Author: Melody Harrison Hanson

I’m an overthinker and incessant seeker. I’m grateful for God’s grace. I write poetic thoughts and offer original photographs. I hope you will stay and read for a while. All photography and words are mine unless noted.

Flow of Consciousness – 2

Unlikely AM thoughts.  I’m home with two sick kids, one whining, one enduring, and I am so frustrated with the whiner!!!! She’s refusing to take her antibiotics. Can kids do that? She’s so eleven.  So I may have to end this suddenly!

About yesterdays entry:  Thanks for all your emails.  Wow.  A rush of support and friendship which I am so grateful to receive.  At times I feel kind of stupid for being so vulnerable and then I remind myself this is me.   Though I don’t want this, it doesn’t mean I’m incompetent or undesirable or unlovable or unhirable (technically not a word, but you know what I mean) or unwhatever.

It’s just me, complicated, kind of a mess some days, but really okay so many others.  And I’ve come to understand that perhaps my words can help; I know it helps me, but maybe it will also help someone else.

With two kids home sick at this point, I am marooned and thereby forced to get a few things done like take down the Christmas tree (no, it’s not down yet!) and balance the family budget (not done since before the holidays – yikes – and was keeping me awake last night) and sort out what to eat for dinner. Planning ahead helps with the “moods” and actually plowing us out from a big snowy dumping this AM helped a lot too.  That fresh air and exercise was brilliant!

Today I am thinking and will get back to you later.

Flow of Consciousness – 1

1/11/09 It is stunning that it is mid January already.

It is a fine time as any to reflect on the past few weeks. My house is quiet. I have my youngest snuggled in against me as he “can’t sleep” (after five minutes of trying) and I’m a sucker for cuddles.

The holidays were really a blur ending with the death of a friend that has thrown me in major ways.  But I just can’t process that yet.

We had lots of family, mostly at our place, which was actually fine and quite fun to cook. I baked a lot and remembered how much I love to bake: pies and cakes, and many meals including crepes for Christmas morning.  Most memorable was baking and decorating Christmas cookies with the kids which I’ve decided to turn into an annual tradition it was so much fun and the kids were literally giddy!  I have tons of good memories, mostly centered around sharing food.  But I missed not seeing two of my sisters, their kids and husbands.  My sister Tonya has a new son Daniel whom I haven’t yet met.  I hate that we live such a distance from one another and right now are too “poor” to travel.

It really wasn’t an issue not drinking. I’m not sure if it was because it isn’t around (Not much anyway; some people still drink around me and that’s cool. It’s just that a few of my friends that I sometimes drank with are not around, but that’s another story. I get a pit in my stomach every time I think of it.) Or is rather simply because I’m at a place in my abstinence where it isn’t an issue. I’m not so naive that I believe I’m done with it being an issue, but at least for this holiday I felt okay about it.

I am feeling my age and you can see it in my face, puffiness around the eyes and age spots, wrinkles.  And gray hair, though you can’t see that in this image.  I am carrying extra pounds that haunt me and make me feel old, make my knees hurt on the stairs and just make me plain lazy.  My TMJ is acting up again, just like last Christmas strangely enough. It must be some internal stress that manifests at night, as I dream I clench my jaw causing it to ache in the daytime. And ache in the evenings when I am reading to my kids so that by the time I am done it’s throbbing.  But I won’t give that up, I enjoy it too much! We’re reading the Narnia series and it’s so terrific to read aloud. I do have a good memory of my dad reading that series to us when I was around that age.  Anyway, I suppose it’s time to visit a specialist for the TMJ.

My depression has held itself at bay for a long while, but reared its ugly head at Halloween, and again before Christmas and then again recently. It’s strange when you have a chronic thing like this which is something that people don’t understand. I’ve had it so long, and know so much about it at this point.  But it never ceases to amaze and dismay me how little people know about Depression; how they lack true understanding, which makes it difficult to feel or express real compassion.  I hope that it has made me kinder and more sensitive to others – at least that would make one positive outcome from this hellish illness.

