Forks on the river

 When one looks at the river on the map, you cannot help but observe that the rivers often have turns and forks. Rivers naturally do not go straight, and that is what we experience on our lives as well. 

The COVID-19 pandemic offered a new fork on the river I found myself on.  Nevertheless, there was a discovery that my introversion benefit greatly during the COVID-19 pandemic.  Staying home?  No biggie. Not having to socialize with people?  No problem! 

However, I found a hardship with not having family to rely on, with family living in other states.  The majority of friends live in other states as well.  So introversion had a buffed sense of social isolation, however not totally.  I found myself thinking of many ways to, let say, ease the severity of depression.  Often I found myself driving, with invasive thoughts, or I would be preparing a meal, with a thought, on how sharp the knife was.  

The only anchor was my Lola, the sweet pekingese dog.  Cuddling with her, taking her out for walks, and welcoming conversations outside with people who wanted to say hi to Lola.   

Lola had been there through my infertility journey, and again I found her steadfast during the pandemic. 

When the vet told me Lola had kidney disease in late 2022, with an estimate of up to a year to live, I started thinking how can I live without her?  How can I handle this new fork in my life?   

Loving Lola, tweaking her diet, and increasing dog socialization, Lola became  the center of my life. 

Unexpectedly, I was informed that a puppy had been born- I had asked for a puppy in 2019, but after several attempts, failed pregnancies and stillborn puppies, I forgot about being on the waiting list.  

An email showed up, with a photo of a puppy, eyes still closed, and so "here is your puppy!" from the breeder.   I started to feel guilty and angry, wondering how I could basically love this puppy when I am grieving for Lola, sitting next to me?  How could I deal with this budding fork?  The kayak is starting to wobble. 

I trusted my gut that told me to accept the puppy, and so I welcomed Remy into our  home in early 2023. Lola was already starting to lose weight, but with Remy's arrival, she somehow had gained weight.  They started to play, which was astonishing at that point, when Lola had been sleeping a lot back then, but now starting to act like a puppy herself.   

The vet said that kidney disease had stopped advancing, and stayed steady at stage 2. I started to feel hopeful that Lola could live longer.  The river became calm.  

Do you know that hope can be the most cruel invention ever?  

By April 2024, Lola had started showing symptoms of organ failure, I recognized it was time to let her go.  I brought Remy with us as I took Lola to the vet who had known her all her life, and so could respect the transition.  At that time, I looked back at the river of memories, and realized Lola had a full loving life, the best one could ever ask for.  And she was ready to let go, and I could not deny her.  

Lola was content to sleep on my lap, as she let go, and Remy rested his head on Lola's back as she passed away.   I realized Lola HAD stayed longer to make sure that Remy knows how to take care of me, as I take care of them.  Lola left her heart with me, and I will always miss her.  Remy will be there with me.  

Remy and I are exploring this new fork in our lives. Together.

Reflections.

When I was angry.

Looking back through the journal, I was recalling emotions.

Confusion.
Denial.
Anxiety.
Fear.
Anger.
Bewilderment.
Dizziness.
Rejection.
Bargaining.
Praying.  (okay, that's not an emotion.)
Tumult.
Sorrow.
Anguish.
Indignation.
Depression.
Suicidal.
Sick.
Hurting.
Storm.
Grief.
Ire.
Distemper.
Heartbreak.
Tears.
Heartache.
Flooding.
Numb.
Wretchedness.
Irritability.
Indifference.
Stupor.
Misery.
Lethargy.
Millstone.
Infuriation.
Resignation.
Suffering.
Reluctance.
Emptiness.
Numbness was my best friend.
Emotion-less.
Cloudy.


The thing is that I couldn't put a finger on when I started thinking there is life after infertility.  I believe it was when I realized somewhere, somewhen, maybe with meeting my nephew Eli for the first time at age of 2, or when it was when I was headbutting against an anti who was eager to bully a grieving woman coming in for a D&C for her dead fetus (wanted pregnancy, by the way), or when I realized the Deaf community is behind in its access to full education and almost no voice in politics.

 Somewhere among those, the spark was re-lit within me. When? I don't know and I do not see any point in trying to nail that moment. That does not matter.  What matters is how I chose to live again on my terms. 

Even more when I look at my Pinterest account (don't everyone have  nowadays?), I do see how the collections change with me through the time- there are collections on Infertility blogs, Infertility posts, grief and anger memes, "what if" collections- and there are collections on Geek art, comic books, Tiny houses, racial justice, intersectionality.  The first collections were prominent in 2011 to 2014, while second group of collection started popping up around 2013. Swinging forth and back between the collections.  I see the last time I had posted something in first group (infertility) was in 2015 when I found out I would be an aunt again. "Congrats on being an aunt again. And you're still infertile" was the last post. And I recall looking at that post and was thinking to myself,

"Do I want to feel sorry for myself? Go back into the void, wrapping myself in the comfort of numbness and darkness?"

And my answer.  "Fuck that.  Life is too short."   And made a new collection about 'Womanhood' of how I interpret womanhood- not by the womb to create a baby, but by the capability to create life out of love, passion and perseverance.

And there's a collection in which is basically my 'picture-diary', with the earliest images being dark, stormy, anguish, like crying woman, thunderstorms, cliffs, abandoned buildings, screams, and quotes like ""Don't judge my path if you haven't walked my journey".

Now with recent additions to that collection, I see there is hope, life, passion, wilderness, depth, reading. Michfest. Labyrinths. Protesting.  Art. Self-love. 

And that tells me that I'm healing.

Still Alive.

I had forgotten the password for this blogspot, and I wasn't in any hurry to restore that.

