The Holidays for Caregivers

What will Christmas be like without mom? I'm about to find out, with support from the folks at Caregiving.com...

The holidays will never be the same after a death of someone close to you. Even if that person got under your skin, something in you will expect that irritation -- especially during the holidays. That voice! Will it stay in your head forever?

On the other hand, the loss can be overwhelming. Not only is a loved one gone, but your life has changed. Forever. There's no pulling a cat out of a hat on that one. What are you feeling now? Rage? Frustration? Guilt?

No matter what you're feeling (if you survived Thanksgiving, that is), you might find comfort in the holiday survival articles posted at Caregiving.com. The "Attitudes on Platitudes" gave me my first laugh-out-loud moment yesterday. "Bah Humbug? A True Tale of Christmas" showed me how I have the power to alter my holiday traditions to make a new history for myself and my family. "Ten Signs an Aging Relative Needs Help" helped me decide if my remaining parent needs help or if I need help...(reading halfway through the list made me realize I'm in dire straits!).

I invite you to snoop around at Caregiving.com to see if this site fits your needs. I know, while caregiving, that little time is spent on what the caregiver needs or wants...and it takes time to commit to dedicating yourself to a group of individuals who may really understand you and care about you...but, hey. During the holidays, it might be just what you need.

Membership is free. Just join us. Now.

The Writers' Retreat

Writing away at the writers' retreat.

I am so very grateful for contributions to my Indiegogo campaign -- which is almost at an end. Thanks to my supporters, I was able to attend the Green River Writers retreat at the Kavanaugh Center in Crestwood, Kentucky, this past weekend, where I had access to solitude for writing, to writers who offered constructive criticism for my poetry (which is going into the memoir), and an opportunity to read part of my memoir to a discerning audience.

I'll never read that piece in front of an audience again. The part I chose was the third section, where my mother dies. The part about breathe. I actually lost my breathe while reading the piece aloud. One fellow writer thought -- just for a second -- that I was acting, then realized that I was almost in distress. But, I pulled it out of the hat; although, today I'm exhausted. Reading that one particular portion of the memoir wore me out as much as swimming the English Channel (not that I can swim, mind you).

I haven't been able to attend a Green River retreat for three years. The last time I attended a retreat, my mother was in apparent good health. It was a constant marvel to me how the past two years flew by, how quickly a story can become a dark memory that's so easily tucked into a corner. By forcing myself to get out, reconnect, and read and write, I'm forcing myself to connect to my mother's death over and over again. I can take it...I hope, though, that none of my perceptions are warped in the process.

This is why it's so important for me to write now, when memories are fresh.

Other highlights this past weekend:

1. My laptop is biting the dust. Crap.
2. Met George Eklund at the retreat and learned about some of his creative poetry processes.
3. I reconnected with several friends who also lost spouses, parents, and friends over the past three years.
4. I connected with new friends who also lost spouses, parents, and friends over the past few years.

One writer friend lost 29 friends -- some close, some not-so-close -- over the past year. We can't figure out if all these losses are normal at our ages, or if we're actually transitioning into a Stephen King novel. The cancer losses are breathtaking.

You can view some photos I took at the conference if you want to feel more connected, too. I'm into black and white photography right now, as you'll learn. I think someone took a photo of me along the way, but I'm not certain. I do have witnesses.

Letters from the Past

Letters, negatives, and other paraphernalia.

Mom left behind a lot of "things" to go through. I don't like her stealthy way of hiding recipes (which all can found found online save a few), coupons (some dated to 2005 or earlier), and newspaper clippings. Other items, like the box filled with letters that her parents wrote the month before mom was born in 1934, are well worth discovering.

I went through this box of letters a few nights ago. Being an historian, I recognized the value of these letters. They're not just love letters filled with endearments...they're artifacts that give a glimpse into what life was like in Virginia in August, 1934.

At that time, my grandmother, Elizabeth, was living in Roanoke. Her husband of barely nine months, Leo, was stationed as a National Guard recruit in Virginia Beach. It was four years into the Great Depression, and my grandparents note the cost of several items. They also talk about borrowing $3.00 like it was a burden and a sin. And, yet, they're about to have their first child together.

I think these letters might make for yet another book...

Overcoming Another Major Organization Hurdle

My desk this morning and then...this afternoon.

By the end of November, I should have this house in fairly decent shape. I need to be more organized, because I'm juggling several balls right now -- my Etsy shop, Amazon book sales, an upcoming writing workshop, clients, and -- the main purpose behind all this activity -- my memoir.

It made perfect sense for me to tackle my desk today in light of the deadline I set for myself with clients and the book. In the photos above, you can see a cluttered desk filled with items that I needed to list on Amazon and other items I need to photograph for sale on my Etsy shop (links to both venues are listed in the right column). All those items now are in their proper places, mostly. I did make it through the books today, and they're all out the door, listed on Amazon, or on my bookcase in the bedroom. I'm limiting myself to one bookcase for books I want to keep.

The other items are sitting on the folding table behind me as I sit at my desk. My next task is to photograph those pieces, then list them on Etsy and put them away in a nice, neat box until they're sold.

I don't know if I would have found the motivation to become more organized without Caregiving.com's 30-Day Organization Challenge. I don't like to fail at anything, and making a commitment to this challenge was one of the best things I could have done for my family and for myself. I have been battling depression for the past two years since before mom's diagnosis, and my struggle seems to be worse lately. I think it's because I don't have to focus on mom's caregiving anymore, so the focus is on me and my losses. It's all part of grief and grieving. A competition to become more organized was, surprisingly, just what I needed to begin to look at my life with new perspective and with less stress.

I'm happy about seeing my desk again. I'm also happy that I've untangled the speakers and separated them for better sound since I took that second photo. During this "desk-cleaning" project I was pleased to find a bracelet I thought I had lost. Bonus!

Now, to rid myself of this paranoia. I feel like the objects lurking on that table behind me are making fun of me and just waiting for me to fail at moving forward on these tasks. Little do they know that I have them on my "organization" hit list for tomorrow.