Sunday, May 5, 2019

    I  woke up in the middle of the night.  One of the deacon candidates came to mind.  He is an absolutely lovely man who Mike convinced to apply for the training program.  Mike told me that he was struggling with the decision to go through and be ordained.  He never told me what his considerations were, but I did hear the man speak and say that he thought Mike asked everyone to apply.  OMG, was he ever wrong!  Mike had a great deal of confidence in this man's ability.  Mike was like a talent scout with a good eye. I'm sure he approached other men to apply, but he didn't do it indiscriminately.  I finally fell asleep thinking I had to write this man in the morning to communicate what I knew about Mike's thoughts.

    I had gone to bed at 11.  I enjoyed the latest episode of DCI, thanks to Carolyn Catz's character.  I woke up at 8 am when my alarm went off.  I walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, and washed my dishes. I filled my cup with 2 cups of water and sat down to play FreeCell. Then I showered, did MELT, and used the Tiger Tail.  I got dressed and cleaned the water out of my Rainbow vacuum cleaner.  Mike used to do that for me.  If I leave it standing too long, it acts as a petri dish for some pretty disgusting bacteria.  

    Judy and Paulette picked me up for church.  When we arrived, the parking lot was empty. We had to arrive early because Paulette leads the singing and has to make some preparations.  

    Judy and I sat on a bench in front of the church. She told me that her nausea was better; she figured out how to clear it on her own using the healing protocol I showed her.  When I worked with her the other day, it didn't feel right to clear that nausea.  While I have protocols I can use for any number of situations, I don't apply them unless it 'feels right.' Sometimes that leaves me pretty helpless. I'll be working with a client and have to tell them that I know things I can do that might help, but it doesn't feel okay to apply them now.  I sit there and pray for guidance.  When I saw her the other day, we did some work on the way she felt about her nausea but nothing on the nausea herself.  I thought we would be able to finish it off later that day on the phone.  However, Judy didn't want to do the work on the phone, and due to one thing or another, we didn't see each other.  Then early Sunday morning, she just did the work of releasing the nausea herself.  I was thrilled for two reasons.  One, Judy was feeling better. Two, the method I have devised is so simple and obvious that once someone gets the basic idea, they can use it themselves.

    Today she complained that she was suffering from stomach pain.  This was new. It's understandable. The chemotherapy is stripping her bowel. I did some straight energy work with her while we sat there.  It was already better than it had been that morning; with the energy work, it disappeared – for now.

    The church filled up because there were whole families who were here as tourists.  There was one family of 6, the parents and their 4 adult daughters.  

    Fr. Lio served the mass.  The gospel for the Mass was John 21:16, where Christ asks Peter if he loves him three times. Peter's answer in English is always, "You know I love you." Fr. Lio said that in the Greek version of the bible, there are two words for love, phileo and agape.  If I remember correctly, Peter always answers using 'phileo' instead of 'agape' to express his love for Jesus.  Lio spoke about the difference between the two types of love. References to these various types of love are popping up around me about as much as news about deaths. 

    Here are my thoughts on the subject to add to the pot.  Agape love is considered more giving than phileo love; it involves sacrificing oneself. But what does that mean? Does it mean that, like Peter, we should be prepared to die for the object of our love? How many people get an opportunity to do that?

    I found a blog that defines phileo love the way I would. He says we love the other because they are like us and like us. They are familiar to us and affirm our sense of self.  Family members can do that. We extend phileo love to those who support our sense of self.  They are our 'brothers'; they are part of the same family as we are, whether that family is genetic, tribal, or ideological. 

    Agape love is defined as a willingness to sacrifice oneself.  Okay, here are my thoughts on what that means on a day to day basis.  To do that, I have to define the self.  I think of self as my self-image.  Who am I?  If someone contradicts me, they challenge that self-image. If someone makes me angry, my self-image as a good patient compassionate person is being challenged. 

    We can sacrifice ourselves physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  Some think that my devotion to Mike for the last 5 weeks of his life is an example of agape love.  Physically, I suppose I made a sacrifice.  I sat in his hospital 7 to 8 hours a day. Would Mike have slept on the floor of my hospital room? Would Mike have slept on three chairs pushed together in the bathroom?  I doubt it. I can't imagine it. But it wasn't the same order of sacrifice for me as it was for him. I'm a kid who was sent to camp.  When we went camping, we didn't have air mattresses.  I slept on the ground, shifting my body around rocks.  This was my idea of a fun challenge. My body is generally more flexible than Mike's.  If he had done what I did, it would have been a much higher order of physical sacrifice than it was for me.

    There are two ways to define mental sacrifice.  One is giving up mental stimulation.  A new mother does that; "Now, what was adult conversation?" I was spared that in several ways.  My discussions with doctors sometimes involved an overload of information.  I learned a great deal about how hospitals work, the effects of kidney disease, and pancreatitis. I also had the updates. I was not deprived of intellectual stimulation.  The second aspect of mental sacrifice is my concept of myself.  My self-concept included being by Mike's side if he got ill.  I would have felt terrible about myself if I had not been there.  Which would have been the greater sacrifice, being there or not being there? I clearly would have suffered more if I hadn't been there. 

    Now we're up to an emotional sacrifice: Where else could I have possibly been better off?  I consider myself so lucky that I was unable to go to my home because our house is on another island.  All conflict of interest was erased. My daily life didn't  pull on my emotions.  I loved being by his side. There was no sacrifice.  

    Spiritual sacrifice is the last category. I'm not sure what that would look like. I can't conceive of anything spiritual that I sacrificed by being there for those 5 weeks.  Nothing.

    It has occurred to me that the principles of self-sacrifice are the same as the principles of dealing with suffering that Mike taught Judy: acceptance, cooperation, humility, and docility.

    Acceptance of the other person and the possibly validating their point of view, or elements of their point of view. Cooperation means a willingness to engage in discussion or maybe to do the work on your own thinking about the other person's point of view.  I know I have done that a lot in my life.  I wound up in arguments with people in my head until they get through to me. Humility means never assuming I am a better person than the other person.  That the other person ceases to have value because they contradict me.  My mom couldn't tolerate any contradiction to her point of view.  When I was a child, we would have a conversation that ran like this: My mom would say, "No one thinks what you do." I would say, "I do." She would yell, "You're nobody. You're nobody." This went on until I was thirty when I finally found the words to stop her.  Before you judge my mom, she really felt if someone disagreed with her, it meant she was nobody. I was never able to help her get over this wound.

    The fourth element of the response is docility.  That means a willingness to learn from other people, to allow yourself to become a new person because of the impact of another person on you.  The people in our lives serve as our teachers. We select those with whom we have enough in common to feel comfortable, and then the fun starts. No two people are without differences.  I thought that in choosing Mike as my partner, I was determining the path of my life and my growth.  I still feel that way. Despite his arrogance, he was a wonderful teacher because he also had great respect for me.  The conflict between arrogance and respect was mostly his problem.  I knew I could always count his respect for me winning out.

    Now, being open to change has a downside. It depends upon what it is used for.  People use change as a way of escaping who they are. They change selves as they change outfits.  As Cylin said in response to one person, "Wherever you go, there you are." Those folks always become dissatisfied with the old self and then look for a new self to become. Sad.

    Self-sacrifice is sometimes the most selfish and destructive thing a person can do.  Many years ago, I met a family in a tutoring center.  I worked with this boy who had been badly abused by his birth families and was adopted by his current family while he was still in the crib.  His adoptive mother looked heroic. However, her husband and her adopted daughter looked clinically depressed.  I did a healing session with this woman.  

    When that baby boy came to her home, he was covered with bruises.  She had to work hard to help him recover.  I realized, and she agreed, that the person she was during that period of her life was her ideal. It was the person who she always wanted to be.  Problem: to be that person, she needed a damaged son. I got that she was suffering from a form of Munchausen's.  She was unconsciously making sure that the boy remained a problem so she could sacrifice for him. I had a chance to speak to the principal of the school the boy attended.  It was clear she thought the mother should be up for sainthood instead of losing custody of the boy.  I can only hope she was right. "By their fruits, you shall know them."

