Reflection

I've been mulling this post over in my mind for several days, since my great-aunt's birthday. I wanted to give this topic the thought and time that it deserved; that she deserved.

Every child should have someone special in their lives, someone that makes them feel important. For me, this person was my dad's aunt. She was not related to me by blood, because my dad isn't my biological father. But, as I've stated in previous posts, he's my dad and she was really more than just a great-aunt to me. She was my special someone.

I remember when I was young, we used travel from California to Oregon to visit her on her ranch. She and my uncle had chickens and cows and lots of fun places to play. My brother and I would go play in the hay in her barn and chase the chickens around the ranch. I can still remember the smell of that hay and that barn to this day, and I smile thinking about the fun we had there.

She was married to a man's man. He had a handlebar mustache, smoked cigarettes and drank whiskey on the rocks. I remember a picture of him in his younger days, wearing a leather jacket, standing next to his motorcycle. He was the epitome of cool. There were also pictures of my aunt, looking very glamorous in her 1940's pencil skirt and sweater set. I imagine that they were the jet setters of their day. She was a career gal, and he was a manager, that is, when they weren't traveling the world. I remembered them to be very much in love, which is quite a statement considering how young I was at the time.

When they traveled the world, my aunt would find pen pals my age for me from other countries. She'd also buy me a charm for my charm bracelet from her travels. I recently moved all of those charms to a new bracelet and have started adding charms from my own travels.

My uncle died suddenly when I was 12, and so I stayed with her for the summer so she wouldn't be alone. They never had any children of their own and she was in her late 50's or early 60's at the time. That's when I really got to know my aunt. That summer I learned a lot of things, including the fine art of playing blackjack and how to shuffle cards. Considering the ultra-religious household I was raised in, this was guilty fun for me.

I remember finding her cigarette holder, the kind that women used back in the day to smoke their cigarettes. It looked so glamorous to me and I was so fascinated by it, so of course, my aunt smoked a cigarette in it just to make me giggle. I most likely swooned too. I was 12, after all.

That summer I was able to watch a calf being born. It was amazing and something I'll never forget. I also got to run from bulls. I used to climb over the fence and antagonize the bulls until I could see that I got their attention, then I'd run and climb back over the fence. That fun ended when my aunt explained to me that the bull wouldn't necessarily stop at the fence. In case you're not aware, 12 year olds are the smartest animal on the planet.

My time at the farm was also the summer that I 'became a woman'. Good Lord, that was humiliating. Bless her heart, she had no idea what to do with me so she took me to the pharmacy and told the pharmacist in front of what seemed to be a hundred people of my new status. He loaded us up with lots of supplies while I tried not to look at anything or anybody. To add insult to injury, she told everyone who came over to her house about the "good news". Maybe back in her day that was something to be celebrated, but I wasn't in the mood to announce it to the world.

I had lots of wonderful experiences that summer, and to this day the smell of bacon, coffee and cigarettes takes me right back to when I was 12. I'm probably the only person who loves that smell, but I needed that summer. I needed, really needed, to get out of the environment that I was living in.

Shortly after that summer, my aunt moved to a condo about 10 minutes from our house. I am not sure if I'd be the person I am today, or really, I'm not sure that I'd even exist today if she hadn't of lived so close. I visited her often, and she made sure to let me know how special I was. Not just special to her, but special. I remember she told me one time that she wanted to be my special someone because she knew that I needed that. She also told me that we needed to keep that a secret from my mother. And I did. It's a secret that I still keep to this day.

My aunt was the only person in my life back then that gave me unconditional love. She was my cheerleader, and no matter what I decided to do, she supported me. She always seemed so proud of me and seemed to really "get" me and love me for who I was. This is probably one of the reasons that I'm such a big advocate of children. I want every child to feel special.

Our relationship remained close, and after I moved to another state we wrote to each other at least once a week and we talked on the phone often.

She bought my children their first books, and continued to send them money to pick out their own books once they were old enough to make choices for themselves. I made sure that my children, even though they didn't know how to spell anything, wrote her thank you notes. I'd ask them what they wanted to say and then I'd write it down and they'd copy it. Or, they'd try to at least. I'd usually have to translate.