Have been very busy lately, with classes, volunteering, local activities and moderating three Facebook groups, on top of providing workshops here and there.

So yes, I'm still alive.

Will catch up with the bucket list for 2014, and some updates soon.

And yes, I survived the third anniversary two weeks ago-  on that day, it was finally snowing after months of no snow.  Instead of feeling the drowning grief of the first anniversary or emotional numbness of the second anniversary, I felt passive resignation.

Well, that's a step toward healing.

(artist unknown, if you know who, please let me know so I can credit) 

Love me

Have been full up to my ears, Ha!  

So hadn't time to check in with my blog for a long while, which is both good and not so good.  

One reason I have to come to a consideration, (which might be a sensitive spot for some readers), is that whenever I write about my infertility, my sorrow, my frustrations, I find myself in a cycle of depression, clockwise.  

And I don't like that.  

I have been out of state several times, including YES, the MICHIGAN'S WOMYN MUSIC FESTIVAL!!!  That experience walking on the Land under the moonlight, seeing womyn drum and dance, and of laughter and tears among us, I cannot really describe it.   How can you describe the color red to someone blind?  This is similar to whenever I try to describe the event. 

I have been increasing busy in activism, including reproductive justice, domestic violence, awareness of Deaf community/American Sign Language, and my beloved passion, labyrinths.  

Does it mean I have forgotten or pushed aside my infertility? 

No. I still find myself feeling sad, but the frequency and length of experiencing sorrow had stretched to the point that it feels like a soft headsmack, when occurring now and then. Not so like the baseball bat slam that I'd frequently experienced in my heart in the first year, or the cold water bath in my face in the second year.   AND I enjoyed holding a baby earlier this summer, which was a HUGE step for me, to the point that I'd keep looking for opportunities to hold her when possible during that week of camping.  

After two years, I feel it is safe to say that yes it is still hard that I am not anywhere near to my goal of having a child, either by adoption or foster care.  Being deaf is its own obstacle, imagine that.   So that's the battle ongoing in my life.  

When I have time, I'll write more. 

So on this note, I will leave this for you-    love y'all, love me.  

Good point.

for folks who can't read tiny words

"Why do people do that?   Deny that they've ever done anything wrong in a relationship. Why can't people just take responsibility for their shit and move on?" 

Enuff said.

Cycle of apathy

I know I have been away for a long while.    Juggling with illnesses and almost non-existent energy, I find myself disinterested in saying anything nowadays.  

 The doctor is still working on trying to find what's wrong with me- so far some tests say good, some say iffy-  so...MORE tests, means more blood work and all that.  

Fun.  

I thought I have been over the annual depression by end of February or so, (after the anniversary of the surgery).  Not so.  This is much worse, than I expected.    At least back during December to February, I felt something- sorrow, regret, dealing with so many 'what ifs', and angry. There were clouds above my head.

Now, there are no clouds above my head. I don't feel sad, or regret.

What do I feel?  

Nothing.   I am empty.   

I poured myself into a painting class earlier last month- didn't help.   Went on a volunteer clean-up of the waterfront park.  Nada.  Helped out with three fundraisers.  I felt nothing.  I even became a Big Sister (and that was even big for me), and I do find myself enjoying the time with the girl- but after I get in the car to go home, the world is empty.  

I just have to kick myself in the ass and bite the leather.    This place is draining me, especially with folks having babies left and right, making it more and more lonely for me, reminding me of what I'm missing out.  

So I had worked on a plan of action, which I am already completing some steps successfully, and if things fall as I expect them, I'll be out of here and be somewhere else.  I'll be happy, among friends who do not look at me with pity, not inviting me just because they feel they have to.  I would be with people at two in the morning talking about Star Trek, or endsofdays movies, or Margaret Atwood, walking on the beach barefoot, or sipping my lattes with side of biegnets.  

Just you watch me.  

Life goes on.

This month had thrown a lot of cold water in my face repeatedly.

 A new medical condition.  Finance struggles.  A dying friend. 

The medical condition- I'm currently working on it.  I'll live.

Finance struggles- I'm currently working on it.  I'll survive.  

The dying friend?  Not so.  

I knew she was suffering in great pain, yet I was telling myself she'll recover.  She will be okay- just give it a bit more time.  

I was at work when I got the call to come to the hospital.  It took me three hours, and I was not familiar with the area of hospitals (why do some hospitals have to cluster together in one area?!). So I decided to park somewhere in an underground garage parking, thinking I'll find out where the right building is once I get to the first floor and ask.   I got on the elevator, and pressed the button for the first floor.  

The doors opened to a scene that I'd rather go without.

Labor & Delivery- registration.   

Pregnant women waiting to check in.

Definitely cold-water shock!    

I quickly left the floor as I could, but I was already reeling in shock.  I was outside, focusing on not railing at the world publicly.   I managed to find the right building (three buildings away).   Walking down the hallway, I found myself overwhelmed with rerunning the visual of the labor ward/floor over and over in my mind, while trying to remind myself "you're here for your friend. You're here for your friend."  

I couldn't think of my friend.  I got to the room, and opened the door- to see her lying in bed, looking really bad.  

It's like something *switched* in my mind, now fully attending to her, forgetting my own emotions.  

Standing next to her bed, seeing her unresponsive, struggling for the next breath, I knew then she was not going to recover.  

Talking with family relatives there, sharing stories and soft chuckles, hugs and tears, I knew then we are there for her, and for ourselves, to remind us death is nearby, a friend, and that life goes on. 

After hours, I leaned to kiss her cheek, not knowing if I would see her again before she passes away.  I returned to the first building, realizing I'll have to go to the lobby where the elevator would take me to the underground parking- the Labor & Delivery.    