    When I got home, I made my miso soup and worked on the Affidavit of Collection, writing in the information that Raymond James wanted to complete the transfer of Mike's funds to my account. Once this last account is done, that phase of the financial work will be done. The next step is getting all my accounts into the Trust.  This is something Mike and I were supposed to do but didn't. Because most of our accounts were joint or I was the beneficiary of his funds, I didn't have too much trouble.  But, when I die, the transfer of funds won't be so simple if they aren't all in the Trust. This certainly hasn't been a stress-free experience.

    I made a special trip into town to drop off the Affidavit in the lawyer's mailbox.  That woman does not know how to give directions. I was left to figure out where this mailbox might be.  Since it is an office complex, I assumed there might be a bank of mailboxes.  When I couldn't see a bank, I walked up to the office door, hoping I would find a box there.  I did. 

    I went to Safeway next to buy a salad kit, cut carrots, and 2 Mrs. Meyer's lemon verbena soap.  They use the soap at the chiropractor's office. The scent permeates the place; it's delicious. 

    I went to Office Max while I was in town to Xerox the tax document from Ohio retirement.  When I got home, I worked on the blog and played FreeCell.  I texted Adam and Josh to please park the car on the street instead of the spot where Mike always parked it because it triggers me, leaving me thinking, "Mike's home.".

    I tried to nap but felt a need to check Mike's computer to see if I could find his book. Oh, boy. I found a few chapters.   I didn't find a title page or a bibliography, but he did cite his references at the bottom of each page, so the bibliography it shouldn't be too hard to construct. However, I have no idea how many chapters there are or what I'm looking for.  I emailed Dave Kane, one of the deacons Mike sent the book to for feedback, asking him if he would send me his hard copy.  I checked my email every two minutes looking for a response. When I didn't hear from him, I was afraid he had thrown the book out after finishing it.   I must like driving myself crazy. 

    I had called Damon earlier, and he called me back.  I told him that the person who had counseled Joanna at Damon and Cylin's wedding into not breaking up with her Mike was Jean.  Jean had coincidentally told me the story when I told her a story about one of Damon's other friends and his wife.  Joanna had been frustrated because Mike wasn't popping the question. Jean told her to hang on. Mike and Joanna have been happily married for years and have three beautiful children. It was a good move, waiting on Joanna's part and asking her to marry him on Mike's part.

    I told Damon about the research on the placebo effect of surgery, particularly on knees.  Damon has had 5 (five) knee surgeries.  The first one was when he was in college.  He was playing soccer, and his knee locked.  I remember him sitting with his leg sticking straight out and being at the surgery center when he had the operation.  It was a little outpatient job. He regrets the next 4 surgeries. I may have said something to him at some point, never being an advocate of surgical solutions unless absolutely necessary, but  I doubt he listened to me any more than his dad did.  Mike loved board-certified experts.  Logic, when it came to medical practice, was not his thing, despite living with me for all those years. Each to his own.  

    Josh came up to fix my Square access.  He knew what to do when it called for doing something to attach a microphone. Huh?  While he was up here, I gave him copies of documents from Genworth, my long-term health care insurer.   Since I don't have to pay premiums anymore, there would be no paperwork around to indicate that I had that insurance at the point I might need home care.   Besides giving Josh a copy to file away, I am sending copies to Damon and Karin. 

    I did some more work on the blog and sent out two entries. Yeah, for me.

    Elsa finally lost that lovely pink and orange flower the groomer put in her hair.  I tried to put it back in, but she wouldn't have it. I walked Elsa, played some FreeCell, had a dinner of salad, and another serving of the chicken and broccoli prepared dish. I finished off dinner with a Hersey's Milk Chocolate bar with whole almonds. 

    I watched TV, cataloged some books, and sent Genworth paperwork to Damon.  When I looked up Karin's address, I found some extra numbers that didn't make sense.  I needed to check Karin's address tomorrow. 

    I walked Elsa, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

Saturday, May 4, 2019

    I was up at 7 today. On Saturday's the Bikram class starts at 8:30. I walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, washed the dishes, boiled 2 pots of water for my weeds, and downed two 2 cups of water for me. 

    I got to yoga early enough to get my spot. I have a place that most people honor. I joke my body outline should be marked with chalk.  No, it's not really my spot, but it's the one I like best.  When the class started 10 minutes later, it had filled up. There were 25 people. Whoa! I worked on JJ recommendations.  A biggie is a change in my breathing, pushing my upper chest up while pushing my shoulders down without arching my back rather than my lower ribs out to get more breath.

    When I got home, Mike's car was sitting in the driveway. It was a trigger. My heart!  I looked forward to greeting him. After thinking about it for a while, I found a solution. I'm going to ask Josh and Adam to park the car in the street instead of in Mike's usual spot. 

    I worked on the blog putting out two entries. Then it was nap time.  I do love my naps. I convert my love seat sofa into an antigravity chair using throw pillows on both armrests.  I get some of my deepest sleep there. In this case, I couldn't fall asleep, very unusual for me.  

    Jean Ross called because she read that I'm beginning to feel the sadness. God bless her, she is continuing to read my blog regularly because it helps her know how I am and makes her feel closer to me. Fortunately, we also talk more frequently so I can also feel closer to her.  

    Jean is a very busy lady.  She had championed the needs and the rights of the marginalized in the mental health system when she was working, and now that she is retired, in the prison system.  She said that reading about all that I'm doing gives her confidence that she won't turn into a beached blob if she stops working altogether.  

    Writing about what I do every day has several benefits.  First, It helps me feel in contact with other people, even if no one reads it. That others are actually reading it, and many are looking forward to my postings, is a delightful surprise.  Second, it gives me something to do every day.  It takes time to write all this.  Could I be doing other things? Yes, but this has a pleasing side effect: it keeps me focused on what I do in every minute of the day.  It keeps me in the moment; it keeps me from thinking of what life once was or what life might have been if  . . . . .   

    When I was in my twenties, I had a period of depression. It wasn't a clinical depression, but boy, I felt lousy. It felt like I was moving through molasses and getting nothing done.  I started writing down everything I did. "I got out of bed, I showered, I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, I made a cup of coffee,  I drank it, I smoked a cigarette, I washed two dishes." Sound familiar?  This simple activity pulled me out fairly quickly.  Sometimes, I felt so empty that it was essential to break down tasks to details, sort of writing out the details of the recipe instead of just saying 'I cooked chicken Florentine." 

    Jean and I also talked about DCI Banks.  The show has improved since Carolyn Catz's character came on.  She is a much stronger, clearer, less emotionally confusing character.

    Jean has made several references to the passionate nature of Mike's and my relationship.  I think we were passionate about loving each other rather than passionate about each other, which resulted in our being passionate about each other. There is a difference.  One is dependent on mood; the other is a commitment, a plan of action. 

    I had a commitment to make positive comments to people in general, to tell people things about them, or what they did that pleased me, brought me delight or joy. This was a response to my mother's deep commitment to never saying anything positive. I've written about her position on this before.  She literally, and I do mean literally, felt that she could harm me by saying something positive about me to me. (Apparently, she was known to say positive things about me behind my back. And there is that one occasion when she felt so overwhelmed about her gratitude to me, that she had to tell me – even though she knew she was doing me harm. Go figure. She was born in 1903 in Germany. I'm told that there was some cultural basis for her position, but she carried it to a penultimate absurdity.) 

    Mike and I also had a commitment to showing each other affection. Another thing which my mother found a complete abomination. I can remember reaching up to kiss her as a child and her pushing me away with disgust.  I think she associated all forms of physical contact with sex. Yuck! Might have been appropriate if that were the case, but I was four.

    Back to Mike and me:  We were both raised by mothers, who, for their own reasons, were committed to telling us we were terrible people. Mike and I were determined to giving positive feedback.  Some people praise others for the other person's sake; or express love for the other person's sake, to make the other person feel good. I do it primarily because it makes me feel good. 

    I don't know about Mike, but I express praise to others for my sake. My behavior may have started as a commitment to be kind to others, to be nothing like my mother.  But the result was unexpected.  I developed a greater appreciation of others, and praise would more easily blossom out of my breast, and I allowed it to pass through my lips and say the accompanying words.  I discovered this felt great.  I try only to give praise when it genuinely arises in me. People know the difference between false praise and a person's genuine pleasure with another person or something they have done. Not that I don't sometimes fake it. 