I think in our culture we don’t really believe depression is a disease. Honestly, I might have been in that same place before this happened to me. I have always been one of those “pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps” kind of people and in many ways I still am actually.  I do believe that if you’re feeling ill you should get up and face your day as if you aren’t. Nine times out of ten, you can work through it and the world is none the wiser.  And sometimes I can even do that with this, but it takes so much to do it.

[Caviat: I have been thinking that it is time to start writing about this experience and some of the others of my life.  If there was one thing I will take away from my friendship with Pete (there were many) it is WRITE!  He even went so far as to scold me, gently, about it.   Pete, if you can hear me, I heard you!  I promise to start writing!!  I don’t know what will come of it, but I’m starting with this Flow of Consciousness series. ]

But back to the topic at hand, silly me, I’ve got major depression which is not like anything I’ve ever experienced. Oh, I’ve always been melancholy, (“Melancholy Melody” my friends used to say jokingly in college and at that time it was true. I also put a pessimistic spin on everything and was always slightly anxious and filled with dread in social settings.)   But this, which began in June of 2004 (I’m not sure I’ve got the right year ’cause I’m terrible with dates and will have to think back which I’m far too tired to do right  now) is by far the most difficult thing I’ve encountered in my 42 years. Worse than my dad getting sick, worse than facing my mom’s alcoholism, worse than the shit of my childhood, being raged at and shamed, worse than all the heartaches I’ve faced in relationships in and outside my family, worse than being an alcoholic myself and worse than having to admit it, simply the worst thing in my entire life is Depression – admitting it, accepting it, living with it.  Did I mention admitting it because that is a story in and of itself, for another day.

It comes and goes but it has come again and well, it feels like it is here to stay a while. I’m doing all the things that I know help fight it and fight is the only thing you can do.  Unless you’re just going to lie down and give in to it, say your goodbyes perhaps and be done with this life.  Yes, another day has passed, I fought, and hope against all hope I will sleep hard and well, and start again tomorrow.  For all we can do it Hope in a new day.

I think that’s all I have for tonight.

My Poetry: Solitude


solitude

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

Solitude

Sometimes I sit in my car,

and just can’t move.

I glance at my neighbors’ home,

neighbors whom I love

and I just can’t move.

I can’t imagine ever moving again.

My car is warm.

And the world outside scares me.

I am frozen in my solitude.

My Poetry: Disquietude

disquietude

Sweeping across the pixels in my brain,
the dark fog of the terminally anxious.
Blood vessels, muscles, nerves each hold the weighty sand
of history and destiny.

I can’t breathe.

Confounded by its return.
I shake;
My heart somehow knowing
nothing.

By and by.
Peace, I call out for it!
Come euphoria!
A dreamland, I have yet to find.

1/7/09 Melody H. Hanson

Slip Sliding Away: thoughts on grief

I was drawn this evening to some lyrics from a Simon & Garfunkel song.  We have had an intense ice storm here over the last 24 hours – I fell twice today.  And, you guessed it, we’re ‘slip sliding away.”

Funny enough, but my mood is more sober.

Verse 3

And I know a father who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons for the things he’d done
He came a long way just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and he headed home again

Chorus

Whoah God only knows, God makes his plan
The information’s unavailable to the mortal man
We’re workin’ our jobs, collect our pay
Believe we’re gliding down the highway, when in fact we’re slip sliding away.

Feeling mortal and a little unhinged, slipin’ and slidin’ on the emotional roller coaster of grief.

Facing my maker and asking lots of questions.  It is going to be a long week.  I have two friends who lost their father in the last few weeks, another that lost her father a few years ago, and I lost my Father almost six years ago.  His diagnosis came in the month of December so it starts a long period of loss for me.

How to be?  What to think?  How to help?  What to do?

“Believe we’re gliding down the highway, when in fact we’re slip sliding away.”