I came in the lobby, standing still.   And I realized something.  

Life is everywhere, even being the other side of the coin, Death.   

I took a shaken breath, and went to the elevator, which opened before I could hit the button- to show a very pregnant woman and her husband. The woman smiled at me before passing me.  I went in the elevator, and went down, to my car all in silence.   Got behind the wheel and started driving the way home.  

Stayed up overnight to create a labyrinth painting, in which I named "The Fade."  Looking at it, I was reminded of something I had forgotten-  of the Hopi seeing the labyrinth as new life and reincarnation.  The Labyrinth being the womb itself, in which one comes in and out as new life, reborn.   So the seeing the pregnant women echoing something I yearn for, yet the dying friend reflecting something I had forgotten, in which she will still live in my memories, ever meeting me on my circular path  with remembrance.  

Quiescence

I'm back, and I am still around.

Second anniversary on this blog since Feb 2, 2012.

Second waypost since the surgery.

Second year since everything crashed around me.


Yes, in past, I have written posts in reminding myself that it's okay to walk my own path, taking time in grief, and not to rush myself.

Yet, here I find myself nowadays, disappointed that I hadn't gotten over my grief.  So there is this voice in my mind, saying...

 Hypocrite. 

I am still working on ignoring that nasty voice.  

I'll need to start reading y'all blogs again, and start reading that book 'Way of Forgiveness" by D. Patrick Miller- I have been pushing off reading that.    I need to reinforce reminding myself that it's OKAY to have setbacks, it's OKAY to stop and take deep breaths, it's OKAY to be on my own pace, and to stop pushing myself.  

I'm human, and that's what I keep forgetting that.  We all can't be superwomen everyday.  

P.S. will do Bucket list for checking off 2013, in a future post (something to look forward to.)  

Hiatus

After recognizing several signs from previous years, including heightened anxiety, withdrawal from socializing, cussing for no reason, and glaring knives at pregnant women nowadays, and feeling depressed even from reading fellow IF/CNBC bloggers' posts, and with the anniversary of the hysterectomy coming up, I am taking an hiatus from this blog, to stay in my 'cocoon' for the next 8 weeks.

(unknown artist, if you know who, let me know)

When I feel more myself, I'll be back.

Puppy love

Soon, it'll be the second anniversary of the surgery in a few weeks, and now with the cold weather holding us indoors, this is a time on reflecting what had helped me so far, and is still helping.  

It's pretty tough being single, even in a town that have kids coming out of their ears.  I had been running out of folks who don't have kids- that's Louisville for you.  Family is all over the nation, the nearest 10 hours away.  Childless or childfree friends live in other states- so you can imagine how it's harder during the journey.   What really helped me, are my sweet  'furry little persons with four legs.'  

If not for my Lola and Hairy, I don't know what life would be like, and to be honest with you...?  Something I'd not want to know.  

Unconditional love.  Tail wags.   Tongue licks.   Insists on laying on your lap even when the laptop is there already.    Poking noses into my face while I sleep.  Leaving messes in the crate (thank you!)

White fur all over the red armchair, and brown fur on the cream sofa.  Dog poop bags.  Vet bills.  Agility training (for the lil' girl).  Dental cleanings.    Bringing in mud after long trail hikes.  Laughter.  Nose touches.  Sloppy kisses. My furry kids.  

And I would not ever consider trading them for a child.   The dogs came in my life first, and they'll stay there until then.  

I got both lil' dogs from a rescue. It's funny- I was feeling good that I had rescued them, after they were unwanted, abandoned and forgotten. 

  And you know what? In truth, they are rescuing me.   

Wrong thing to say.

I got together with someone that I hadn't seen for a long while over breakfast recently.  Dancing around the elephant in the room, I had to ask her something.  

"I noticed that you stopped talking with me after a few months after surgery- that was two years ago- and now you asked me to add you again on Facebook last summer.  What changed your mind?"

Yup, that's me,  straightforward.  To the point.  

She looked down and then said she didn't want to explain.

I said, "okay."  I was ready to drop it, and was munching on a piece of my omelet.  

She bursted out, "I can't handle your grief, you had been so sad so long time, you won't get better- I decided to give you six months before I gave up on you.  That's why I defriended you."  

Six...  months?    You can't handle it?  

Really, where is the directions that grief has to be limited to six months?  Where is it in instructions that my grief don't have to be about me, but about you?  

That comes to an article that I had read two months ago, and I feel the article is a must for everyone involved, not the nonmoms only, but their families and furthermore, their friends.  Here is the link-  How not to say the wrong thing

This would have lessened pain for everyone.    Less pain.  Less anger.  Less resentment. 

As it is, I know who to talk with, you dear friends and fellow IFers/CNBC bloggers.  It's pretty much safer to talk in this circle, if you think about it.  

Time out.

Nowadays, I find myself saying no.

Eat out?
No.

Hang out?
No.

Take a walk?
No.

Chat on phone or computer?
No.

Read blogs?
No.


Even thinking about going to the grocery to acquire food, that's too much for me.

Sitting here, thinking how I got like this- and I can only come to the conclusion, Christmas is coming up, and I don't want to see the kids.  What I'm missing out.  What I will not experience. More closer it comes to February anniversary, my mood is darkening.

The degree of sadness is different today compared to last year- last year, I was under a black cloud, numb, raging at the world, with a heap of self-hatred and guilt. Tissue box in each room.

 Now?

I'm melancholy.

With urges to bang my head on the wall, if I see a pregnant woman or a baby.  Not giving in, thro.  But... damn the urges!