    It isn't only German culture that thinks praising people is pointless.  It is part of American culture too.  It isn't only German culture that thinks expressing affection openly to another adult, and I don't mean culturally approved affectionate greetings, but an affection that bursts through your heart.  You know, the kind of affection that we are allowed to express to young children and pets freely.  I think some people have children for this purpose alone because they believe it is the only way to be a genuinely loving person. What a shame! That phase of childhood is short-lived. If you can share it with your partner, it goes on as long as you both shall live. 

    Now, this does not mean that I didn't find failings in Mike or any other human being.  I am as sensitive to what I don't like as I am to what I do like. When I met Mike, I didn't think he was perfect, I don't think I even thought he was wonderful.  I thought, "I think I can live with this man just the way he is for the rest of my life." I wasn't madly in love; the relationship just felt 'right.' I knew I belonged with him. That was a good starting place.  

    As it wound up, if I had really known who he was, I might not have been so glib about it. But by the time I found out about the reality, there was something I really, really detested, I was in deep.  The thing I discovered is that when he made sarcastic, demeaning comments about and to other people, he wasn't' kidding. Really?  OMG!  He would say to me, calmly and in jest, "What does your little, measly heart want?" Now that sounded funny to me at the time.  Little did I know that there was an element of honesty in his comment.  He was seriously demeaning me. How do I know? Because he told me so long after the fact, and how badly he felt about saying those things to me.

    Now, in all fairness, I found his arrogance attractive and admitted that to myself.  It was familiar.  My father was an arrogant man while being gentle and considerate and deeply interested in others.  Go figure? How do you put that all together?  I don't know if I would have left Mike if I had really understood how pernicious his arrogance was in the beginning.  But once I realized, I started responding critically.  He would argue that he had a right to his opinion.  I told him absolutely, but not how he expressed is.  He could say I don't like or I don't agree; he couldn't say someone else's opinion was stupid or some other critical term like that.  I think his dad used to be like that.  Now, he didn't manifest arrogance in every moment of our interactions. He had a deep respect for me and my rights within the marriage.  Decisions were made jointly.  There were times when his old attitudes would creep in.

    Two years ago, I pushed for getting solar panels.  Mike argued there was no point, they would never amortize in our lifetime.   To begin with, we have money because my mom left it to me. That makes our happy financial cushion mine.  I happily supported him getting his library, for his 3,000 books, and the kitchen he wanted because he wanted it. It gave me joy for him to get these dreams of his fulfilled.  I finally asked him, "How well do you think your library and kitchen will amortize?" He married me because I was his worthy opponent.  I had complete respect for his point of view but was prepared to fight or mine.  We were both prepared to listen to the other's opinion and change our minds. 

    We also both had a commitment to change in general.  We met in group therapy.  What else can I say? Also, it has been my experience that people who are not interested in making changes in themselves avoid me like the plague. That's just an observation.  I used to push people to change; I don't do that anymore, but it doesn't make much difference.  I represent introspection and working to make life better for myself and others by changing myself. Change can be uncomfortable.  It is always unfamiliar. Some people would literally rather be dead than experience a shift from what they already know or look deeply into themselves.

    Today,  JJ, the yoga teacher, was talking about using yoga to make changes in our bodies.  He said that if we are making real changes, we will find a posture somewhat uncomfortable.  If you want to change, you can't avoid discomfort. 

    Back to our passionate relationship: I know of a woman who once said that she thought all her husband wanted was for her to smile at him.  You think?  She was committed to not giving him that or anyone else.  I think she thinks there's something immoral about smiling at people. It's invasive, perhaps even predatory. I'm not sure why someone would take such a position. 

Conversely, Mike and I made a commitment to have greeting and departure rituals that involved hugging and kissing each other.  Was this always spontaneous or natural? Don't be silly.  Sometimes we just acted as if until it was.

    I mentioned before there was a prolonged dry period in our relationship. I'm not sure why it happened or why we didn't seek professional help.  I remember it never occurred to me to do so.  We both, independently, considered leaving the relationship. What kept us put was that we thought the other person was a really good person, and we had nowhere else to go. The backbone of our relationship was the sincere belief that the other person was a good person or intended to become better. The dry spell broke.   Our affectionate behavior became utterly genuine.  

    I walked Elsa, ate dinner while watching DCI Banks, and cataloged some more books. I'm moving along.  Getting rid of the books will get all done faster than I thought. Then the catalog will be sent out to seminaries, the one in New Orleans first. When they request books, I'm going to have to find them. That is going to be another trip and a half. Mike's books are somewhat organized, but it's not like a professional library.  How many years will this all take?  Someday, all the books will be gone, and I will have to decide what I'm going to do with that room.  I am not looking forward to that emptiness. 

    I took Elsa for the final walk of the evening, washed my face, brushed my teeth and went to bed. I said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Friday, May 3, 2019

    I went to bed at 11, setting the alarm for 8. I wasn't going to the regular 7:30 yoga class. Today, I had JJ's small group instruction at 9:30.

    I finally called my Microsoft support service.  They have called me repeatedly to tell me that my computer needs to be updated.  Now this group is licensed by Microsoft to provide assistance,  but it is not actually Microsoft. My Word service ran out while Mike was in the hospital a year ago when they first discovered he had serious kidney disease. He wasn't on dialysis yet; they were trying to figure out why he had kidney failure.  He had none of the usual causes.  

    While sitting in the hospital room with him, my Word stopped working. I was told to call a specific number, which I did.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I have to say it seems to have worked out all right.  I bought a lifetime license to use Microsoft Word, and they tracked me down when I needed service.  

    In March, they called. I told them my husband had died and couldn't deal with my computer at this point. They called again yesterday.  I finally called them back.  They took over my computer and did something with it.  Hope they know what they're doing. It took almost 2 hours to do the work. In the end, they told me I had to renew my service contract.  It had expired a while back, but they had extended the service because I had told them Mike had died. I'll let you know if there is a problem with identity thief.

      While they were working remotely on the computer, I vacuumed the lanai carpet, getting up stains.  Think I found another pee spot.  This girl doesn't tell me when she has to go out.  If I go to the bathroom, she'll follow me in and stand by the door to the back lanai. That's the only way I know. Fortunately, I go to the bathroom frequently. 

    I want to sing the praises of my vacuum cleaner. I love it for washing floors. It's a Rainbow vacuum cleaner; it functions as a wet/dry vac, which may or may not do the same job.  I doubt it because the suction on the Rainbow is pretty impressive. I use it to wash my white tile floors. I pour water on the floor and vacuum it up with the floor attachment.  The white grout is white because the dirty water doesn't sit there. What I have discovered recently is if I pour water on the carpet and suck it up with the furniture attachment, I get a fantastic amount of dirt out.

    I tried to contact Square.  Josh helped me get the app on my phone. Yvette tried to help me set it up but was flummoxed by the steps.  I called customer support.  I need a verification number. Can't figure out how to get that. I can't call customer support without it. Now what?

    I organized the papers I was going to need today. I had to Xerox documents for Yvette, Damon, and Karin from Genworth, providing an amendment to my contract with the company saying that I was entitled to over 600,000 in long-term care and didn't have to pay any more premiums because we had purchased survivorship benefits. I also grabbed the POA from the Estate planning booklet and a few more copies of the Affidavit of Collection to Xerox because they may suffice with the credit card companies.

    I am thinking about Mike more in a conscious, deliberate way. I talk to him a lot. He is watching over me, at least I prefer to think so. He's concerned about my driving and about my food intake.  I assure him I'm eating well enough to maintain my health. Stop worrying.  He did that a lot when he was alive.

    I am thinking more about getting the book he was writing together for publication. Besides worrying about a title, I do hope he completed the bibliography.  If he didn't, I'm screwed. There is no way I can figure all that out.   I wrote the rector of the seminary, asking if he knew of anyone who'd be interested in helping me with getting it published. No answer.  I don't know quite what that means, but I have decided to call the seminary receptionist and put out an APB.  Maybe one of the teachers there who worked with him would be willing to help me. But before I do that, I better see what I have to work with.  Is there a title?  Is there a bibliography?