Fast forward to when my ex-husband left me. It was probably one of the darkest and scariest times of my life, and trust me I've had many. What made it more scary than any other time was that I was now responsible for two little lives. There I was with two little boys (4 and 5), and my ex-husband had cleaned out our checking account and had left the bills at least 2-3 months past due. He'd spent all of our money on his girlfriend. Not only did my aunt send me enough money to catch everything up, she called me on the phone every night. I remember clearly sitting on the floor in my kitchen after the boys were in bed, talking to my aunt and hearing, and more importantly believing that she'd be with me always. No matter what. And she was.

My aunt had a collection of tea cups. She told me that when she got up in the morning, she'd decide who she was going to have coffee with and pull their tea cup from the shelf. She'd then drink her coffee from that cup and think about that person. She drank coffee with me the last day of her life.

When my dad's sister went to her condo after my aunt died, she found my teacup in the sink unwashed. She sent me the unwashed tea cup along with all of the letters I'd ever written my aunt, bundled in a large rubber band. What a gift that was.

I am so thankful that she sent the cup to me in that condition. Somehow, my aunt knew that seeing the last remnants of my special someone would mean a great deal to me. It took me months before I finally washed her lipstick off that teacup.

Now, I have a tea light candle in her tea cup and whenever I need her, I just light the candle. I instantly feel peace and somehow I just know that she's surrounding me with the comfort that I need, just like she always has.

I’m going to totally cop out here and post a couple of MeMe’s just so you don’t think that I’ve fallen off the face of the earth. Every creative brain cell that I have has been directed into my job. Every ounce of energy too, really. Any energy I have left goes to hubby. Guess what suffers? My blog!

So, with that, I give you MeMe number 1:

Surely you must be tired of reading about the snake. I know I'm tired of living it. This situation has invoked such a strong reaction in me that I am absolutely sure there is a lesson buried in here somewhere. I want to let all of this go, but I can't until I understand what it is that I need to learn here. Maybe it'll come to me as I write all that has happened in the last 24 hours. Or, if you can stand to hang on until the end of the post and it seems clear to you, please share your insight with me. Really, I can be rather dense at times and I'd sure like to get this lesson over with.

I met with my manager yesterday morning to try to get this whole thing resolved. I didn't bash the snake in this meeting, because it's not my style. I simply stated facts. The end result was one in which I was not comfortable, but I was not prepared for this outcome therefore I didn't have a response.

It's been a very long time since I've worked for someone who has the technical knowledge that I have. Generally, my managers have been people who have the other half of my skill set. My managers like me because I can speak both languages. They also like me because they don't have to get involved in my daily activities. I just do my own thing and get a lot of work done. I've liked this too, and it hasn't really caused me many problems until now. If I had a manager with web design background, I'm certain that the outcome of this meeting would have been different. My manager doesn't have this background and doesn't understand that web design and layout is a skill set. It's not a matter of slapping information on a page.

Additionally, even web designers don't always make good decisions. Sometimes they're just order takers. They do what the client tells them to do, rather than listen to why the client wants something. I'm a good listener and that has been good for my clients. They may say they want something, but in fact, they really wanted something completely different. They just weren't aware of what could be done. I take a lot of pride in the fact that I'm able to really hear what my clients want, and then deliver it.

Since the snake is responsible for communication plans, my manager feels that it's OK for the snake to do layout, or at least be the last word. My manager feels that the snake has a vision with his plan, and it's my job to make that vision a reality. I'd agree with my manager if the snake had a web background, but he doesn't. I have heard many comments from the team that used to work with him about how difficult he was to work with because he "just didn't get it", yet insisted that it be done his way.

After pondering the meeting outcome for a while, I sent my manager an email telling him that I wasn't comfortable with the outcome of our meeting and I'd like to discuss it further. I indicated that the idea of the snake having the final say in web pages didn't make a whole lot of sense to me given our skill sets. The good news is that my manager is very open to talking about it some more.

During the last 24 hours, I've thought a lot about my strong reaction to the situation and several interesting things happened. It's almost as if I'm being pelted with a hailstorm of information, but I'm unable to understand what it all means.

I thought seriously about job hunting, but dammit, I love my job. I also weighed the pro's and con's of quitting this job in my head. The con list was much longer than the pro list.

Con: Would have a difficult time finding a job to allow me to telecommute more than half the week; it'd be hard to find a salary to match what I'm making now; I love my job; I really REALLY like my clients; I have a lot of freedom to learn new things. Really, the list is huge.

Pro: I'd be rid of dealing with the snake.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand that quitting my job would be plain stupid.

