Burned

Oh yeah! That's right! I burned over 300 calories today, probably over 400! The scale even reported (faultily or not) that I had lost 2.5 pounds! So the past week and a half of vigorous...OK, not so much vigorous, but toning exercises seems to be paying off. I walked 2.5 miles on the treadmill and burned 361 calories just while I was on there. I am truly thrilled about this. When I first started the gym, about a month and a week ago, I could barely get to walking three miles on the treadmill, and I certainly was nowhere near the 5% incline I was at today. I love feeling the results, being able to hold my stomach in and feel the muscles all over my body get tighter. I just keep imagining my wedding day and my honeymoon, feeling healthy and happy. From there, I imagine my life and my family, and I imagine living a long healthy life because of the choices I am making now.

Today, I spent an hour and a half on the phone with a very nice, knowledgeable man from AT&T. All I wanted to do was switch my cable and Internet company from the one I have to theirs. He was very nice, and every time there was a pause or the computer was moving slow, he asked questions about my family and such. I learned quite a lot about this man. He was born in California and moved to St. Louis when he was 11, going on 12. When they went to St. Louis, they were going so he could meet family of his, and they just ended up staying. He wishes he could travel...Ooh, he wishes he could travel. He would like to go back to California. He is about 25 or 26 years old. His name is Jamal. His mother can install her own cable and Internet and she is nearly 60. This tidbit I was informed of to reassure me that I could not mess this installation up. I shared a tidbit with him that I was sure I could mess this installation up. He too is not too impressed with St. Louis, and again, he would love to travel. :o) It wasn't necessarily a bad time on the phone, just a very long time. However, if anyone ever has to call AT&T, I highly recommend you ask for Jamal in St. Louis, as long as you have some time.

I am starting grief counseling with my sister on Thursday this week. My mom died about a year and a half ago from complications with metastatic breast cancer that spread to her liver. This whole week, though it has only technically been three days, has been a very down week. I am getting very anxious about this grief counseling because as each day passes, I am realizing just how much is still not dealt with. I don't even know if I would say it isn't dealt with. I just realize that I go a few months being very happy and content, and then there is a crash where I realize my mom is not here anymore. I never feel more alone than when I wake up in the middle of the night and realize she has been gone so long. Somehow, the dreams where she is alive and healthy seem to make it hurt worse. I was reading a book last night that explained exactly how it feels. This is an excerpt from Kate Jacob's book Friday Night Knitting Club:

"She moaned to herself as her mind raced through the last fifteen years of her life, always leaving her with the same conclusion: Stan was dead. Really gone. And she still here, alone.

Groggy, Anita remained motionless in her bed, staring at the ceiling. How many times had she had that dream? The grief seemed to cycle in endless phases; sometimes she dreamed about Stan night after night, and other times months would pass between seeing him in her sleeping hours. And then the dream would return. Always it was the same-Stan was alive!-and always the waking reality was the same: Anita was a widow.

She would see him in the living room, on the street, at a party. The sequence never altered-the shock at the sight of him, the embarrassment over her mistake-what sort of wife would believe her husband was dead when he was right there in front of her?-then the intense relief that left her wanting to fall to her knees and thank God that he was still alive.

It seemed so real. Each and every time. She felt stupid when she woke up, but everything seemed so logical in the dream. So matter-of-fact. Anita would tell Stan how she had worried, and he would laugh and call her his sweetheart and she would feel so goddamned overwhelmed that his supposed death had all been a misunderstanding. Of course it was! Everything was okay! And that meeting, the moment of talking with Stan, would be so raw and exciting and truly perfect that she would be enveloped by a happiness beyond any she had ever imagined.

The feeling was pure joy.

Just at that instant she would awaken, right when she had sorted through all the possibilities and come to the conclusion that yes, Stan was alive, and all was right again."

-Jacobs, Kate. The Friday Night Knitting Club. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2007.

Even though this character had lost her husband, I feel exactly the same way as I awake from a dream about my mom being alive and healthy. If I could just see her in Heaven, it would not hurt so badly, but I think that would ruin the concept of faith, not that I have an issue with that concept. I understand why I can't just see her in Heaven, but I will be the first to say that it sucks.

Broken Humor Spot

Well, every time I sit down and think of blogging, I end up going to another website. My brain has been broken for a few days now, and I am forcing myself to somewhat remedy this issue now, before it gets out of control. So, here it goes...