(source)

You have to admit...this is an improvement compared to last year, in a sense.

It's funny- I got a note from an ex friend wanting to talk with me.  I did consider talking with her, but with the emotions I'm going through, especially now with the holidays nowadays.....?

Bad idea.     I'll have to hold off 'til the 'dark season' passes.  That'd be after February.

Tree

Before the surgery, I had always loved the tree- Christmas tree, Yuletide log, Holiday tree as long as I could remember from my childhood.   Looking up at the tree, I had thought the lights as fairies holding candles, stars sparking out of the night, a beacon for Santa Claus to come and drop off presents.    A family tradition to get a tree, decorate it, and bask in the tree lights, with the darkness around us.

Looking back, I realized the tree also was an example of family, everyone getting together front of the tree, to open presents, to enjoy each other, and be reminded of what family is supposed to be.


Supposed to be.

Sixteen years ago, I got a very BIG tree-  7'5 tree, so thick that you'd need two persons on each side, to help decorate the tree (woe be the person in back/corner, having to move by inch, hoping he wouldn't knock the tree down!).   Sixteen years ago, I thought I would have a family; a husband to love, and children to see the magic in their eyes.

(source)

I faithfully put up the tree every year, thinking "next year, I'll find someone and have a child."


I had relationships, however, I couldn't picture myself living with each of those guys permanently, and I was unfortunately right.    The last relationship had burned me badly, and I found that singlehood was much better for me.    I then looked into getting pregnant, and that didn't work out; two miscarriages were the result before I noticed the bump that led to the surgery.

The surgery wiped out my hope of having a family.  Children.


Last year, I found myself reluctantly putting up the tree. I found out that I had an hate-love relationship with the tree.

There would be the days I would look at the tree, with tears in my eyes.  

Some days, I'd glance at the tree, thinking there's still hope.

Other days, I wanted so badly to toss the tree out the window, chop it up and toss it into a bonfire.

After the holiday, I decided the tree had to go.  I donated the tree and ornaments to a shelter for domestic violence survivors, so the survivors and children can enjoy the tree in a safe place.

For the last six weeks, I found myself swinging between a desire for a tree and not wanting a tree.   A friend, who spent the road trip with me, encouraged me to get a tree. We didn't get one- and I found that I'm glad about that.  I love her, but I didn't like the pressure, not when I didn't feel ready.

I still searched for trees while surfing Internet, finding myself annoyed when catching myself doing that.

After talking with my therapist a few days ago, about the tree, I realized something.

The 7'5 tree-  it was for my family to be. My dream children.    Hope for family and children.   

Hence the tree never had belonged to ME. It had belonged to my family that was supposed to happen. 

After the catharsis, I then knew what to do.

I looked at trees, taking my time.    Tonight, I went to Target to get some package boxes so I'd mail stuff to family in Kansas, when I thought to myself "why not look at the trees here?"

I saw that the trees were on sale for 50% off. I went, "well, there's this tree I like, don't know if there'd be any left."

I went around the corner to find that the tree model that I liked, was still there, but no packages beneath the low raiser that the floor model was placed on.  I was thinking fatalistically, "that's that..." when a staff member stopped by and asked if he could help me. I shrugged and pointed at where the tree was, "no more packages. All out."

"We can pack this floor model tree for you, 75% off for you."

Serious? 
Serious?  
Is he serious?!  

I knew then that the tree was meant for ME.    Jules, the woman I am, on my own journey, exploring the world.

I took the tree home.    I put it up, decorating it with new ornaments, with some ornaments I kept from my trips to New Orleans and Britain.

This is MY tree.

Pillar of awesomeness

This post is scheduled during my absence.    (It was supposed to appear during my absence, it didn't- harumph)

A few months ago, a close friend and I have been chatting about when we could get together again.  Impulsively, I tossed out "how about a road trip- just like Thelma and Louise?  Without the cliff ending, that is!" 

After laughing so hard, she LOVED that idea!  

Now....we are in the almost end of the road trip, going across the Old South-  Memphis, Jackson, Baton Rogue,  New Orleans (most of the time in that Big Easy!), Huntsville, and all.  

BBQ.  Lighting ceremony of Elvis' home.  Games and laughter. 

Kayaking.   Cabin.  Crawdads.  

Vintage buildings, throwback to 1950's and dark roux.  

Crawdads, masks, carousel, swamps. 

Oak trees, shrimp & grits, 2 am dancing. 

Soul food, plantations and streetcars on the st Charles street. 

Eye candy, tacos and art markets. 

And best thing through it all?   The laughter, the tears, the sisterhood. 

R- seriously- you're awesome!!!    When it comes to example of awesomeness, you're the pillar!  

Toxic friendship

There was someone I was hanging out with a few months; I had started to notice things, that were RED ALERTs of the friendship being toxic.  

I notice after visits, I found myself not liking myself, double-guessing my own behavior and thoughts, even wondering why I feel lousy.  

Red flag. 

Excessive talks about exercise, dieting, and valuing looks (even hundreds of photo poses on Facebook!), looking at me, saying "Why can't you be like me?  Obviously you don't like yourself."  When I tried to say something to point out that we have different lifestyles, I was told "don't be so defensive, god, you're so sensitive!"   So I fell silent, feeling no matter what I'd do, I'd still lose.  

Red flag. 

I started watching what I am saying in conversations, to avoid blowups and tantrum fits- it was easier to say "yes" and "whatever", than to share my differing opinions.  

Red flag. 

When disclosing a bad experience (i.e. a dog getting sick) or even small things (i.e. getting lost in a town on way to a meeting), I get laughter, mocking comments "you twit, how can you get lost?!" or "If she is sick, put her down- so?" 