Wishing you a Funky New Year


Wishing you a Funky New Year

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

Goals for ’09

  1. I want to be more present in my life. Be present with and love my family & friends.
  2. I want to see others in ways I have not before; see who needs me.  See my kids, husband, mom, sisters, nieces and nephews, close friends.
  3. I want to pursue photography: exhibit some art, apply for freelance jobs, and tell a particular story.
  4. I want to date my husband.
  5. I want to paint my bedroom. (I have had the paint for months!) and to remove ugly wallpaper from the bathroom!
  6. I want to play the piano more often!
  7. I want to organize my garage, so that we can park our cars in it.
  8. I want to bury my dad; to research and write about him.
  9. I want to finish the book of poetry.  Save.  Print.
  10. I want to stay sober. ( July 24th, 2008)
  11. I want to have some fun! But on the cheap, because …
  12. We want to live on our budget this year.
  13. I want to get off sleep/anxiety medication.  Which means start exercising, going back to therapy, eating right, and heading toward, not away from my demons.
  14. I want to not be so hard on myself.  To embrace my strengths and weaknesses. Not use them as a crutch but to push myself to get healthy.
  15. I want to not think about what ifs and if onlys. Do or do not, but stop living in that ugly place.
  16. I want to study: one topic is forgiveness, the forgivers & the forgiven.  Biblical and historical stories and characters.

As of 1/3/09

“Uncle” Pete

My friend, (recent) neighbor and former colleague at InterVarsity, Pete Hammond went to be with the Lord on Friday.  I never took my own picture of him myself, which I deeply regret. It’s weird, you always think you will have more time.

Goodbye Pete.

My heart is heavy today as I sit here at my laptop reflecting on the man I knew.   He was 72 (I think), only “retiring” at 70 which is a reflection of him as person.  He was never “done” with the work that was on his heart and he continued to make his influence known on people all over the country.  He was often in and out of Madison on various trips, it was hard to know when he was here.  But we were able to spend a few hours here and there having coffee at my house.  In coming days I will reflect on those hours.

Pete was a man of many words.

He loved to write, often waking at 4 or 5 in the morning and writing all morning.  Pete loved to pass along books and leaflets, and what not.  One thing that he passed on to me, to help me with my grief over losing my father, was titled called the “Mourner’s Bill of Rights.”

1.  You have the right to experience your own unique grief.
2.  You have the right to talk about your grief.
3.  You have the right to feel a multitude of emotions.
4.  You have the right to be tolerant of your physical and emotional limits.
5.  You have the right to experience “grief bursts.”
6.  You have the right to make use of ritual.
7.  You have the right to embrace your spirituality.
8.  You have the right to search for meaning.
9.  You have the right to treasure your memories.
10. You have the right to move toward your grief and heal.

In many ways a list like this is simplistic, but Grief is such a mystery and takes it’s own time.   Time actually I have found is meaningless when it comes to grief.

Goodbye “Uncle” Pete

goodbye “uncle” pete

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

It was Christmas eve. The kids and I spent the day making and decorating sugar cookies. The kids had so much fun. (Of course we told them to slow down with the candies on top, or no-one would want to eat them!) Emma and I took a few cookies over to “Uncle” Pete, our neighbor.  He’s a widower and lives on one side of a duplex next door, his daughter and her family on the other. They were traveling and it had been “pretty quiet” he said. We rang his bell and as we handed over the plate Pete said, “Oh that will brighten up my table! …. We’re still on for pie tonight?” He was coming over that evening, after Christmas Eve church service, for pie.

That was one of my last conversations with Pete.  He did indeed come over later that night, and enjoyed “cheesecake with the drippings!” as he called it.  He laughed with my kids, asked questions about our traditions, and shared some of his own like the opening of the presents.  He talked about a friendly squirrel that visits outside his porch, which his daughter Layne has named.  He seemed kind of down, or quiet, or extremely tired.  But I was so glad that he came.  My mom was there as well and we had nice dessert tastings.