Here are the other events, innocuous by themselves, but added together makes me feel that there is something behind it all:

1. The manager of the team that I send work to sent me this message and copied my division executive: "I just want to thank you for always being flexible when dealing with all of the changes to [company intranet] and for quickly adapting to them and putting them into practice. It makes my life a lot easier and your Web sites more user friendly. Thanks for being so easy to work with!" She has no knowledge of went down that day. This came completely out of the blue.


2. I got this email from one of her employees, whose last day is today: "It has been a joy and a privilege to work with you. I wish you the best of everything for both work and personal life. You are someone I highly respect and have learned a great deal from you about keeping it real while maintaining a sense of humor."


3. And three more email messages from clients thanking me for always being on top of things, listening to their needs, and delivering their product on time.

All of this happened in 2 business hours. HOURS. On a day that I felt defeated.

I am resigned to doing whatever my manager wants me to do. I really am. He's a great guy and I want to keep the good relationship that we have. I also want show him that I do appreciate the perks that I have, and if that means that I have to do the snake's grunt work- then so be it. I don't see where being cooperative will take me down a bad path. Perhaps this will give the snake enough rope to hang himself.

I will have the last conversation with my manager about the situation and then I'll accept the outcome and I'll change my attitude about this whole thing. Life is too short for turf wars, ya know?

With that, I leave you with this lesson for the day. Keep watching until the lesson of the day message comes up....



Signed,
The cat

Yesterday while making my Hospice calls, I had an encounter that made me cry.

I work very hard at keeping my emotions in check when talking to the families of those that have passed on, and I do a really good job of it. Some of the calls that I make are very painful to hear, especially for someone like me. I feel that I was blessed (or is it cursed?) with an extra dose of empathy for other people and I sometimes can literally feel the pain coming from the other end of the phone.

This is one of the reasons why I'm glad that we're not supposed to do much of the talking. We're just there to listen. Sometimes the lump in my throat feels like a grapefruit and I know that there is no way I could talk at any great length without exposing my emotions.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Before I make a call, I review the file to pull out pertinent information, such as what the deceased did for a living, what their interests were, how long they were suffering, how many other relatives were involved in their care, etc. Some files have several calls to make, upwards of 4-5 calls in regard to the same person. Between what I've learned in the file and what the family members tell me, I get to know that person who passed on very well. This is one of the things that I love about doing this; I love hearing people's stories. There are so many interesting things about the people around you, if you will only take the time to listen.

Yesterday, I made a phone call to the son of a woman who passed on in early January. The woman had lingered for a very long time. A woman answered the phone, so I asked if I could speak to (son of patient). She asked me who was calling and I told her my name and that I was calling on behalf of Hospice Bereavement Services. Her voice started quivering as she told me that (son of patient) had recently died. She answered yes when I asked her if she was his wife. At that point, I quit being Hospice Bereavement Services, and just became a voice on the other end of the phone. I shut the file so I could concentrate on what she needed to tell me. It was no longer about our patient and her son, so she was not a "client". She was just another human being who needed to talk to someone. She shared some memories of their life together with me, and that seemed to bring her comfort. She went on to tell me that her husband went very quickly, and she felt it was because of how long his mother had lingered. This was just another testament to how much control people have over their own death experience.

When I hung up the phone, I cried. Maybe it was the surprise of calling for someone who had died that caught me in this emotional state. I don't really know. I started thinking about hanging up my hat for the day, but instead I challenged myself to move past whatever caused these unexpected and uninvited emotions. I had a strong feeling that I wasn't done for the day and there was someone else I needed to call. So, I got up and opened the door leading to the garden in the middle of the Hospice House, sat on a bench and listened to the birds for a while.

It was my original plan to make four hours of calls and then leave at 2pm. After I was able to pull myself back together I made another hour of calls. When I looked at the clock and saw that it was now 1:45, I knew I was on my last file. I also knew that as long as I didn't get on an call with someone experiencing extended grief issues, I would be able to make it out of there by 2pm.

I opened up the last file for the day and saw that this patient had a husband and a daughter to call. The first phone call, to the husband, was brief. "I'm OK." "Yes, I've been reading the information you've sent." "I'm OK." The call was very brief, less than 5 minutes.