     The small group yoga class with JJ started at 9:30 and was supposed to end at 11.  He showed each of us how to make minor adaptations.  I was good for the first half of the class.  I thought he was only going to cover 1/3 of the asanas, but no, he planned to go through all twenty-six postures. After an hour, he said any questions.  I said, "Can I go home?" I had had enough, physically, and mentally.  I thought I would just lie there and absorb.  What I absorbed was sleep.  I must have needed it. Looking forward to incorporating the instructions I could use in my practice. I learned to use my upper chest more for breathing. I've always been an abdominal breather.  I was also using my back and my side muscles; I'm weak in using my upper chest. It made an immediate difference in my shoulders. All the suggestions he made I can use. I was looking forward to the changes in my body.

    Christa, the studio owner, was there with her 3-year-old son, Miles. She invited me to lunch.  She asked me where  I wanted to go. "Your house because I would love to see what you do with your house, given what you have done with the studio." She said her house looks nothing like the studio, and I would be disappointed. I'm not expecting it to look like the studio, but  I was hoping to see evidence of her eye for decoration.  Unless she treats her home as one of the shoemakers' children, there will be something that will delight my eye.

    My first stop was the parish office to drop off frying pans, and other cooking implements that I had already decided to get rid of.  When I was there the other day dropping off Zola's dishes, Cynthia told me about this woman who had recently left her husband, moved into a house, and had nothing. I thought maybe she can come to take a look through the pantry.  I hate to throw it all out, but I will never use Mike's full food stock. I haven't done anything with it yet. Brenda said, 'Throw it all out. If you give it to someone, you risk legal problems if someone gets sick.' Oh, well, I don't like to throw out anything.

    Off to the bank to deposit the refund check from Genworth, my long term care insurer. The teller had to check with her superior.  You won't believe how complex this all was and how long it took just to deposit a check.  I even already had the deposit slip filled out, and the check endorsed.  The problem was that it was over a certain amount.  I said, "I just want to deposit it." She finally told me it would take 3 days for the check to clear because it was from the mainland and so large. Huh? Doesn't it always take 3 days for a check to clear?  I guess not.  With electronic improvements, everything can happen instantly.  They printed out a document for me that said that only $200 was available immediately.  Okay. 

    I went home, showered, did MELT and used the Tiger Tail, boiled more pots of water for the weeds, and edited a blog post getting it ready to send it out.  I tried to call Square. Same problem.  I followed directions for getting the verification code, but I couldn't figure it out. I need help from customer support, but can't get the help I need. Hmmm! 

    My 3 o'clock client texted to ask for a later time. I told him that wouldn't work for me because  I was going to hula practice at 4:30.  I went down for a nap and woke up at 5:30. So much for hula practice.

    Yvette came up to use the dryer.  I cried out, "I'm on the pot." She said, "I'll be right in." I replied, "I think I can still handle this on my own." Who knows how long I'll be able to say that.  She dipped into my chocolate stash. I'm not overeating but gaining weight. Any guesses why?

    I walked Elsa came home and worked on notes for today's blog.  I watched DCI Banks, ate dinner, and cataloged some books.   I took Elsa for the final walk of the evening, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. I said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Thursday, May 2, 2019

    I went to bed at 9 pm, and I was still tired when I got up at 6. I walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, washed my dishes, drank most of two cups of water, and took off for Bikram. Before the class started, I lay on the floor, tightening my right thigh muscle.  It resulted in an adjustment to my back.  Toward the end of the class, JJ came up and straightened me out. I was lying on my belly, and my legs were way over to my right. This is interesting. When the chiropractor straightens me out, she usually has to move my legs from the left over to my right.  This little change is creating some major ones.

    When I got home, I washed my Bikram clothes, showered, did MELT, and used the Tiger Tail.  I made my morning soup and was ready when Shelly, my therapist, called. My concern for the day was my anger toward one of my students for not performing the way I want her to. If I feel I am angry with a student or a client, I consider it my job to work with my therapist to resolve it. I assumed that I was angry because she was disappointing me, making me look bad. This student has had an unusually difficult childhood and is living with someone other than her parents.  The image that came up is that she is provoking anger because that is what she is familiar with. This would not be conscious, assuming it is true.  This would be something unconscious that doesn't even clearly show up in her behavior.  Whether she is provoking this anger, or it is a result of my ego being wounded by not being as successful with her as I thought I would be, I am the one who has to resolve it.  I am the professional, and in this case; I am also the adult in the relationship. All the responsibility falls on me.  There must be something in me that is responding to her provocations. At the end of the session, my anger was much reduced, although there is still a small knot in my stomach.  This will take additional work. 

    I took a long nap afterward.  I was, and frequently am,  exhausted. I only napped for two hours but thought I could sleep for the next 24. I got up and worked on the blog and played FreeCell, and texted two clients, asking if they wanted to make appointments. 

    I got an email from Raymond James with the information on what to do with the Affidavit of Collection so they can use it. My lawyer has to make a slight change, but I will be able to avoid probate. Now let's see how the credit card companies deal with this situation. Are they going to demand that I go to probate to collect Mike's bonus points? If so, I'll rack it up to a learning experience.  I hope it helps others from making the same mistake.

    Judy texted. She was driving up to the doctor's today to have her pump removed. She also had a lousy day, exhausted and suffering from stomach cramps.  Wow! This chemotherapy stuff sucks.

    I don't know why I'm so tired. I think I'm getting enough nutrition. Yes, I'm eating less, but I'm getting eating a lot of greens, mostly salad, seeds, nuts,  some cheese, some meat each night, and of course, something sweet. Wouldn't want to skip something sweet.

     I walked Elsa and picked up the mail when I got home.  The brewer's yeast I ordered arrived. I have it shipped to Dorothy from the Wellness Forum in Columbus, and she mails it to me by US mail. If Wellness Forum were to send it to me directly through UPS, it would cost $50.  Shipping it to Dorothy in New Jersey costs $5. Then it costs an additional $8 for Dorothy to send it to me through the post office.  I repay the money but not for her effort on my behalf except to say thank you. 

    There were two letters from Genworth in the mail tonight, too.  One was a check for $3,227.27.  Mike and I got survivorship benefits with the insurance. Good move.  I don't remember being given a choice. I thought it was just part of the package.  The survivorship benefit means that once one of us either required long term care or died, the other one of us would no longer have to pay premiums to hold the insurance.  I always pay for everything by the largest sum possible.  Mike would have paid it monthly; I paid it annually. I sent a payment of $5,432.00 last October.  The premiums just went up this year, again.  Mike and I talked about accepting lesser coverage but decided to bite the bullet and pay the increased premium.  The $3,227.27 refund covers the balance of our coverage for the year.  

    There also was a book I don't remember ordering in the mail, Private Government. I have no idea why I ordered it. I probably saw in written up in the Book Review section of the NY Times and decided to get it. We'll see if it has any meaning for me when I get around to reading it.

    I made my smoothie for tomorrow while listening to the Hidden Brain on NPR. The topic was the placebo effect, a subject close to my heart. As a healer and as someone who helps people heal both physical and psychological problems by having the conscious and nonconscious minds communicate with each other, I think the placebo effect is highly relevant. The traditional research involves tricking the nonconscious mind into believing something. My method uses direct and truthful communication. No tricks are played on the conscious mind. 

    The research they discussed was particularly interesting to me. It was on the placebo effects of surgery.  As I remember, they only did this experiment on knee surgery- not knee replacement, though. Someone finally noticed that while medications are checked for viability, surgery is not. All improvements as a result of the operation compare the current procedure to previous procedures, but there is no research on the effectiveness of the procedure itself versus a placebo.  What does placebo surgery look like?  They must have done enough of an incision to make it believable or just bandaged the knee to make it look believable.  I don't remember what they said on that subject.  The doctor said he didn't know if he was going to do a placebo procedure or actual surgery until he walked into the room.  He wound up doing a mock procedure, which took the same amount of time as the actual surgery; he went through the motions.  The outcome for the placebo surgery was statistically significant. 

    As some of you may know, I am a candidate for total hip replacement. I have refused surgery because I am not in pain. At this point, there are no limitations on my walking.  I can keep pace with anyone else my age; no, I am not up for running the Bostom Marathon if that is your criterion. I do have trouble bending the left leg at the hip.  Up down motions, like sitting and standing up again, are somewhat of a problem.  The doctors told me that I would experience increased limitations over time. That has not happened.  I have been questioning why the surgery is effective.  There are so many things that go on during operation, which part of it relieves pain, which parts of the body are modified, so there is a greater range of movement?     