There were several other red flags, but I selectively ignored them because...

I didn't want to feel alone.    It was getting harder and harder to find people, either childfree or CNBC; and so many times I'd contact a friend to find that she's busy with a daughter visiting, or another parent friend not having time even for a phone chat (even when we scheduled it when kids would be asleep.)   So having someone who is childfree AND local, that's a plus.

Nevertheless, all this came to a stop when I decided to invite him to a labyrinth ritual three weeks ago, (a church invited me to attend a private labyrinth walk, and I was told I could bring someone.) I thought he'd appreciate that since he had been curious about my passion about labyrinths.    I noticed he brought his camera, so I explained that he might need to ask permission of the priest to take photos of the labyrinth ritual and people participating (during the ritual, silence and personal inward journeying can be sober and private).

That's when he went off.  Ranting about having the right to photograph whatever he wanted to, wherever he wanted to.  When I'd say something, "I can see how you love your photography, and you are a good photographer, and how this could  upset you, but this is a church.. You CAN ask the priest.....", he would go off again, saying that the church should appreciate his photography, to show the world about labyrinths...this went on for a while.  

I found myself bursting into tears.  I was taking him to a place that I love so much, and I felt violated.  He then started to belittle me, "crybaby, overreacting."  

I stared at him, and I suddenly thought to myself, "What's wrong with him being abusive?"  I shut down my emotions and told him we're going back- I will not take him to the labyrinth.  He said "whatever, I don't want to go anyway, with you being negative."  

Suit me just fine.  I dropped him off.     Later on, he sent me a photo of my dog,  "she's so cute!" I figured he was trying to apologize in his way or testing the waters-

I'm not taking the bait.  

I talked with some friends to figure out where I was going wrong.  R pointed out, "Wait, wait...you didn't do something wrong-  HE's the one who is messing up with you, making you feel lousy, its all about him going 'me-me-me.'"  I got confirmation of what she said, from other friends, that's it's not me.  It was him, toxicity in the 'friendship.'  

For the last three weeks, I didn't contact him.   It never entered my mind 'til today, when I realized I'd need to get copy of my key from him (when he needed to use laundry occasionally.)   

I told him that I'll come by to get the keys back, when he said he'd come over. I told him no. I already stated that I will come by. He wanted to talk about his trip to college, how lonely he feels, blah, blah-  I stared at him and said, "I'm sorry to hear that you feel alone, but I don't see how that relates to me here getting my keys."  I told him due to what happened recently, I don't feel safe with him anymore, and that to keep his distance from me.  He was, of course, upset, raging "You'll be sorry!  People don't like you!"  I looked at him, shrugging before getting into my car.  I know one thing for sure- he's out of my life, permanently.  And good riddance to that.  

End of this toxicity.    

The geek in me, just had thought of this movie "Aliens", and Hicks (my favorite hero) saying something very simple about ensuring the end of Aliens (nuking the site invaded by Aliens).  

Yes, that means I'll still deal with social isolation especially with parent friends in town, that speak my language.  Harder to find childfree or CNBC folks who can sign...  I can still talk with childfree/CNBC friends on Facebook, email or phone.  

But you know what? I'd rather have that than dealing with a toxic 'friend'.   

Back on board!

Had been away for a long while, due to being sick and taking a self care 'vacation' for a few days.   Due to it being October, there is a mixture of sorrow (miscarriage anniversary, the tumor, and several traumatic anniversaries) and joy (bonfires, colorful leaves, costumes, haunted houses, Halloween/Samhain), I knew I needed to be away from everything, including reading others blogs.

I didn't want to think about my childlessness; I didn't want to recall what led me onto this path. I didn't want to relive the grief and confusion.

I wanted to live in the present.  And that's what I did for the last few days.

Gone to Cobb's Haunt, which is a corn maze, with zombies jumping out among cornstalks, grabbing at you.

Cobb Haunt Vignette (from Joseph Phelps)

http://www.jguessphotography.com/blog/2010/07/05/cobbs-haunt/  picture by Jami Guess

You can get an idea what it's like walking in the corn maze... NO lights (except for strobe lights here and there)..I took advantage of the full moon-  took me 32 minutes to get out!  I have to see if I can do that again- that is if Cobb Haunt is open this Halloween (It's my goal to do three places all on one day!)

I went fishing- I hadn't done that for a long while, and so I caught two bluegills.  I hadn't caught that kind before, so I had to google up if there were recipes to determine if I can cook 'em or not.   I also went to a spa to treat myself to a body massage, pedicure and manicure.  I needed that for a long while.

And there were absolutely nothing to do for some days, and I LOVED that.  Freedom to read, catching up on movies, and doodling and painting.

I took my dogs to a pet supply store for their Howl-oween costume contest.  Due to Derby being popular around here, Hairy had a jockey on him! Lola went as a bumblebee-  Sweet Sweet Lola! 

We all got some awesome treats despite that neither had won- but that's all right.  I got to show off my furry kids in their costumes..and had gotten some ideas for next year- perhaps Star Wars or Walking Dead theme.  

Oh that reminds me-  everyone got a kick out of my t-shirt that I wore while walking through the corn maze and the dog contest.  "Walking Deaf"

Nowadays I feel pretty much  human, and it's easier to handle triggers, especially with babies and pregnancy. I recently had talked with friends about Pennsylvania news of a guy being arrested for rubbing a pregnant woman's belly, and there was no pangs of hurt in my heart.    

That tells me that I'm doing it right my way during the journey.  

