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tinybuddha:grief and guilt

“They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite.” ~Cassandra Clare

I lost my father to a heart attack when I was sixteen. I went to school on the morning of April 14, 2008 having a dad and went home that night not having one. I soon found myself dealing with an unfamiliar cocktail of emotions, pain so overwhelming that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Every time I thought I was pulling myself together, I’d notice his belt buckle sitting on the dresser, or a pair of his socks on the floor, and suddenly the haphazard stitches I’d been sewing myself up with would tear open with heart-wrenching sobs.

I lost the ability to make simple decisions like what takeout restaurant to order from or what to watch on TV. Nothing made sense that week.

Dad had been my best friend, though not in the sense that he tried to act my age or allowed me to get away with things. On the contrary, my father was quite strict, always pushing me to be a better person.

He was my best friend in that I could go to him with any worry and receive honest, unbiased advice. He forced me to see the good in myself instead of dwelling on the negative. I could cry in front of him knowing that he didn’t feel awkward or want to avoid me like dad characters on TV sitcoms.

On the day of his death I had to accept that I could rely on no one but myself. That in and of itself seemed challenging, but now I had the added burden of everyone else depending on me. I was the shoulder that my mother and younger sister cried on.

As the oldest child I became second in command under Mom. She relied on me for help with planning funeral details and making sure papers were in order. I didn’t mind the new role because it was empowering, as though by helping Mom I was giving back to Dad for everything he’d done for me.

My greatest character flaw has always been focusing on the future instead of remaining grounded in the present. Not surprisingly, my father’s death and my long-term response to grief were no different.

I cried for the entire week after he died. I cried along with everyone else at the funeral. Surely that’s all that grieving was supposed to be, right?

When the funeral was over and the house was devoid of mourners, I picked my life up from where I was before his death.

I avoided living in the “now” because the present was too painful, yet simultaneously tried to convince the rest of the world that I was a strong woman dealing with her pain. I stayed focus on getting into college and doing all of the things I knew my father would have wanted for me.

This worked well until my senior year of college. I was on the Dean’s List, I had just gotten accepted into graduate school, and graduation was right around the corner.

Then my boyfriend proposed.

Except, I never expected that he would propose with my mother’s engagement ring, the same ring my father bought and proposed with. There was now a reminder of my father glimmering on my finger every day that I couldn’t ignore.

Despite it being one of the happiest moments of my life, my engagement caused all of the sadness I’d buried to start bubbling up to the surface with such vigor that it felt like the day of his death all over again. I couldn’t run home and tell Dad the happy news. He wasn’t going to be able to walk me down the aisle.

I realized how much I had been lying to myself. I hadn’t finished grieving because I hadn’t started grieving in the first place. I had been so focused on taking on the role of adult of the house that I didn’t give myself the chance to feel angry, resentful, or depressed, or to find the acceptance I really needed in order to move on.

During the funeral people approached me to say that things would become easier in time. In truth, I don’t think this is ever the case. I have decided that grief never ends; we just find different ways of working with it in our lives.

At twenty-four, I pretend to be a stoic and emotionless professional woman, but discussing my father with people still melts me like butter. I think about him and write about him more now than I did seven years ago, and that’s okay. There are no time limits for grief other than the ones we force on ourselves.

If I could talk to my sixteen-year-old self, I’d tell her she shouldn’t feel guilty for her sadness. She’s entitled to grieve however she wants, for however long she wants. More importantly, I’d tell her that it’s important to take the time to sort out those feelings instead of hiding from them or putting other people first.

I admit that certain memories of Dad still trigger a twinge of heartache. I will always feel emptiness in my life without him here. But I am aware of how much of him still lives with me—in my smile, my hobbies, and in the shared memories of people in my life who had the honor of knowing him.

The key to grieving is not to try and stop it as quickly as possible. Grief cannot be shut off at will, despite how long I spent trying to convince myself otherwise. What matters is that we acknowledge that we are in pain and try to find the goodness in our life despite it.

I used to look down at my engagement ring and feel numbed by sadness, both for the past and for the things that can never be. But with a new mindfulness I can look at my ring, this gift from my father, and know for certain that I’m allowed to move on and find the same happiness that my parents had.

My father’s never going to disappear from my life; he’s just talking in ways that require careful listening

jru confessions:peyupstyle1

Sa ex kong napaka-kapal ng mukha: Hi musta kana? Balita ko tangina ka padin hanggang ngayon ah? Hahaha. Salamat pinagmukha mokong tanga nung nanghingi ka ng cool off. Habang bumabayo ka sa iba, pipigilan mo ko pag mnageentertain ako ng manliligaw. Edi wow na may kasamang sapak sa mukha! Musta? Gawain mo padin bang mangblock ng mga babae mo sa fb ko? Para ano di ko matuklasan? BOBO KA. Kung may hihilingin man ako ngayon, sana....magtagal ka sa college. Haha magfifth year ka mag-isa mo! Sana magkasakit ka sa mga baklang inaarit mo. Sarap buhay ah? haha tangina mo padin hanggang ngayon mwa. Siraan mo pako sa mga nagiging gf mo, karmahin ka sana.