    I walked Elsa. For dinner, I had a large salad and the rest of the frozen wontons I got sick and tired of eating a while ago. I watched TV and cataloged some books.  

     I took Elsa for the final walk of the evening, washed my face, brushed my teeth and went to bed. I said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

    Cylin's birthday!!!! I went to bed before 10 and slept well till 5:30. I stayed in bed till right before 6 when my alarm went off. I walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, made my smoothie, washed my dishes, boiled two pots of water for the weeds. I have tons of weeds.

    During Bikram,  I worked on tightening my right thigh muscle. When I tightened it enough, my glutes and then my abdominals tightened.  The changed alignment puts a lot of pressure on my injured inner left thigh muscles. But even those muscles must be getting better because I could never have raised my right hip as I am doing now without being in screaming pain. Now, it hurts a bit, but look at the difference in my alignment. 

    On the way home from Bikram, I stopped to get gas from Costco before the store opened.  The lines are always much shorter then. While I was waiting for my turn at the pump, I called Cylin and sang her 'Happy Birthday.' This is the second time I have sung it to someone without Mike singing with me.  Mike couldn't sing.  When he was on the altar, Fr. Lio would tell Mike to turn off his microphone.  He was reliably off key.  To accommodate his lousy singing, we developed this way of singing which was deliberately off key. Cylin calls it  off-key warbling.   

    I went to Costco to pick up a salad and dried apricots. I called Cylin again, still no answer. I told her I was planning to sing it while I was walking in the store. Thought she would enjoy the image of me caterwauling in a public space.

    When I got home, I took care of the garbage first.  Yvette came up and put a load in the washing machine.  I threw my Bikram clothes in with hers. Later in the day, she came up to help me set up the Square app.  Josh showed me how to download it but didn't know how to set it up.  We hit snags in the process that Yvette was unfamiliar with and gave up.  I figured I'd call Square customer support to figure it out.  I took my shower, did MELT and used the Tiger Tail. I got dressed.

      I emailed Raymond James to ask for the legal department's decision on the Affidavit of Collection.  Would it suffice or would I have to go to probate? I hadn't read the emails in my inbox before I sent it out. When I did look, there was the information from Raymond James, sent out this morning before I sent out my request.  Yes, they could accept the Affidavit of Collection, but it had to be modified. I sent them an email asking how this was going to get done. Were they going to make a change in the document or did I have to have my lawyer do it? Also, what was the number of the account in question?

    I had an appointment with Petco to have Elsa groomed.  I was to drop her off at 12. I walked around the house reminding myself to take Elsa with me when I went to town. Worst-case scenario I would have wound up at Petco without Elsa. 

    Right after I dropped off the girl for her beauty treatment, I went to Office Max next door to Xerox the tax form from State Teacher's Retirement Pension fund for  Social Security. Once my marriage certificate arrives, either from the other Social Security department or from Princeton, I can send in the necessary paperwork to Social Security to start collecting my widow's benefits. 

    I stopped off at the bank to deposit some checks and get a $100 bill changed into 20s so I could pay JJ on Friday when I had the small group class. Then I went to the church where I knew Zola would be to return the food containers she left at my house.  Some of them were glass.  I wanted to make sure got them to her before I broke one. The 12 o'clock mass was over, but Zola and several other women were there doing an adoration. These women are so welcoming to me. I talked a little bit about Mike, my sadness over his suffering and my continued amusement about that time he told me to cut the bibble babble and laughed. Such a joyous moment. 

    I went to the parish office to say hello.  I had asked Brenda to come over to my house for dinner.  She said that I wanted her to cook for me.  I told her no, it was because I so enjoyed our shared laughter when they visited the last time. Cynthia was there and happened to talk about a young woman she knew who had recently separated from her partner and baby father and needed everything. I said that I had cooking utensils at home.  I would bring them in. Susan mentioned that there was hula practice on Friday. She had just heard.  Fr. Badding was celebrating his 50th anniversary as a priest with a mass and dinner on May 6. and requested a hula to a specific song. 

    I'm plowing through CS Lewis's Mere Christianity.  I remember enjoying some of his other books that I read years ago. Some insights have been helpful, but I am finding some of his arguments weak, ineffective.

    I spoke to Judy. While she is certainly not feeling better, she reports feeling more relaxed as a result of the work we did.  We had not had a chance to work specifically on the nausea yet.

    I made two stops before I went home. The first was at Island Naturals, our local health food store. I picked up pumpkin seeds, dried cranberries, flax seeds and progesterone for my hot flashes. I've had them now for 28 ½ years. My first one was on March 18, 1991, at 5 pm as on the front lawn as Mike and I were approaching the car to drive into NYC for Barbara Kutner's 50th birthday party. In the beginning, I had 100 a day.  I timed the;. I had a surge every fifteen minutes.  Oh, that was so much fun. I'm so used to them now. Unless they're bad, I don't even notice.

    I stopped off at Costco to pick up a package of their great salads. As I wandered around, I came across an aisle with dried fruit.  When I got home from Oahu, I found a package of dried apricots and was enjoying them.  I picked up another bag.

     When I got home, I looked for Elsa. Oh, yes. She's not home; she's getting groomed at Petco.  Another family member that I have trouble understanding is not here. 

    I worked on the blog. I was expecting a healing telephone appointment at 2. I got a text at 2 saying, "5 minutes?" That was fine with me. I was engrossed in writing and figured he would call when he was ready.  After a ½ hour I looked up. Five minutes?  I called him.  He said he didn't hear back from me, so he went about his business.  He was not able to speak to me at that moment.  I told him to call when he got to where he was going.  In the meantime, I continued working on the blog. During the telephone session, Petco called. My Elsa dog was ready.

    I drove down and picked her up. Gorgeous. Mike would have taken so much pleasure in how pretty she looked. She brought him much joy. The groomer put a pink and orange flower with two small pearls in the center in her hair to match her pink collar and her orange tag. I drove home with her on my lap. She's pretty good; she doesn't run around the car or try to get under my feet. She's happy on my lap. 

    When we got home, we went for our before dinner walk.  I did some more work on the blog.  I had two long entries to work on. I also looked up what submitting Mike's manuscript to the Paulist Press would entail.  I got stopped at, "Title of Book." I don't know that he had a title yet. Also, it asks for a book proposal.  This book is already written.  I feel skeptical that I can get Paulist Press to publish the book. If not, I plan to put it on Amazon.  I will have contact with the people who might be interested in it.  Mike wouldn't like it on Amazon. I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal.  I don't seek the approval of the powers that be.  Mike was quite different. I hope he will forgive me if I'm not successful through with  Paulist Press.

     I ate dinner, still finishing up the leftovers from Easter. Yes, they are still good.  I always smell them first, and I haven't had any bad effects. However, I did decide to throw out what was still left over after I ate dinner tonight.  I watched some TV and cataloged some books. I took Elsa for the final walk of the evening.  I went to bed, and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

    I was still tired when the alarm went off this morning at 6:00, even though I was in bed by 9:30 last night. I hit the snooze button and considered not going to Bikram.  I had two other appointments today, so I had an excuse.  I got up after I hit the snooze button for the second time. I made sure to put on my new pedometer.   It is 1200 steps from my house to the end of the street and back.  Since I wear the pedometer all day, I'm sure I do more than 4,000 steps a day.  I noticed that I was not missing Mike as I walked.  I almost feel that I was so comfortable with him, and he became so much a part of me that I can't conceive of him not being around.  It sounds a little like the same thing I felt when my mom told me my dad was dead when I was 15. I thought, "He can't be dead. I'm still breathing."

    I'm also thinking I can still feel good about myself because he did something to affirm me every day.  I don't actually hear his voice saying, "You're so pretty," and "I love you." But that feeling of being enjoyed stays with me. I figure if I can still hear my mother's voice criticizing me and putting me down after all these years, why shouldn't I hear Mike's voice praising me?  But I don't hear the words. I'm just left with the feeling, the afterglow, which comes when someone smiles at you with unrestrained pleasure.  

    I continued working on relaxing the left hip in Bikram. Concentrating on this means there are things I used to be able to do I can't now.  Once I get my hip correctly aligned, then I will discover what my range of motion is from this new perspective. It's a gradual unwinding. 