A young man, around 30 years-old, died in my building the other day. He was epileptic, but I really don't know if that has anything to do with his death. His father found him dead in his apartment on Friday morning. When I went home for my lunch break at 11:30 am on Friday morning, I pulled my fiance's truck into our parking lot while on the phone with my big sister. I was shocked to see a police car parked by the dumpster, and two ambulances taking up my half of the parking lot. I parked on the other side, but as I was pulling in, the four EMTs and the police officer just looked at me. They stopped talking momentarily and just stared at me. I felt weird just from the way they looked at me, but I parked the truck and got out. I walked past the EMTs and no one said a word to me. I got to the door, and a man in farm clothes was standing in the doorway with my elderly neighbor. I didn't recognize him, and they just stood in the doorway. The whole time, I never got off my phone, and I surely never asked what was going on. I just assumed if they didn't feel the need to prevent me from walking through the scene, it couldn't have been too big a deal.

It was obviously a big deal. I found out later that man standing in the doorway was the young man's father. I will never forget the way he looked at me when I said, "Excuse me." I didn't say it rudely, but in his state, I think he was shocked that I was walking anywhere near him. Again, no one felt any need to warn me about what I was walking into.

I was only home about half an hour, making sandwiches for my fiance and myself, before I left to have lunch with my fiance. When I was walking out the door, the EMTs were walking into this young man's apartment. They didn't have a stretcher; they only had small metal suitcases. I knew the young man was epileptic, and since no one seemed to be in any hurry, I just assumed he had a seizure and they were making sure he was stable again.

I went back to work after lunch and hadn't heard any different than what I had assumed until just as we were locking the doors at my job. My sister had tried to call me, but we weren't officially closed yet. I didn't answer, so she sent me a text message so I at least was aware of what was happening before I went back home. I swear the wind leaped out of my lungs. In a moment, I felt so much shock. After I caught my breath, I called my fiance to explain the situation. All he had known was what I told him over our lunch break, and he told me he had just talked to the young man the night before for about half an hour.

When I arrived back home that evening, I just started bawling. I could hardly walk through the door without being overwhelmed with the feeling that I wanted to vomit. I just couldn't handle the fact that he had died in what felt like was right under my nose. I hated that I couldn't have changed it, and I hated that he was dying in their alone as I was walking in and out the door. I still hate it, but I have had a few days to process. I had a low key weekend, which was really good. I just wasn't sure how to blog because I wasn't emotionally ready to blog about happy, funny things.

Ever since my mom died a little over a year and a half ago, my perspective on death has changed. I deal with different situations differently, but it seems as though death affects me very deeply now, no matter what situation. My heart just cries out for the families that have to deal with the death because I know how awful I felt, and sometimes still feel, after my mom died. I miss her terribly, and I hate that other families have to deal with that kind of pain.

In a few days or so, when I get some more time, I will post something more light hearted about my weekend. It was my fiance's and my two year anniversary today, and we had a wonderful peaceful time yesterday doing absolutely nothing of great significance. :0) I have also been continually planning our Ireland honeymoon, and I am finally ready to get a running budget. We are getting our passport info turned in tomorrow, and I think this is all really going to be happening. It is truly the most exciting roller coaster I have ever been on.

Engulfed

Is there not a fire around all of us?
We are trying frantically to get out.
We know this is killing us.
We know we need to find a different way.
We are suffocating.
It's just to hard to go on.
Where is everyone?
I need someone to help me.
Why would they leave me when I need them the most?
We lay down.
We accept our fate.
It hurts...
But it will all be over soon.
-In Memory of Madisyn Moore and Shanna Radakovich

Sometimes life can feel so overwhelming that I just want to give up. Today sort of feels like one of those days. I feel as though I envision someone else's sorrow so much and imagine how exactly I would feel if it were me in their place that I end up feeling as though I had gone through their exact situation. Today, I am exhausted. I couldn't tell you what I dreamt about last night, but I woke up thinking about Madisyn and Shanna. I didn't know these girls, but I can't stop my imagination from running, thinking about their lives, their friends, their thoughts, what they wanted to do in life, what they had been talking about at their sleep over, any angle my head comes up with. I feel sick with grief, for their mothers especially.

This past week, I have heard of four deaths in this small community. People are going to die every day, people all over the world. There is nothing I can do to stop that. However, I deeply wish that I could stop the amount of pain that results from the trauma of a death. No one deserves to live with the questions, the guilts, the what ifs, and no one deserves to feel so helpless and worthless as they sometimes do when they lose someone.

Today, my soul sits inside my body, weeping for those that are about to experience some of the most tumultuous times of their lives. I wish I could join my soul in the abyss that is inside me, but I have to keep moving, if for nothing else, than for fear of losing myself again.