FROM : BSIT
TO: MARKETING ./.

note: sa mga makarelate..ty! dun sa pikon..ewan ko sa inyo...excerpt lang tol!!! www.jru_confessions/fb.com

tb01jan232016

tinybuddha

There are two ways of spreading light: be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” ~Edith Wharton

I tucked my boarding pass safely into my coat pocket, donned my eyeglasses, and searched for the overhead signs that would lead me to the correct gate. Thanksgiving would be here soon and the Orlando airport was bursting at the seams with travelers.

I turned the corner and jerked to a stop. Hundreds of people stood before me, bunched together in a space the size of a ballroom. I’d have to maneuver my way through them, I thought, to get to the security gate off in the distance. And then I quickly realized that’s exactly where all those other people were headed, too.

I resigned myself to a long wait. What a waste of time, I thought to myself. I just want to get home.

A symphony of sounds surrounded me: babies crying, kids fussing, some folks complaining, some laughing, loudspeakers blaring, cell phones ringing, along with the buzz of constant chatter.

This being Orlando, a family wearing mouse ears huddled directly in front of me. I rose up on tiptoes to peek above their heads and catch a glimpse of the security area. Still far away. With no roped lanes to guide us, some newcomers gently nudged by me in an effort to gain a little bit of extra distance. Funny how you can be pressed up against others in a large crowd and at the same time be invisible to them.

The swarm of people slowly funneled their way into one of two security lanes, and at last it was my turn. I handed my identification to the agent and was ushered into a long line of people waiting to go through the scanners. At least now it was an obvious line. No more folks jockeying for position.

The woman behind me sighed. A few seconds later she sighed again. Not a sigh of frustration, more like a sigh of grim resignation. A TSA agent passed by and she flagged him down.

“This is taking so long,” she said. “Will I be able to make my flight on time?” Her tone was one of despair.

“I don’t know,” the agent replied.

“Do you think they will hold the plane a few extra minutes for me?” she asked.

I didn’t hear his response. I imagined he simply shook his head no. “Oh, dear,” she muttered to herself. “Oh, dear.”

At the pace the line was moving I figured it would be another ten minutes at least before we would pass through the x-ray scanners. Then it was anyone’s guess how far you had to walk to arrive at the proper gate.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched the woman behind me lower her head, forlorn and clearly troubled by her situation. I turned to her.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” I said. “Please switch places with me. Every little bit helps.” She gratefully accepted my offer. We both understood that my act saved her perhaps fifteen or twenty seconds of time. Hardly enough time to make a meaningful difference.

But that which is most meaningful may not always be what you think.

Instantly, as if by magic, her demeanor changed from being tense and downcast to cheery and hopeful. She exhaled another sigh, but this time it was a sigh of relief.

“Isn’t this crazy!” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Next time I will plan better. Have you ever seen so many people?”

She stood next to me, not in front of me or behind me, but side-by-side.

We spent the next several minutes chatting happily about ordinary things—where we were headed, how wearisome travel can be, how a cup of strong coffee would taste so good right about now. But her smile never left her. And I was smiling, too. As much as I helped her to feel uplifted, I was now uplifted. My thoughts of a long day of travel ahead of me vanished.

I grew deaf to the noises and chatter all about me. I didn’t see anyone else—no kids in strollers, no adults with mouse ears. This time I wasn’t invisible but everybody else was. It was just the two of us cracking jokes and making small talk. Side-by-side.

Suddenly it was our turn for the x-ray scanner. She thanked me one last time and we parted ways. Within a minute I lost sight of her.

What just happened? I asked myself. And then I realized something important. What this woman wanted was reassurance she would make her flight on time. But what she needed was to know that somebody cared.

And isn’t that what we all need most of the time? When we feel worried or hurt or simply frustrated by life’s burdens; when the “givens” of life (sickness, loss, disappointment, heartbreak) overwhelm us; when we struggle to make our way through another day; a warm embrace, thoughtful gesture, or a hand on our shoulder can be all we need to feel a little more hopeful and, perhaps, a lot more cared about.

I don’t know if that woman got to her plane on time. When you help others along the road you may never know the outcome of their journey. But it may not have been your purpose to know. Your purpose may have been to simply meet them on the path and in some way be a source of light so they can see things from a clearer perspective—and in so doing discovering that they may have been a source of light for you.

