No visits

I actually miss Aunt Flo.........  Y'all know she hadn't visited me since that surgery in February.

Does that make sense?

Procrastination

I have found it relaxing cleaning the house. I'd start doing one thing (usually turning dishwasher on or picking dogs toys off floor); I'd then find that I had completed everything (changing sheets, laundry, dusting, vacuuming, bathrooms and kitchen cleaned, dogs bathed and groomed, putting things away, etc) by the end of the day.  I also liked to do quilting and crocheting; I love to paint and draw.  I tended to take my dogs to the park nearby for a nice walk.  I'd stalk antique stores and flea markets for deals.  I walk the labyrinth for de-stressing and re-connecting myself to the world.

However.....

Lately, I have noticed a significant neglect for all that activities I listed. I have found myself more and more watching television, which is very unusual for me.   I don't even LIKE television- I consider it boring, but now it is something to escape to.  I don't have to do anything but sit on my arse.

 No energy, no motivation, nothing.  Procrastination is my best friend lately.

When I stop and think, "I need to clean the house", Blahh...

Pausing to say to myself, "Gotta walk the labyrinth,"  bleh...

Looking up from watching television, "Hmmm, the dogs look bored, I should take them to the park..."  blehh..

Peering at my pager to realize that it's dead, battery drained, and to realize the recharger is at the office. that I won't know if friends invited me to activities, I go "no big deal...I can recharge in my car..." Nah..

Blah.....Bleh..... Nahh..

http://www.alzinfo.org/12/blogs/keeping-hall-decking-simple/attachment/battery

Okay, that's an obvious symptom of depression which has to be addressed.

I had convinced myself and my psychotherapist that I am not depressed, but that I'm going through grief.   After all, one doesn't like to admit to being vulnerable to depression.

What helps me at this time is that I have read many infertility and childlessness blogs to realize that I am not alone.

I'm not alone in experiencing depression.

I'm not alone in dealing with procrastination.

I'm not alone in neglecting enjoyable activities, feeling guilt.

I'm not alone.

And it's okay to experience all this.



So I'm telling myself to deal with this day-to-day without adding guilt and shame.  I need to remind myself to set up  one goal each day, to make it easy instead of feeling overwhelmed.

That's a start.



With that in mind, I had just bathed Lola and Hairy-  they ain't happy.

photo owned by this blogger, Wolfers

Colors in the path

Walking the Georgetown labyrinth /DC 2009

I am sure some of you readers have noticed here and there, of me speaking of labyrinths (either walking or painting)...   Basically, labyrinths are a metaphor for walking meditation, either by finger or walking.  To keep this post short, here is Labyrinth 101, something to give you a basic understanding of what labyrinths are like.   Before you say something, no- mazes aren't the same as labyrinths.  Mazes are the puzzle, in which you encounter dead ends, many corners and split ways (think of the maze in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), while the labyrinth has one way in and out, in a graceful circle, in intent of helping you focus inward and stay in the moment.  If you have walked or observed labyrinths, you'd notice there's a variety of patterns from Cretan (simple) to Chartres pattern.

Many people use the labyrinth for a variety of purposes, to discover strengths within, answers, spiritual affirmation/support, to process stress or to re-connect with themselves.  I have seen women use the labyrinth to  learn to forgive and love themselves after experiencing domestic violence.  Children pace through the labyrinth to find creativity and to quiet the the hyper mental activity.  Elderly walk among the circle, to find peace within themselves.  And yes, the labyrinth is good for grief, as I realized, as another tool for me.

For years, I have walked labyrinths to consider choices in my life, including where to work and what to do next in my life; I walk to release stress and anger, as well as to find simple joy and relaxation.   It was only last year when I started to paint again after stopping as a young adult.  And I found labyrinths are as relaxing and enjoyable as I paint, in dazzling colors.  During the painting I found that I have my favorite pattern, Shepherd's Race (originated in Roman times), which is not commonly found- most labyrinths tend to be Cretan, Chartres, or Santa Rose.  And I found, very therapeutic in the aftermath of finding out I am childless not by choice.

I decided to use this opportunity to show some paintings I had completed- although I had not taken photos of a few (I forgot before I gave them to friends).

Each labyrinth has their own story.

Children's play, 

Heart's Journey 

Process into Mediterranean Tear

Mediterranean Tear (Shepherd's Run)

Process in Buddha's Flame

Buddha's Flame (triple pattern)

Process to Sunset Blvd

Sunset Blvd (Shepherds' Run)

All that had been done since last summer... 

I hadn't painted since November 2011 to February 2012, when I went in and out of tests about my uterus issues, including finding out that I can't have children- grief started then in December.  I had then painted one painting before the February surgery, which is this one.....