    During class, JJ crouched down beside me. I expected him to say something. I looked at him expectedly.  He said, "You just do your thing, and I'll do mine." As  I worked, he pushed the tissue of my right thigh up.  This caused me to contact those thigh muscles as I hadn't before. I felt my abs tighten up, and my spinal curvature change dramatically. OMG, my whole posture changed. It is incredible how a small change can create such a big one.

    JJ came out to the car as I was packing up my car to ask me if I would be interested in participating in a private class on Friday from 9:30-11. You better believe I would!  He is the most fantastic teacher.  I can't wait to hear what his insights are. He has told me in the past that he is aware of the way I work.  I suggested to him that he point this out to the other students in the class.  While many come up to me and tell me that I'm an inspiration, I think they are only thinking of my stick-to-itness.  They think of me as an old lady with a handicap who keeps on coming. They are not aware of how carefully I work, how precisely. I have objectives. He walked back into the studio, turned around to tell me that like me, his grandmother loved Hersey's Milk Chocolate bars with whole almonds.  Wow! He's still reading the blog.  

    I went to Safeway after Bikram.  I needed more salad and didn't have time to wait for Costco to open at 10 to do my shopping there.  I bought a bean soup and an apple.  Of course, I checked to see if the Hersey bars were still on sale. Sadly, no. 

    Driving home, I thought of the files sitting on Mike's desk in his desktop file rack.  I could use the stand to organize my work, but the idea of throwing out his work is just too much for me. When I think of doing that, grief hits.  Will I really never be able to tell him again how much I love him, tell him I love him so much it's silly, or that the best part about him is he's mine and see that grin of pleasure on his face?

    I read something in NY Times last night about people dressing up like puppies so they can behave in openly affectionate ways.  Apparently, it is prominent in the gay male community.  How sad that anyone needs to pose as another species to have an excuse to be childishly affectionate. I'm the one who said the silly stuff, Mike didn't do that. But it was clear that he loved having me behave that way.  I guess it's a man thing. 

    I went home, showered, washed my Bikram stuff,  and got myself ready for my 11 o'clock healing appointment.  I actually forgot to do MELT and use the Tiger Tail.  While waiting, I took pictures of my driver's license and the address part of a document to prove my residence for the Princeton Health Department to secure my marriage Certificate.  I tried to download the pictures into the application form.  The whole thing disappeared.  When I went to start again, it wouldn't allow me access. I had no way of finding what I had done.  I gave up, printed out the application form, and the two photographs and put it in the hard mail. It's done. Hopefully, this is good enough. Yes, I remembered to put a check in the envelope, too. It's interesting, I don't feel "why me?" when it comes to the tragedy of losing Mike; why not me? But these technical problems do evoke my self-pity.

    My 11 o'clock appointment didn't answer.  My first concern is for my client's welfare. He's in his twenties. I have to consider that for him, just not answering is answering.

     I got busy with domestic chores.  Since I am at home, I am never at a loss for something to do.  I took out the recycling and heated up at least 3 more pots of water for my weeds.  They really got out of hand. Our growing season is 12 months, but I see a difference between how the weeds grow in the 'winter' versus how they grow in the 'spring.' Trust me, those seasons exist here, but they look nothing like they look in New Jersey or Ohio.

    I've been getting notifications from Apple that my credit card wasn't viable anymore. I 

couldn't figure out why, nor did I know my password or how to reset it. I tried to fix it on my computer.  I finally followed the prompts on my phone. It listed the credit card as expired.  I figured out how to update it. Done.

    My tutoring student arrived.  I see improvement in her word attack skills; she is decoding multi-syllable words with much greater ease.  I also see she is willing to stick with a word she doesn't know and figure it out.  She doesn't just look at a word and immediately say, I don't know.

    She has responded well to the comprehension activity I do with her focusing on deconstructing each sentence and how each sentence relates to every other sentence in a paragraph.  Her teachers at school have her reading on a low first-grade level.  My first thought was that this is too low for her, but I have learned she doesn't do well on the comprehension activities, even at this low level.  I have no idea why. Her aunt is going to have her teacher call me.  I am hoping to have access to her reading exercises so I can figure out what she is doing wrong.  I don't believe it is because she has trouble with word recognition skills. In the meantime, I will continue working at a higher level, so she has exposure to grade-level vocabulary and sentence structure. 

    I worked on the blog. I walked Elsa and called Judy while walking.  I called my friend about her grandson, who was my 11 o'clock no show. I wanted to know that he was all right.  I did consider that he was just of the new generation and letting me know he didn't want to or couldn't keep his appointment was not on his agenda. He had told her he found the session interesting and was looking forward to our Tuesday session. Why didn't he call? I'm still a little worried about the boy.

    Mike got his bill a from Kaiser for 2019. The total bill was $589,479.13; our share was $3,400. Mike and I love the Kaiser health plan. It's the best medical coverage we've ever had.  We also found the service excellent.

     I did more work on the blog and took Elsa for the final walk of the evening.  I went to bed and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Monday, April 29, 2019

    While I set the alarm for 6, I woke up at 5:30. It's the season when the birds start their workday early. It's something to do with the sun. As I walked Elsa, I continued working on relaxing my left hip.

    I called the Princeton Health Department to follow up on the proof I need to get the marriage certificate.  I called sometime last week and was told that the person responsible was on jury duty and would only be in on Mondays and Fridays.  Today, I got the registrar and asked her if the signed scroll from my wedding would do as proof we were married.  She had no idea what I was talking about. Her reaction was pretty much the same as everyone else's. "Huh?" She said all I needed was a copy of my driver's license and one other document with my name and address on it. Da-da-da-da. Da-da-da-da.  

    I'm pretty sure I didn't dream that exchange with someone from Princeton.  I remember the clerk asking if I had anything from the venue and not even knowing what she was talking about. The best explanation I can come up with, other than a psychotic break, is that I spoke to someone other than the official registrar, and she made it up as she went along. The application is for more than a marriage certificate. It is also for birth certificates and certificates of adoption. My guess is parents do have to prove their relationship to the child for whom they are requesting a birth certificate. The proof I needed was that I knew the name of my husband and the date of our marriage.  I had that covered.

    I made my Juice Plus smoothie and boiled two pots of water for my creeping weeds. I drank two cups of water and went to Bikram. I'm still focusing on relaxing my left hip.

    I had a 9:30 chiropractic appointment. The yoga class ended at 9. I rushed into the rinse shower, leaving my mat and walker in the studio, got into the dressing room to get my wet yoga clothes off, and with a towel wrapped around my body, went back into the room to get my equipment. 

    I wound up getting to the chiropractor's office early; I sat in the car and called Judy. No answer. I  got a call from Melissa, who said she was going to put an article on the fMRI that I might find interesting in my mailbox. She knew I was interested in the correlation between blood flow and brain use. I told her that I had audited classes in neuroscience at Princeton University, but welcomed her article. Auditing a few classes did not make me an expert. With everything I read, I learn something new. 

    Kim worked on my upper body as Yvette had the night before.  She did something new. She had me sit on the table, put my arms behind me, and grab the edge of the table. Then she did Graston on my pectoral muscles. All the tension in my shoulders melted. 

    At home, I threw my Bikram stuff and Yvette's into the washing machine.  When I went out to the lanai, I discovered that Elsa had pooped.  I don't get it, I had just walked her an hour ago. She pooped then; why again?  I ignored it for the time being. It's a screened-in porch; there's no smell. I'll get to it later.

    I boiled water for my weeds and my soup. I took a nap. When I got up, I boiled another pot for my weeds and drank my smoothie.

    There were two packages at the side door, one for me and one for B.  The one for me was the pedometers I ordered shipped in a box the size of a small bread box.  Maybe a bag would have done?   I opened the box midday and put the pedometer on.  I love it. It only records steps, nothing fancy. I don't have to deal with multiple options. The digital image is extra-large. Another yeah. And it's pink. A third one.  I had trouble finding the reset button. The directions said it's on the back of the pedometer.  This means I have to take it out of the clip holder each time, but this is easy to take out and put back in. I have had pedometers where removing them from the clip was an athletic event.

    I called Adam with a solution to sharing the car with Josh.  Adam has been using the car for Uber driving.  He had been driving his own car for that purpose, but someone back into him while he was parked and totaled it. I offered Mike's car since it was sitting idly in the driveway while we were in Honolulu. Mike's car is a hybrid and gets good mileage. Adam has asked to buy the car. Damon asked me to keep it so he could use it when he visits. 