Children of Elfquest

I am taking a page from Jody Day's Gateway Women blog, especially the tradition of identifying childless role models (such as Georgia O'Keefe, an artist, and Susan Anthony, a civil right activist), to give my own childless heroes a well-deserved recognition, and of their contribution to the world, the geek world, that is.


That would be Wendy and Richard Pini, the creators of Elfquest. What is Elfquest?  It's a comic book that came to life in 1978, of a story about elves (certainly not your Santa Claus elves or Tolkein's elves) trying to survive and find their place in a two-moon world, after their ancestors were stranded on the unwelcome world.  The main characters include Cutter, the 11th chief of the Wolfriders (yes, the tribe members literally ride upon wolves and live in the woods); Skywise, Cutter's best friend/blood-brother (and smart-ass, if you ask me), and Leetah, the healer for the Sun Folks (another group of elves who are peaceful and living in the desert.)

Skywise and Cutter

 (copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

The story wasn't limited to them, tho; there is a community of other characters, from the treeshaper Redlance to the glider Aroree, to trolls Pickaxe (yup, you read that right- *giggle*), and to preservers that could pass for winged fairies and humans aren't forgotten either. They range from enemies to an human daughter adopted by elves. War, love, death, life struggles and joy, laughter and tears, and philosophy could be found on pages, giving one awareness of worlds beyond what we see.

For me, Elfquest was a lifesaver.  

In 1984, I was a teenager, in a new house, in a new state, new school, away from everything familiar to me. Even more when you get to think about me being deaf, furthermore isolated and bullied.    I plummeted into depression.

It was one of those weekends I had to go with mom to her work on a Saturday.   There was a newspaper stand, that had a limited selection of books and a rack of comic books nearby.  So I was peering at the rack of comic books for something to keep myself busy while mom was working upstairs.  Used to see covers of Spider-man and Batman, I was surprised to see an unusual cover of  a group of pointed-eared humanoids, walking across a desert.  

( Elfquest copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

What struck me was their desperation.  Walking in an hostile environment that can bring death to them.  You would presume that one on the cover is already dead.    I opened the comic book, reading about the elves losing their home to a fire, and of choosing to walk the desert, not knowing if there would be cool dark woods on the end.  They took a gamble on an unfamiliar object that Skywise (turned out to be an lodestone) acquired in the caverns of the trolls. I was so mesmerized, drawn into the world. The colors, the words, the pictures, I was lost in the sphere and I welcomed the depth of the story that swallowed me.   

I was startled awake when a hand laid on my shoulder, shaking me, and I looked up, blinking in an attempt to adjust myself back to the harsh reality to see that it was mom. She was telling me it was time to go home and to put away the comic book.  I begged for her to buy the issue for me; she refused as usual.  Images flew through my mind while I was staring out the window in the car; Cutter worried about his injured tribe member; Skywise's confidence in his lodestone even that he only got it a few hours ago; and the doubt on whether the tribe would survive the walk through the desert, with two wolf deaths.  They may be a tribe, but they were also a family.

I wanted to be one of that family.  I forgot that I had a plan to kill myself that night.  

Instead, I was considering wildly on how to gain all that Elfquest issues, knowing that mom  wasn't keen on me reading comic books.  It was a week later when we went to WaldenBooks (anyone remember that book chain?), I found that Elfquest are available in graphic novels!  I was freaking out- "I MUST have those!"    After convincing mom that I'd do all my chores without complaining for 30 days, she is to get me all graphic novels she could find.  You can picture anyone a parent would think to herself, chuckling "that kid won't go through, it won't happen."   

I did do all my chores, even extra ones without complaining!    On the 30th night, I reminded mom of our agreement, showing her the calendar with checked days, that she had to get all the graphic novels. 

Mom knew she was beat.  

After floating through the school day, waiting impatiently at home, and peering outside to see if mom had arrived, my heart was pounding.  I was right there at the door when mom came in, and I exclaimed, "wherearemybooks?!"  She handed me a Waldenbook bag, in which I quickly drew two graphic novels, Elfquest Books 2 and 3.  After being told that the two others (1 and 4) weren't there (of course, I grumbled!), and rushing through dinner, I ran to my bedroom to devour the books.  

(Elfquest copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

It was basically in the wee hours of the morning (3 o'clock if you have to know) when I looked up, dazed, finished with the second book (Elfquest Book 3). 

A spark was lit in my soul. 

I wanted to live.

If the elves can survive the challenges, so can I.  If the elves could live through hardships and still live day by day with eyes of joy, so could I.   I drew hope from the illustrations, breathed in perseverance and courage from the characters, and welcomed life.   I wasn't alone anymore. 

When I found myself forgotten and bruised from bullying, I opened the book to remind myself, Winnowill (a villain) tried to control the Wolfriders because they were different. Humans tried to erase them from existence. The elves refused to be victims, and so I had the choice too, to refuse being a victim.  I refused to tolerate bullying; I spoke up.  Bullying stopped, (and hitting one back, certainly did help.)    

When I felt darkness of depression upon me, I buried myself under the blanket, with a flashlight and the ragged-corner books, welcoming me back to the two-moon world. 

It took two another years before I finally got the Book 4, and another year for the Book 1 (I know I should have started with Book 1, but damn, that was always out!)  My beloved Grandma managed to find a copy, Book 1, for my Christmas gift- the best present ever!  

I must make a confession. In a few years later, I was a college student, aspiring to meet Wendy and Richard one day. I was visiting an interpreter friend who lived in Poughkeepsie.  I was telling her about Elfquest, and of my dream, adding that the couple was living in the same town.  You know what she did?  She asked me for the address- I kept saying "No, no that'd be RUDE of me to show up at the door...! They would think me an insane stalker!"  