As for me, I no longer see long lines as a waste of time but as opportunities to make a difference, however small, in someone’s life.

Never underestimate your power to make a difference in the life of others by even a small act of kindness or a few comforting words. Opportunities abound every day. Seek them out. And we all know this to be true: it is in the giving that we receive.

Lost hope image via Shutterstoc

rightfromtheheart012016

CHANGE THAT IS REAL

"Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old things have passed away, behold, new things have come!" - 2 Corinthians 5:17
Ahh–another new year has come. 2015 has gone and 2016 has come, ready or not. Most of us will admit we have character traits or habits we would like to change. Some of us even try to modify our behavior. But just changing outward behavior is like rolling back the odometer on a car. You reduce the numbers from 200,000 to 20,000, but you still have a car with 200,000 miles on it.
However, there is hope for the person who sincerely desires to change. The power to change like that means admitting we can’t do it on our own. Remember, lasting change comes from within. We need the help of the Lord.
The Bible says if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old is gone and new has come. When we give our lives to Jesus Christ, He transforms us–changes us from the inside out. Instead of just rolling back the odometer and being the same old person inside, He gives us a spiritual heart transplant.
Now, that’s a change for the better. And a change that lasts.

&ccfsingles reminders01

Exercise for Your Vagina

By Heather Rupe, DO

It’s worshipped in some cultures, taboo in others, but ultimately, the vagina is an amazingly versatile muscular tube with a variety of functions: birth canal, outflow track for menstrual blood, in-flow track for sperm (this list is in random order). Childbirth, gravity, menopause, smoking and obesity can all wreak havoc on the vagina and, over time, can weaken the muscles of the pelvic floor (a hammock of muscles that connect from your back to your lower abs).

Here are a few signs that your pelvic floor and vaginal muscles may be weak:

• Leaking urine when you cough or sneeze
• Passing gas unintentionally
• A vaginal bulge
• A constant pressure sensation in your pelvis
• Difficulty emptying your bladder

The good news is that, like other muscles in your body, your pelvic floor and vaginal muscles can be strengthened with exercise (losing weight and stopping smoking can also help). Exercises that focus on your core muscles – like planks, squats, sit ups and lunges – engage your pelvic floor, so provide some benefit. But the most effective way to get your vagina and pelvic floor back in shape is by exercising the pelvic floor muscles themselves with Kegel exercises.

Kegels aren’t really that difficult, but the biggest problem I see with my patients is that most women haven’t learned how to do them properly. Often during exams when I ask them to Kegel, they will bear down or clench their inner thigh muscles instead. The best way to isolate the proper pelvic muscles is to Kegel while you are urinating. Start to pee, then stop and hold the urine in for 10 seconds. The muscles that you use to hold in your urine are your pelvic floor muscles. Once you have learned the proper muscles to contract, you can begin doing the Kegels throughout the day. The goal is to do 50 Kegel contractions (holding for 10 seconds each) throughout the day.

They can be done discreetly anywhere, so you can Kegel at your convenience. If you have a long commute, you might try doing yours at stop lights. Watching TV or checking social media might be another good opportunity to multitask your Kegels. And if you get bored with ordinary Kegels, you may want to take things up a notch with this device, which I wish I had invented: a Kegel video game.

You should see some improvement in your muscular tone within 6 weeks, although recovery after a vaginal birth can take up to 3 months. If you are still having difficulties with your pelvic floor after regular Kegels, then talk to your provider about a referral to a physical therapist. When I talk to my patients about getting physical therapy on their vagina they usually look at me like I’m insane. I’m sure they picture themselves in a giant therapy room working out with tiny vagina dumbbells. However, pelvic physical therapists are specially trained to work with the pelvic floor in a discreet separate room (with no tiny dumbbells), and almost every patient I’ve sent to pelvic PT has had superb results.

You may be wondering how a stronger vagina might affect your sex life. From a physiological standpoint, it makes sense that regular Kegels would help the average woman to improve her sexual response by improving blood flow and becoming more in tune with her body. In terms of actual research on the subject, though, there are surprisingly few articles on Kegels and general sexual health in women. There are few small studies that have looked at women’s sexual function after undergoing pelvic physical therapy for incontinence and prolapse, and these found that after completing pelvic PT women noted improved libido and ability to achieve orgasm. There is also good deal of data showing that pelvic PT is very helpful for women who experience painful intercourse.

If you’re experiencing symptoms of a weak pelvic floor, start incorporating Kegels into your daily routine. If after a few weeks of Kegeling you are not seeing results, talk to your provider about other possible causes of pelvic floor dysfunction or ask for a referral to a pelvic physical therapist. And if you do find one with tiny vagina dumbbells, let me know.