    Josh had been driving Mike's car occasionally while we were away.  He discovered that driving a car is really much nicer than riding a motorcycle, particularly in the rain. I worked out a solution that seems to suit both the boys. The car is to be left in our driveway each night. When Josh leaves in the morning, he can decide if he wants to take it. If not, he will text Adam, and Adam can use it right away.  If Josh takes it, he'll text Adam when he gets home so Adam can choose whether to use the car right away or only at night. I get the impression that neither of these guys is very good at negotiation. They're both saying whatever the other one wants.  They would rather get nothing than talk to each other and work out something that works for both of them.  Maddening from my point of view.  

    I spoke to my friend, who is suffering from ungrateful family members.  We had worked on her anger using the gargoyle image. She was wondering what would soothe the gargoyle. She thought of allowing it to express its rage.  In this case, I would say no, at least, not yet.  If rage is going to be expressed, it has to be done to heal everyone involved.  That changes the outcome.  None of that expression of rage can be shown in the real world.  This is all done through imaging.  This doesn't mean that anger should never be expressed.  It just means that she should wait until she has offloaded the rage she's been building forever before she lets loose. I taught her the Vipassana meditation technique.  I have now taught it to two people after a brief instruction, and they got it, at least well enough to help them deal with their strong emotions.  

    Vipassana was developed by Buddha. It's simple and brilliant. You observe sensations on the physical body without evaluating them as either good or bad, desirable, or undesirable.  The effect is stunning.  I have used it to heal physical pain, no less psychological pain, anguish, rage, sadness, hopelessness,  you name it.  

    In the case of the two people I worked with, they were both experiencing emotional flooding. I had that experience while on a meditation retreat. Usually, the instructions were to do the meditation sitting. But, in this case, the retreat leader told me to lie down and just observe the sensations on my hands and feet, and nothing else.  It took a while for me to calm myself, but it happened.  The trick is to observe these sensations not as pain or pleasure, but as temperature, tension, tickling, tightness, whatever.  All sensations are related to our strongest feelings. Whatever we observe refers to emotions, even if we are not classifying it as such.  If we observe these sensations calmly, they resolve. Brilliant process. There's a reason Buddha is a big deal.

    Elsa and I went on our walk.  I had dinner, did some more work on the blog, and watched tv. I took Elsa for the final walk of the evening.  I went to bed and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Sunday, April 28, 2019

    I got up at 7 am, no Bikram today.  I walked Elsa.  I squeezed a dozen of the ripest limes before they went bad while doing the oil rinse. Then I washed last night's dishes. I worked on the blog while drinking my two cups of water. I am committed to getting the blog up to date.  Once that is done, I have other chores.  I need to follow up on all the financial stuff and get to work on Mike's book and get back to work on mine.

    I showered, did MELT, used the Tiger Tail, and dressed for church.  Judy and Paulette picked me up.  It is always cold in the Holy Rosary church. It's a small building.  Maybe it holds 75 people. Sometimes there are chairs set up on the small lanai at the top of the stairs at the entrance or out in the parking lot.  I once saw people out there on a rainy day holding umbrellas.  

    On Easter Sunday, there was a sizeable group.  Today it was a small one; all the seats inside the church weren't filled.  Judy was a lector and wanted to sit on the aisle. It's coldest there because you get the breeze coming in the front door, moving right through the building to the open windows in the backroom.  I moved over to the wall. That got me out of that draft. I'm sure I will appreciate it more in the hot and humid days of August, September, and October.      

    I took a nap when I got home.  When I got up, I heard Mike say, "Hon?" It was just as if he had come home and was looking for me so we could greet each other.  It was an ordinary moment, not a dramatic one. I started to move toward the voice - and remembered. 

    Judy came over. I had told her that Catholic doctrine has little meaning for me. Judy is a cradle Catholic who left the church for a while and came back to it with enthusiasm. She holds beliefs which I think would be hard for someone who wasn't raised in the faith. I really don't know what beliefs Mike held.   Sadly, we never talked about it. I hope he never thought I would put down his beliefs just because I didn't share them.  

    Judy presented stories and videos of miraculous events. I told her after the first one that her stories had no meaning for me. She tried another one. I finally had to just put a halt to her evangelizing.  I told her that I found her approach to sharing her faith stories in hopes that it would ignite a similar feeling in me a painful experience. I am very sensitive to people who want me to like what they like, think what they think so I can be more like them.  I had that aplenty in my family of origin. Thanks, but no thanks.

    What has come out of this is a deep sensitivity to the boundaries of others when I am in a position to teach or counsel them in any way. I encourage people to tell me if what I have to say has meaning for them. If my intent is to teach someone for their sake, then I'm not going to push my ideas. I have to be sensitive to what they want to learn and if they're ready to learn.  Teaching and comedy share the need for knowing your audience and good timing.

    After we finished with that discussion, I did some healing on Judy for her nausea, which is caused by the chemotherapy. There clearly is a physical component here, but there is also a psychological component that compounds the original problem.  

    I developed a procedure for helping people preparing for surgery to reduce stress. It involves the conscious mind informing the nonconscious mind about what would happen during the surgery and its purpose.  Our primitive mind never experienced a scalpel. For it, the scalpel is a sharp claw, ripping at its flesh; the anesthesia is a poison that can kill us, and the intubation tube is someone trying to cut off our air supply.  Most surgical procedures can be confused with torture. To calm the nonconscious mind, I have the conscious mind speak to the nonconscious mind directly and explain each of these procedures and the intentions behind them.  It is essential for the nonconscious mind to understand these intentions and that these procedures are administered in controlled ways.  It is a little like explaining it to a child who also is unfamiliar with these procedures. It may sound remarkable to you, but in fact, this works. With Judy, we worked on communicating to her nonconscious mind the purpose of the high level of toxicity in her body from the chemotherapy. This should at least reduce stress; with any hope, it will reduce her nausea as well.

    Damon called twice while Judy and I were busy. I tried to call him back when we were finished.  He said he wouldn't answer if he busy working with August to complete a video for his Spanish class.  I sat down to work on the blog.  I am determined to catch up. I'm making a few changes in how I work on it.  In the past, if I hit a section that seemed difficult, I would drop everything a play FreeCell. Now, I look for a passage that looks easy for me and work on that one. Then when I get back to the more difficult one; then, I have some ideas about how to write it. I'm also working at night more instead of watching TV and cataloging.  These strategies will serve me well when I am working on Mike's book and my book.  

    I called the lady from church again, who also lost her longtime partner, who is considerably more distressed than I am. Again, she didn't answer.  I hope she is all right.

     I realize how fortunate I am in so many ways.  I couldn't be better situated to cope with the loss of Mike.  Those who have to deal with a prolonged illness have it much worse, be it from cancer or dementia, anything that requires someone to be a hands-on caretaker without a great deal of help.  Those five weeks in the hospital on Oahu when I was sitting there 8 hours a day with no life of my own except when writing the blog, I became even more attached to Mike. I poured love into him.  If there had been a long period of home care while I waited for him to die, I would have been even more attached, and my life would have been severely contracted.  Even in the hospital, I was not the only person responsible for his care, seeing that he was fed, bathed, turned, and all his physical and psychological needs attended to.  Also, I wasn't isolated. I must have met at least 10 new people a day. Then I didn't go home to an empty house; I was staying at the ashram, which provided its own social simulation and support.  Because Mike had such a large footprint on the Big Island and all through Hawaii because of the diaconate, he provided me with connections that sustain me now.  Even Judy, who has proved to be an invaluable friend, I met through Mike.  She was in his Bible study class. My financial situation is far from dire, and I seem to be attracting people now who are willing to pay me for my tutoring and healing services, which makes me more secure.

            I have a lovely home, a life routine that suits me, a dog, and Yvette and Josh to watch over me.  I must be the luckiest position possible for having just lost my loving life partner. I should also mention that that loving life partner has left me a much stronger person than when he found me.  Mike relished my strengths.  He loved it when he saw me become more secure and more competent.  From the beginning, I never felt that Mike would limit me in any way.  There were ways I felt limited, but that didn't come from Mike. That came from my own history.  Yes, in some way, I appreciate the new freedom.  I enjoyed being alone when he was away for one weekend a month. But I also know that I could have had that freedom if he had lived. He celebrated my successes.  What a loss he is, my one-man cheering squad.