Next thing I knew, I was at the door, dragged out of the car by the friend, to the door.  I stood there, frozen in excitement and terror.  The friend prodded at me "go ahead, ring the doorbell." I was overcome with racing thoughts: "ohcrapohcraptheyaregoingtocallcopsonmeohcrapohcraptheyaregoingtothinkmecrazy!" 

So she pushed the doorbell.  

Then, Richard was there.  It had been over fifteen years ago, and I still remember vividly to this day, his curiosity about two strange women standing front of him, both signing with hands (although one was voicing for me).  The friend had to poke at me to say something, in which I rushed out my name, where I came from, how much I love Elfquest, rambling all in one breath. Bless her heart, the interpreter friend managed to get it all out for Richard to understand what I said.  Richard took it all graciously and smiled, asking me if I'd like to come in.  Would I ever!!??

He showed me around in the place, the room where he was editing pages for Elfquest: Kings of the Broken Wheel.  He showed me how to put a speech balloon in a panel. He printed out an Elfquest cover with Cutter and Rayek in front, with Cutter saying "Hello, Julie!" and handed it to me.  I was drowning in awe. When I thought we would have to leave, Richard asked if we would like to meet Wendy. 

I was FLOODED, oh yes oh yes!   So we walked down the street, to a cute house.   We all entered, and Wendy was coming out of a room, smiling. I felt like a guest, with the gates to Elfquest just swung open to me. She showed me art she had done, which took over the room from floor to ceiling, and items that fans had sent to her, including two cloth dolls, Cutter and Skywise and a real elf-sized sword, New Moon, Cutter's sword! She encouraged me to pick it up, and it was surprising heavy yet light, and I was so delighted when I realized the pommel could be taken out, revealing the hidden key!  I rattled off many names, even minor characters, in which Wendy admitted she couldn't remember every single character and their names (that ought tell you how much  of this obsession was back then!).  I asked her even if there'd be a deaf elf, in which Wendy said there was, a mother of a major character.  I was glad to hear that, since as you know, dear readers, I'm deaf.  The interpreter friend's fingers were flying fast as I talked about how Elfquest changed my life, and how happy I was to meet with them at last. Richard and Wendy were wonderful hosts! 

Standing outside, waiting for the friend to unlock her car door, I was in a blissful mystification. She laughed and said "Now, are you sorry that I dragged you here?"   

So it had been 28 years since Elfquest entered my life, shifting the path from despair to life. 

This year, Elfquest is celebrating 35 years, with so many books, with a variety of artists and writers all in the two-moon world, but always watched fondly by Wendy and Richard Pini.   Thanks to Wendy, underground comics were growing popular (not of the Marvel or DC universes).  Their having a company of their own with the Elfquest story, independent of the mainstream comics, contributed to people aspiring to create their own stories, such as A Distant Soil, for one. There were so many comics that I couldn't include 'em all here.  And to add, Wendy was the ARTIST and writer with her husband being co-writer and editor, which was unusual in the 1970's.  Comic artists had always been men, until Wendy Pini's entrance into the comic book world (as Red Sonja- cosplay- which is another story! LOL) 

Now what does childlessness have to do with the couple?  They chose not to have children.  They chose to give life to characters in their mind, to put word of whispered stories onto pages,  and to introduce the two-moon world and the pointed-eared ethos to a world used to caped superheroes. So Elfquest was created...and shall we say "And they're off!"  One'd think that the couple would feel absence of children as they get older.  You'd be wrong.  

So many readers have seen themselves in the stories; many explained how Elfquest had affected them personally- even saving some lives (and mine). So many stories mirroring our lives in ways you could not imagine.   From the elves' story, we rediscovered humanity in ourselves, and rekindled hope in seeing what life can offer us, with new eyes.  So many of us have been inspired, that even some of readers are introducing their own children to Elfquest, giving the stories a new generation to live on.  

And that's where Wendy and Richard find their joy in.    As Richard said in this article "Elfquest- 35 Years and Beyond", after being told over and over by fans describing how Elfquest influenced their lives, even saving some of them, Richard said, "Any time someone says 'you inspired me' or 'you helped me'-- you're our kids.  You are our spiritual and creative and artistic and wonderful kids.  And thank you all for being that... You are now our family, our tribe."  

His quote helped me realize something- we do not have to rely on parenthood, to find our place in the world.  There are other ways to leave a mark on the world, as Georgia O'Keeffe did with her painting, Susan Anthony with her activism, and Wendy and Richard with their Elfquest.  There are other ways to be a family, a tribe, to raise and/or teach children and individuals. 

So from my heart, I thank you, Wendy and Richard.   You saved me and many, and in turn, you can trust that Elfquest will be safe in our hands, our heads and our hearts.  

( Elfquest copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

Stay mum or not.

I wrote this post six months ago- overlooked it it'til now.  Sorry about the delay.  

There was someone I have felt close to. She too dealt with infertility- the bottom line is that she said she had made peace with her infertility, not being able to be a mother; now she's in her early 60's. I have known her for more than fifteen years. I had looked up to her for many things, seeing her as a mentor for the religious path I have been on for over 20 years. Now on my childless path, I had looked up to her through the months going in and out of the hospitals, and when it struck me that I wouldn't be able to be a biological mother. I I still vividly remember when I was crying on phone, she said, "Go ahead and cry, cry it all out of your heart. Listen to me, don't obsess about it too long. Don't waste all your time on this. I got over it soon enough, and so will you." 

