionally and spiritually and have been having a long journey back. But it was a breath of air across both of us. When I climbed in bed last night beside the already-sleeping Mike, within two or three minutes, he was snuggled up next to me, his forehead against my lips and his arm around me. When I got up a bit later to use the restroom, he let me go easily, and when I climbed back in bed, his arm immediately wrapped around me and pulled me close. He snuggled up as close as he could get. And then he moved my hair out of his face and rested his head on it. Any time I got up in the night and climbed back in bed, his arm was waiting for me, he held me close. All night. At one point, I woke up, overheated, so I slept in another room for a bit to cool down. When I woke up from the other room and then climbed in bed with Mike again, his arm was across my spot, just waiting for me, waiting to wrap around me again. I think the last time we snuggled that much was our wedding night—or maybe even long before, back when we were just starting to date.

Was this a response to the change in me? Or was it just a change in him? Or is our world finally starting to right itself again, all over again, as we strive to be equal partners in this life once again?

***

Was just doing some more rearranging of items on shelves in the office and found a paper grocery bag on the top shelf of one closet. … I lifted it down and found a treasure trove. Inside was a photo box full of old family photos. … And below that was my baptismal candle. …. And below that, my baby book. Inside [were] … a bonnet and slippers and a onesie…and what looked like a single hand cover for when I was first born. Everything so tiny. And I turned into a quivering mass of tears. I’m someone’s baby. That is, I’m still someone’s baby. I’m still two someones’ baby. And even though I’m still incredibly sad sometimes that we lost our baby before we ever really had a chance to know it, I’m still here, even though a couple of times, I may have gotten very close to NOT being here. And that would have made more than just ME sad, because I’m still two someones’ baby and someone’s wife. And I’ve had the distinct privilege of seeing on my husband’s face just how much I mean to him, when I woke up in the hospital after passing out, and hearing him tell me months later that he didn’t really grieve the loss of our baby, or the loss of my vision, because he had faced his biggest fear that night in the hospital, when he had thought I died.

I long for a child more than I have words to express, more than any part of my body can even understand completely. My heart aches to look on the face of my child; my face longs to smile at my husband’s child; my arms crave a child to wrap around; my voice longs for two tiny ears to sing lullabies to, to read bedtime stories to. My spirit strives to … I don’t even know. I can’t find the words…it’s primal…and [yet] above language, rather than below it.

My husband’s biggest fear was losing me. I’m still someone’s baby.

We all—whether we remember it or not, whether we know it or not, whether we have children or not—are still someone’s baby. All of us mean something special to someone—to a whole host of someones—and will leave behind at least someone who is sad because we have died.

Even my little miscarried baby was someone’s baby—MY baby, my husband’s baby—and is missed. And is loved.

 

Oracular Reading

Asked: Tell me what I need to know for what’s ahead.

(Gilded Tarot, daily spread)
(All reversed)
1. Works—2 of Cups
2. Home—Knight of Cups
3. Unexpected—Judgment (XX)
4. My Role—Page of Pentacles
5. Outcome—8 of Pentacles

Be aware of unrealized potential. The potential for creating something very special in a partnership is there. Honor & enjoy the moment, but don’t let it be lost or [let it] enslave me.

Be aware of daydreaming when I shouldn’t.

Be aware of ignoring or shirking the call to new life. Don’t ignore the music of my own heart.

I am ready to present my work to the outside world, perhaps time to consider something more complicated and challenging. … Also be careful of stagnation. Continue to challenge self, and don’t become lazy. Page of Pents can indicate a [message], usually pertaining to a project you’ve completed, finances or resources.

I am involved in a “course of study” in preparation for a better future. Be aware of driving self too hard & to the exclusion of all else.

Note

[1] It turned out that a few other pieces of jewelry had been saved—all of it had once belonged to my grandmothers and great-grandmothers. Somehow, I had forgotten one ring at my parents’ house after a visit, had mispacked a certain necklace in a box of office supplies that didn’t get unpacked until sometime in 2011 (three years after our move and the burglary, and a year or so after I wrote this letter).

***

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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