Roman Weeps (Chartres)

I had also completed one other labyrinth painting, but at this time, I'm not ready to share it with the world... 

The title- Stone of Womb

10 days after the surgery, I up and went to fetch art supplies without thinking. Completed in 7 hours, the labyrinth came out of my heart onto the canvas.  With tears of grieving and fingers of perseverance. 

Heavenway (Chartres) 

I do have intentions to paint more...I have some colorful spirals running loose in my mind.  Someday.  

"Go on, have a bite"

Tempting apple, isn't it?   So good, take a bite.

Last month, just two months after THAT surgery, one day I was feeling sorry for myself (too often that happened lately), and I was thinking again, "what about adoption?"

Why not look into it?    So I impulsively signed up for the Rainbow Kids, thinking at least I could get on the waiting list, and that'd give me time before they'd find children ....deaf/hard of hearing children- after all  not many countries (and even the United States) find children with disabilities desirable- "too much work to raise an handicapped child" I hear over and over throughout my life, yet I have worked with disabled children and adults- they can have full wonderful lives with support. Anyway, the time I'd need to look into adoption, especially the financial part, but how many could there be of deaf children waiting to be adopted, really? Not many.  So, plenty of time for me to focus on myself before I'd be ready.

In a week, I got an email letting me know of a possible child.

Puzzled surprise.  I went to look at the email, to find that there's a six years old deaf boy waiting to be adopted from China.

I stared at the email.   Suddenly, I felt pressured.  I felt like I was rushing into things too fast.  Guilt chased quickly up, "Aren't I leading them on, now I back off? Is that fair to the kid?"

I quickly deleted the email.   Shame was the dark cloud above my head for the rest of the day.

http://alamedadailynoose.blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html

Since then, I had gotten many emails from the website, of available deaf or hard of hearing children, waiting to be adopted from China, Turkey, Ukraine and Armenia, and many countries.  More I got, more I felt I'm over my head, more I felt guilty.  

So many children waiting to be adopted and I'm not ready!   

The apple looks so good but it's poisonous to me right now....  If I take a bite, I'm taking a bigger piece than I could swallow especially with the timing at this moment.  I am not ready to be selfless. I want to use the time to adjust to the new reality. Heck, I hadn't YET walked through the baby department without feeling wretched.  

So with a heavy heart, I unsubscribed. I reminded myself, while guilt beat me up with a baseball bat, "you're not ready. It's too soon."  

I pass on the apple, for now. 

Tattoo

There are some tattoos on my body, each one having a significant meaning to me.   Nevertheless, there is one tattoo I cherish all above others...

You see, I was in a relationship with someone back in Maryland several years ago.  By end of a few months, I was planning to break up with him due to verbal and emotional abuse.  I noticed my period did not show up in October.  I put that off to stress, especially with the guy and crazy hours at work.  By November, I was starting to wonder if I was pregnant.  I was experiencing some symptoms; nauseous (especially with some smells!), very sensitive breasts, and I had some severe headaches, beside missing my period for two months.

I was swinging forth and back between telling him, or seeing the doctor first to see if I was pregnant.  I was starting to bite my nails, wondering what to do if I was pregnant.  Was I ready?  Did I want the baby, especially with who the father is?  If I wanted to keep the baby, did I have enough support?  Would my family accept the baby?  So many questions running through my mind.  But I knew something, perhaps it is my chance to have a baby of my own.

One day after Thanksgiving, my dog alerted me to someone knocking at my door.  I opened it to see a very pregnant pretty woman.  She stared at me as I stared at her. Well, to make the drama short, the guy who was already at my place had to restrain her, after leaving bruises on me.  She made it very clear, by shouting, "I'm his girlfriend, this is his baby!"

You can imagine how flabbergasted I felt, stunned, shocked, dumbfounded, then betrayed,....and then relieved.  I told her, "you can have him back- I don't want him." She kept cussing at me, telling me that I stole him. Refused to listen that I did NOT know about her, nor her pregnancy/baby. NO one had told me about her.  I had absolutely no clue, and I felt angry at him but relieved that he can be out of my life. I turned to him, and told him, "Leave.   I don't want to see you again."

"I'll talk with you later, we'll talk about this."  He said

"We have absolutely nothing to talk about.  Out of here or I call cops."

He left with the very pregnant woman, belittling her all way to her car.


I was numb afterwards.  I had one thought, "What am I going to do?" as I petted my stomach.  A few days later, I decided- best thing is to find out if I was indeed pregnant- I called and set up a doctor appointment.

Two days before the doctor appointment, I noticed I was starting to spot.  I experienced cramps, and I started bleeding heavily, unusually heavy.  A friend stopped by, worrying about me since I did not reply to her calls.  She saw me, and said "we have to take you to the hospital. You're very pale, white really."