Then I called the daughter. When I asked her how she'd been doing these past few weeks, she never talked about herself. She only talked about how her dad needed support and how she was working very hard at taking care of him. Whenever I'd try to bring the conversation back around to what SHE was feeling and what she was doing for HERSELF, it became apparent that she was having a difficult time understanding that this call was to support her, not her dad. Eventually she allowed herself to be supported by me and then she admitted that she needed help with her grief but added that she didn't want to "be a bother".

I reminded her that just as she has been such a wonderful support for her father, she also needed to allow someone to support her.

It was then that I knew why I didn't end my calls after the call that had me in tears. I was talking to myself, just as much as I was talking to the person on the other end of the phone.

She agreed to a follow-up call from the counselor, but I'll never know if she really *heard* what I was saying. My relationship with the family stops the moment I hang up the phone.

*I* heard what I was saying, and I'll just hope that she did too.

There were several comments from people who were concerned about my statement that "I was in a lonely place" in the post about the suicide of my biological father. I wanted to explain the thoughts behind that statement, because I don't want anyone to worry that I feel "alone". I read through this post to proof it and started to delete it, thinking that this was way too self-absorbed, but I stopped myself because this is MY real estate. I sometimes write here to sort out my feelings, and if it helps someone else in the process that's even better. So, if you're not up for a bunch of not so risible reflections, I'd suggest moving along.

End of disclaimer.

The 'lonely place' and alone feelings didn't have so much to do with not feeling that I had a lot of support around me, because I do. I'm very blessed with a rich support system of people who are willing and able to step in and help me. I do not tap into that support system because I habitually handle the negative things in my own head, be it successful or not, and I've been that way for as long as I can remember. I'll go as far as to share the information about a situation, but I pull the brakes on the conversation when it comes to sharing how I feel about the situation. Most of the time it's because I do not really know how I feel or, more typically, I haven't given myself permission to feel. This only applies to the negative feelings. I am the first and loudest to vocalize my positive feelings. If I love someone, or am appreciative about something someone did, there is no question in anybody's mind how I feel.

Friday, I was in a place where I didn't feel comfortable in expressing my sadness because it didn't feel appropriate to me and I couldn't justify it in my head. Not surprisingly, I don't have anyone in my life that has had this same experience. Nobody who could tell me how they *felt* when it happened to them. Knowing someone who might be able to help me understand what I'm feeling is important to me because long ago I became so good at hiding my feelings that I've truly forgotten what many emotions feel like. The negative ones anyway. So, I seek out others who are in similar situations so they can tell me how they felt and try that feeling on "for size". This disconnect with my own feelings hasn't kept me from being deeply empathetic with other people, and I'm very grateful for that. I always had hope that since I could connect with what other people are feeling, then I'd eventually be able to understand my own feelings.

So, now comes the explanation for the title of my post: When the student is ready to learn, the teacher will appear.

I've always believed this in principle, but yesterday as I contemplated the timing of events over the past several months, I became acutely aware of it. The most recent event was the icing on the cake. I could really make quite a few cases for the title of my post, but the case of learning of my father's suicide is exactly what this is about. He killed himself on November 14, 1993, yet I just received this news on Friday.

This situation, like many of the others I've experienced in the past few months, took me through the recurring thought pattern of:

• "I think I'm feeling this, but I'm not sure."


• Then, "I'm not sure I'm supposed to have this feeling".


• Then, "Since I'm not sure that I'm supposed to feel this, I'm not sharing how I feel with anyone".


• And then it ultimately turned into the one I've become intimately familiar with, "How dare I have these feelings when it might possibly take away from something someone else might be feeling right now?"

Yeah, that little four ring circus in my head is a lot of fun....... all it needs is clowns and balloons.

This lesson? I believe it is to learn to comprehend what my feelings are, then acknowledge that I have a right to those feelings. I do not need to justify my feelings or compare them to someone else's feelings whether the situation was exactly the same, similar or nothing like mine. It doesn't matter. While I understand all of this in theory, I still need to learn how. Interestingly enough, I already started taking steps toward that three weeks ago. The timing of this is nothing less than exquisite.

Was I ready for this lesson twelve years ago? The answer to that question is a resounding NO. The other lessons I seem to be learning these past few months are things that I wasn't prepared for even after I made some very positive life altering changes almost five years ago. There are lessons that had to wait until I had a very solid support system. A place where I felt safe and protected. A place where I was with someone that I trusted to stand by me; someone that I didn't feel that I needed to protect.

I am now in that safe place and am ready to learn. Bring it on, teacher.