When I found myself still down 3 months after the hysterectomy, I started to think something was wrong. After 8 months, I was thinking "am I obsessing over it? Am I not letting it go?", drowning in self-guilt and self-doubt. It took reading blogs like Life Without Baby, The Road Less Travelled, Real Life & Thereafter, Serenity in Chaos, and books like "Silent Sorority" by Pamela Tsigdinos, "I'm Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to say No to Motherhood" by Lisa Manterfield, and "Unsung Lullabies: Understanding and Coping with Infertility" by Janet Jaff, Martha Diamond and David Diamond. There are more blogs and books that I could read, but to me, those blogs/books I listed are more significant- helping me realize that:

"Grief is not a straight path, it's a continual cycle, very much like a labyrinth with its countless turns and stripes short and long. Uphill, downhill, it's all that."

"Not everyone experiences infertility alike. No one walk the same path. Each person goes it her way, with individual coping, access to support, and courage on their own time."


That was the catharsis for me; I had to let go of my expectations and society's expectations on how I:

"should complete my grief,"
"should move on,"'
"should shut up, be quiet."

I have been an advocate for women power, Deaf community, HIV/AIDS education, awareness of child abuse, domestic violence, more, for long as I could remember. So, returning to advocacy, as a tool to help myself heal, while noticing how infertility, childlessness and childfree life are still overlooked and/or judged in society's eyes, I was thinking, Why not? This is something I can do. Empowering people and empowering me. I walk the walk, and I can say "have been there, done that- and I got this stinkin' T-shirt."

So in time, I would share a post or meme about infertility here and there on Facebook, occasionally...testing the waters.

Mostly, I'd get a few likes, two or three comments affirming or at least, asking how this happened to me and/or how they could help someone infertile in their family or among friends.  

I felt emboldened, to share some more posts, although I drew a line at 'oversharing' because even I don't want to focus on infertility alllll the time in my life. I keep a balance as possible, mostly advocating and supporting causes, (including fighting against domestic violence and oppressing women). I like to share positive memes, introvert memes and geek memes- What can I say? 

Anyway, there would be some dry weeks without a post about infertility, then 2-3 posts a week. I did notice when I would experience depression (trigger of pregnancy announcement, or a glimpse of a baby), I'd start looking at infertility and/or grief posts/articles to validate and comfort me, normalizing what I'm going through. From there I'd find a good article to share in goal of making the word infertility public; to share that infertility exists for someone in your life- if it's your sister, your cousin, your best friend, or your teacher. Or at least you know that you're not alone in this.

A day before Infertility awareness week, I was already 'down' due to a friend who had recently have her baby. I congratulated her about her son's birth and sent her a baby gift earlier that week. That's the best I could do, while hiding her (which I tend to do with friends/relatives- when they announce being pregnant, or going through pregnancy, I hide them. I say nothing. It's for my self preservation.) Anyway, looking forward to advocating awareness about infertility, I had already shared a article about how to be supportive to infertile friends earlier that week. That day, I noticed I had a private message from the dear friend. I was quite aghast of the horrid tone in the message, chewing me out for being open about my grief,, posting "8-10 posts about infertility DAILY", "taking up all her new feed with all negative posts", "it being a friggin' year of this." And right after that, she de-friended me.  

I was quite flabbergasted. I even had a friend check my page to see if I truly post infertile stuff "8-10 daily" as I said in one recent post; turned out that accusation wasn't true. I had to talk with a good friend who is also an IFer. More we talked about my response to the email, it drew upon me.

It wasn't about me. It was about the friend's own pain of her infertility.  

I tried to put myself in her shoes- back then there'd be not much support in 1980's. No support groups on Internet, or at least forums to talk it out. It would have been lonesome for her and other women back then. It might be presuming of me to say this, but it might be easier to sweep it under the rug, to pretend that it didn't hurt anymore. I could be wrong, although.

Me, I chose not to pretend that it was 'all fine'. After struggling thinking I should put a deadline on my grief, and learning I didn't have to. The journey is mine, not anyone else's.

I chose to face my grief, and I chose to be public about my childlessness/infertility- in goal of removing the sting of taboo, normalizing and shrinking sense of stigma from the word 'Infertility. More I speak up in advocating, more women (and men) have contacted me privately, thanking me for putting the spotlight on this issue. They are not ready to open their hurt to the world, yet they appreciate that they are not alone anymore.

So that led me to realize that the friend possibly experienced re-opening wounds of her infertility; maybe that she hadn't proceeded through her own grief. Hence, it's pretty easier for her to lash out at me outward, instead of looking inward of her own pain.

That furthermore led me to realize three things-

I had hid certain people who go through pregnancy, for self preservation.. Why couldn't she have hid me for her own preservation?

I moved some people to close friends or favorites, where I could see their posts while NOT seeing others' posts. Why couldn't she selected close friends in new feeds where she'd see their posts, not mine?

She could have de-friended me; well she did. After sending me that horrible email, that was. However, she could have done this all along before now then- why waiting a year and some to do so, doing it as a dramatic exit?

I don't know the reasoning behind this. I just wish she could have talked with me about her reactions, her perceptive about me sharing posts about the topic she is not comfortable with. The email's message was absolutely unnecessary. I feel sympathy for her, and what she had gone through; I also understand how she chose to face this devastating trauma. However, I am not definitely happy how she projected herself upon me, putting a deadline of grief/healing on me, and when I didn't, she chose to think that something was wrong with me. She forgot, I'm NOT who she is.

How I address my grief, how I choose to draw strength from advocacy and helping people, refusing to 'sweep under the rug', that is certainly not wrong for me.

That's the difference between her and me.

http://cdn.ebaumsworld.com/thumbs/video/1990574/82280914.jpg