At the hospital, they checked.  I was indeed pregnant.  And I was having a miscarriage.


At the doctor's recommendation, I had a D&C, so I'd not have to suffer for a week, waiting it out.  I did not tell anyone, not even my best friend.  I did not want pity, or drama especially if this could have been passed on to the ex (especially with his pregnant girlfriend).  I just felt that if it was known, people would say, "she deserved it, she made him cheat on his girlfriend" or "God made it so because of the sin." There were a lot of folks that are like that that I knew.  So, I stayed mum.  

I named the baby, that the only gift I can give.


Several years later, I had this haunting image in my mind over and over, of a sleeping wolf cub. I wasn't sure why- it persisted.  I also found myself mesmerized with Luna moths, their wings, the eyes on their wings, the symbol of them- ease of movement in darkness/shadow, fertility, transformation, ability to find light in darkness. But I still wasn't certain why I found the wolf cub and Luna moth as an obsession.

During graduate school, I got a very strong urge to do something- but what?  What to do with the wolf cub?  Luna moths?

During a weekend, I went to New Hope with a dear friend.  We walked by a tattoo parlor, Living Arts Tattoo, and I saw beautiful tattoo artwork.

photo- Living ArtsTattoo, New Hope, PA

I suddenly knew what I had to do.

Back home, I gathered photos close to what I have seen in my mind, of a sleeping wolf cub and of Luna moths.   I brought them back to the parlor.   I asked the artist there, is it possible?

"Yes, I can do it."

He sent me a draft of the tattoo, by email a few days later.  I saw it, and I had tears in my eyes.  I was overjoyed.  I was sad.  I was excited.

I came to the Living Arts Tattoos with the friend, who wanted her old tattoo re-made into something else, a very beautiful flower.  Anyway, they asked me where I wanted it done, and I said, "behind my  right ovary area."

I would be a liar if I said it wasn't painful during the tattooing process.  There were moments I was tempted to say "Stop! Stop! No more!"  But I kept on; this pain is temporary, I told myself.

The artist was done, and he did great- but I was very much dazed by the pain.  The friend who came with me said the tattoo looked great, beautiful.  I just wanted to go home and see it again, without an audience.

In the privacy of home, I peeled the bandage off, and stared at the tattoo.

I wept.  I felt the spirit of the baby close, and I knew that's what was needed to be, for me to remember him in my way and in my heart, out on my skin, nearby.  

 Peace in love, Wolfe.  

first photo is from http://livingartstattoo.tumblr.com/

second photo is mine, you cannot copy it without getting permission from me.  

Echoes of emotions

Being Deaf all my life, I'm very much visual both in the external and internal worlds.  I'll do my best in explanations....

What I mean by that is when I feel, it is very much visual, instead of thinking 'words' in my mind.  When I ponder, it's very much 'seen' in my mind, very much like daydreaming and being present in the moment.   Now when I look around me, I'm quite a detail oriented; I observe the details around me in the environment and use an conscious effort to understand the causes, not effects only.

It is actually a task for me to think in visual, and then translate into words.  I use American Sign Language, which is a visual language, with its own syntax and grammar.  It has no written language, but it does exist among a majority of the Deaf community.   The two guys down there in the photos are poets using the American Sign Language to 'write art' in the air, hence the "Flying words".

http://now.dartmouth.edu/2010/11/american-sign-language-poets-of-the-flying-words-project-to-visit-dartmouth/

I admit sometimes it's hard to describe my emotions; which I find funny because, believe it or not, I'm a mental health counselor.   What helps me with connecting with  my own emotions is I rely on images and visuals to go "ah ha, that one is exactly what I feel like!"      Pininterest and Facebook friends are sure helpful thro, that they are often not aware on finding 'just right' pictures for me to nail on.

Now what I felt as last night, doubt in my painting and whether I am asking too much of myself; was it even okay to ask for compliments sometimes? (from one of my favorite web comics: Sinfest)

Another one from the same website, as this morning, not up to baby drama nor motherhood, don't even talk about the P-word.

As you can see, the artist seems to have a knack to 'interpret' my moods without my assistance.   

It'd be a good day if I can go though it without symbols of fertility  today.  

New Orleans

 New Orleans

New Orleans, how breath-taking you are.  How beautiful you are.  How lively you can be.  Laughter.  Passionate hugs. Music of sax and violin, jazz, blue and brass carrying on the air.  Breezes with scent of salt and chicory coffee.  Artwork and jewelry glittering in the sunshine. Ghosts whispering around the shuttered windows.  A path memorized for victims of a hurricane not yet forgotten.

New Orleans.  How much I miss it.  How much I felt so alive there.  Home.  How much I'd do anything to return there.  Some day I will be there and not leave.  There was a path I walked and I intend to walk there again.