    He used to tell me I was beautiful and he loved me every day. At the beginning of our relationship, he insisted that I was objectively the most beautiful woman in the world.  I was delighted with his flawed perspective on my looks, but claiming that everyone else saw me as he did was just too much for me.  I can handle only so much insanity.  He finally toned it down to claiming I was just beautiful to him.  He loved my face. As I look at photographs of myself now, I find myself thinking, "Maybe I was fairly good-looking." I find I like my own face. Maybe I have absorbed him into myself now that he is gone.  I hope this works out for me. 

    My mother thought being a loving, caring parent meant dealing out a constant flow of criticism.  I still sometimes hear her voice in my head.  Mike found me a good enough partner. He delighted in me as I did in him. I don't so much hear his voice as I have a general sense of well-being. God is in His heaven and all's right with the world. My time with him was a great gift. I was grateful to have him in my life.  We didn't do much about birthdays or anniversaries. Instead,  we celebrated each other and our union each day.  Does that mean there weren't down days or we didn't have differences or outright arguments? Don't be ridiculous. We didn't stop being human beings,  but the positive experiences vastly outnumbered the negative, uncomfortable ones. We were two fortunate people. No, I don't think it was all luck. We were prepared to seek individual and marriage counseling if there was an unresolvable glitch in our relationship.  God, I loved my life with that man. 

    When I feel sad, it's mostly for what he suffered only to die in the end. Or, when I think about all the things that would bring him joy that he can no longer experience.  So far, I haven't felt sad for myself.  I can't imagine that won't come with time. If others can ride it out, I'm sure I will too.

    My cell phone posted a video from December 2017. Mike and I were at St. Steven's for a diaconate weekend and Christmas party. It was the weekend we picked up Elsa from the breeder in Honolulu.  We thought we would pick her up at the end of the weekend, but then Kathy Coughlin said, "Sure, bring her here." We did. There were shots of Mike walking Elsa, lying in bed with Elsa.  Those two bonded immediately.   She made him so happy. 

    I finally made contact with Damon and had a lovely chat. He's been making a point of calling once a week, usually on Sundays.  At one point, when I tried to call him back, he was talking to his other mother, the one that gave birth to him. I guess this is the day of the week he takes care of us. I'll take it.  

    Cylin told me a dream she had about Mike. She was visiting me in Hawaii and helping me set up my blog. She went to sit in the reclining chair that Mike preferred, but decided against it because she thought it might be disrespectful. She heard Mike's voice saying it would be fine if she sat there. I came out on the lanai and found her crying. She assured me they were tears of joy. 

    I did have a question about the blog for Cylin.  She is a published author of several young adult books and one children's book.  I love her writing.  Whenever a book of hers came out, I always gave a copy to the middle school librarian at Licking Heights.  She told me Cylin's books were always checked out, and they were some of her favorites, too. (She writes under the name of Cylin Busby). She maintains a website and a blog.  I was wondering how to present the material.  Should the last entry be at the bottom or at the top as it is now in the emails I send out? She said the format I am using is the preferred one. I suppose I can easily format it both ways without too much fuss.  That way, people don't have to read through over 200 pages backward if they want to read the whole thing.

    Damon recommended some videos: Ricky Gervais in After Life and Fosse/Verdon. I saw a preview of After Life. I think I can enjoy that.  I would love to see Fosse/Verdon. I love his choreography, but I can't find a way to view it.  We ended our TV subscription to saved money and protect ourselves from channel surfing. 

    I did more work on the blog and took Elsa for the final walk of the evening.  I went to bed and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Saturday, April 27, 2019

     I heard Yvette leaving at something like 4:30 am.  It wound up she went out to Matsuyama's to get Josh eggs for breakfast before he went to work. 

    I had set the alarm for 7 am so to make the 8:30 class. I woke up at 7:30 and jumped out of bed. I discovered that somehow I had turned the volume on my phone to zero. I  let Elsa out the back door and raced to drink my two cups of water in preparation for Bikram.  I did manage to take Elsa for a short walk and made it out the door in time to get to class.  Only a few people were in before I arrived. I got my place. When the class started, there were 21 people.    I met Yvette's friend Scott today. He is one of many people she brings into the studio.

    The two of them arrived together in her car.  I looked at her and said, "Is there something you want to tell me?" As it winds up, Scott doesn't have a set of wheels. Yvette picks him up and brings him to the class. 

    During the class, I continued doing everything without tightening my left glute and watching the effect on the rest of my body. Mark made some joyful comment, "Hawaiian humidity is back. Yeah!!" Maybe not so much. I think the humid days are a misery. Mid-August to mid-October. I'm planning to be in LA for Damon's birthday and Seattle for Karin's for part of that time in September.  I also hope to stop off and visit Shivani in San Francisco. 

    When I got home, I showered, washed my Bikram clothes by hand, hung them up, did MELT, and used the Tiger Tail.  I did some work on the blog, but I was too tired to do much.  In the past, when I was young and busy, I would push through. I had to. But now, I know I have the option of taking a nap, and that's what I do.

    Damon and Cylin called while I was napping, bringing me to the surface, but not enough to get me up and answer the phone.  I was too tired to consider a conversation, but I had a big smile on my face listening to their message as I lay there. I went back to sleep. 

    I got up and worked on the blog. Judy called.  I actually felt better, more energized after the call. I went down to the bottom of the property to pick limes.  I got 42 off the ground.  I didn't see flowers growing on the tree. Soon, I will have to buy lemons from Costco to get my limeade/lemonade fix.

    I noticed that some of the Haole Koa trees I doused with gasoline hadn't come back. These are skinny invasive trees that nothing kills. All you can do is slow them down. But, it looks like I had some success. Of course, I worked on my hands and knees to kill the ones I did. I cut them down as close to the ground as I could, and then scraped the surface of the roots and poured a large quantity of gasoline on them. 

    I walked Elsa early before dinner because it looked like rain.  I met Paulette coming down to pick up the family mail.  She walked with Elsa and me until we got back to her house.  I picked up our mail as I do every evening when Elsa and I come home from our before dinner walk. There was a check from TIAA Cref.  I thought I told them I didn't want them to take out the minimum annual withdrawal amount; I wanted Raymond James to do that.  Either I checked the wrong box, or they just ignored my instructions. Also, I'm confused about why they sent me a check rather than sending it electronically to Raymond James.  Nothing is simple. Everything requires follow-up.  So confusing. So complex. So annoying. 

    I ate dinner: leftover chicken salad from Zola's visit, leftover green salad from Costco, a slice of bread from Safeway with butter, and Judy's apple cake from Easter Sunday. I did more work on the blog.  

    After dinner, I cataloged more books. Mike's library makes me feel sad.  I don't know how he related to it. I think with pride.  I don't get it. There is no way he read most of those books. If I had all those books without having read them, they would accuse me every time I looked at them.  I hope Mike didn't relate to them that way.  Maybe he looked at them and thought, "When I'm ninety, I will have the time to read these all.  Yummy." I sure hope so. 

    Yvette came up to use the dryer. She is trying to get me to socialize with more people. She mentioned that her friend, Steve, who house-sat for us during the funeral, found me interesting. At first, I thought he told her he was interested in getting to know me better. A moment of panic. Among other things, he is young enough to be my son.  Old habits, etc., etc., etc. But no, this is Yvette's idea. She has both male and female friends with complete ease. She's a poster child for someone excellent at developing social relationships that are just friendly.   I liked Steve, but I can't imagine he'd really be interested in getting to know me better. This is a whole new weird world for me.  I can barely function on lunch dates with women friends I haven't known for a while.

    I must say that right after Mike died, I started looking at men in a different way. I even had a dream of coming on to the husband of a friend, a man I have never found attractive in that way. I'm beginning to understand why widows and divorcees were rejected from the groups they socialized with as a couple.  There must be something very primitive going on there.  I am enjoying my time alone and have no conscious need for a man in my life, certainly not as a miscellaneous man.  Mike and I spent 45 years building our relationship.  It was/is worth its weight in gold.  

    I took Elsa for our late evening walk, had some Hersey's Milk Chocolate with whole Almonds, washed my face, tried to brush my teeth to get all the Milk Chocolate and almond bits out of my teeth, went to be and said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."