A path was opened raw and new with the Hurricane Katrina slamming into New Orleans, August 29, 2005.  I was there in spirit with the Deaf community, suffering the trauma of Hurricane Katrina and flooding and then the double trauma of ignorance and abuse with being Deaf in the aftermath.  With my charm and determination, local people opened their hearts and gave what they can, from 'All from a Dream's comic books, Hampden Branch Library's books, to the local deaf community's donations of sheets, pans, hearing aids, TTYs, and kitchen supplies.  Despite my own trauma that occurred almost two months after Hurricane Katrina, I wanted to make sure that the survivors got their packages.  They did. The path was completed.

There was a labyrinth built at the Audubon Park, built a year after Hurricane Katrina, to remember the dead, the lost.  The labyrinth was built with hearts heavy with grief and lightened bit by bit with perseverance and joy, completed with tears and love. I knew I needed to walk the labyrinth.  When? How?  I did not know.  I waited.

A path was opened with a surprising offer.  I jumped to the opportunity with dearest friend, traveling to New Orleans. Sassy juice and rowdy laughter between us.  Among ghost-hunters and demon-slayers, I found fellow spirits.  Hearts alike to me, minds open, some went along on the path, both in packs and by the lone wolf.  Among the confusing roads to Audubon Park, the labyrinth was hidden among the oaks with moss spilling into the grass.

The labyrinth is there.   Awaiting.  Waiting for my foot to step on it.    I shook my sandals off, letting the bare feet kiss the smooth stones that create the labyrinth.  The breeze bringing the life, the ghosts and the stillness interacting together.   A blank journal opened with fingers and a pen traveling from path to paper.

Where do I go from there?

I feel in limbo here- sunshine and clouds playing peek-a-boo- there are ant hills, silence in nature, sun so bright.  So many branches, twigs and leaves gracing the stones. The path is open- the stones are cool beneath my steps.  Barefoot to Mother Earth.  To feel Her heartbeat, I am in her womb of stone.  Growing and bidding my time, my breathing, knowing there is time for me  I need to be patient and to watch and watch.  It is not yet for me to act.  The Nature is connected here- the fire, the air, earth, water and spirit- breezing loving upon me.

Where do I go from here?

Wait. Wait. It is not your time- your time is not here in New Orleans- not yet.  Go learn, go love, go explore.  Not yet in New Orleans.

Go to school. Seek your place among students, you will be a teacher, both in the classroom and out. You will teach life you will give hope and presence in the speedy path of people.  Teach them to slow down, to smile, to embrace.

You have a world of love, trust and strength awaiting you.  Challenges and tears await you.  Heart break and grief awaits you.

Where do I go from there?

Grow.  Walk the path, wipe your tears away.  You do not stay where you live.  It is not your heart. It takes joy out of you.  You are on the bridge, looking down at the water wondering when you let go and go into the cold water.  It is not your time.

Where do I go from here?

Go back to school.  They will take you.  Trust in them.  Trust in Me.  Trust in love.

Where do I go from there?

Patient, patient.  You are impatient.  You let worry block you.  Your fear of stepping on the wrong foot.  Stop.  Chill.  Trust yourself.  Love yourself first.  Trust in the spirits.  There are spirits looking upon you- they are here with you as We are.  You are closer to them than you think.  They will protect you, you can see and listen to them if you open your heart.  Accept what is given to you, keep holding the hands, let them guide you as they have been guiding you since your first death.

Where do I go from here?

Go back to school. Life rich in experiences and love is at hand only if you stay on the rocky path. You have more tools than you think.  Trust in them.  Look with your hands, your eyes, your heart.  They are there only if you look.Look at the sunshine. Feel the wind!  Feel the bug biting your arm.  Feel the hard stones beneath your toes.  The green grass dancing in the breeze.  The curve of the path as it should be in your life.  Long and short  They are lessons for you if you listen to your heart and slow down.

Where do I go from there?

People, who will love and hate you.  Love wins.  Great loss, breath stolen from you. Heart bleeding.  Many will slow you down.  Patience.  Patience.  Believe in yourself. We believe in you. Keep going, the path is not  of anger.  You are not tied.  You are not trapped.  Trust yourself and we are there for you.  You well know what you see when you see.  You are on the journey. The curves, long and short, that is life.  No short cuts awash for you.  You suffer, and you love.  You cry and you live.

Where do I go from here?

Take yourself.  Walk.  Seize what is offered.  Now remember, remember, we will be with you as always.  Remember us.

I remember.  And I hold the lessons close to my heart, and is preparing to step on the new path.



As written during the walk on the labyrinth, March 25, 2011.
http://www.labyrinthataudubonpark.org/

All photos were taken by me on March 25, 2011.