While he was here, I invited him to eat Christmas dinner with us the next day. He wasn’t sure, as he was trying to finish up a project for Layne & Andrew.  He called the next day around 1:00 to say that he was actively working on the project for his kids and wanted to finish it. Later that night, around 6:00 (I don’t exactly remember?) pm I called over to see if he wanted a plate of Christmas turkey, stuffing, etc and/or to come over for more pie. He declined as he was tired, happily full from where ever he had just been. He mentioned he was weary from waking at 4:00 am and he had to get up early for his conference. He had spent the morning writing, he was happiest when he was writing.   He sounded exhausted, but at the time I wasn’t concerned in any way, just disappointed that he didn’t come on over.

I had woken Christmas morning with the flu, and had a whole day on the 26th of more preparations and the Hanson Christmas celebration. I wonder if I would have gone to check on him if I hadn’t been so distracted by things.  But really, Pete travels all the time and if he’s gone or here, his car is in the garage. There is no way that I could have known.  I snow blowed their driveway on Sunday, but nothing seemed amiss.

The next day, I ate that plate of food I had made up for Pete. By that time, I think he had passed away.  Sometime that morning.

My friend, “Uncle” Pete, passed on to be with the Lord (likely) Friday, Dec. 26th, in the morning in his home.

Around 11:00 this morning, an InterVarsity staff person came by a bit alarmed by the fact that Pete hadn’t shown up at a conference on the 26th. (The one he was packing for.) I found him.

I still can’t believe it. Sometime soon, I will write my thoughts about Pete. Right now I am in shock, just stunned and shocked that he is gone.  I’m writing all this down, because Pete often reprimanded me about not writing more.  After my father died, I did not write things down and I have forgotten a lot of the detail.

Goodbye Pete. I miss you already.

Hope Your Spirits Are Bright

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Merry Solstice, and JOY JOY JOY and PEACE for you and yours. A few images from our week.

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Peace to You

This holiday season, so far, I am baking, baking, baking and Tom is cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.  Today has been busy with baking two pumpkin pies, a cheesecake, and a Key Lime pie and cranberry sauce.  Tomorrow it will be sugar cookies and a Cherry pie.  Perhaps a Pecan.  And then it is on to preparing for a traditional Turkey dinner (mashed potatoes, stuffing, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, etc. for eleven on Christmas day.  And spiral Ham, scalloped potatoes, etc. for 17 the next day.  It seems typical that we have one sick child and one on the mend.

It’s all wonderful and fun to cook and it will be great to have everyone in our home.  And Tom’s cleaning is stellar.  You’d think he owns a cleaning company or something! :-)

I hope your holidays are filled with good food and people.  If not, give me a call.  We’ve got plenty and you are welcome.

We are grateful for our abundance and the love which surrounds us.  And on this day, before the day before … we are grateful for good friends who have enriched our lives this year.  For the true meaning of Christmas, for us, the birth of Jesus.

Be warm!

The Color of My Soul


…

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

“The colour of my soul is iron-grey and sad bats wheel about the steeple of my dreams.”

Claude Debussy (French composer, 1862-1918)

I Wish: Thoughts on Life

I wish, I wish.  I wish I knew what it meant to really accept yourself; to like the person you are and who you are becoming.

I wish I could remember what real joy felt like.  I can’t remember the last time I felt it, if ever, which can’t possibly be true but … I just can’t recall it.

I wish my father wasn’t dead; that I could have really said good-bye while he was cognizant of me and remembered my name.  And more importantly, that I could still have him – here – to learn from, know, grow with.  Too many lost opportunities.

I wish I knew how to love my Mother, to accept her for who she is, just as I want to be accepted for who I am.

I wish I was a better friend; I want friendship but I’m just no good at it.

I wish that the cloud of depression, the sink hole, wouldn’t pull me down so often.

I wish we didn’t have so much stuff, which just creates a cycle of want, acquire, move, clean, dispose of, replace.

I wish I had confidence that my kids are going to be okay, that my mistakes and who I am won’t hurt them.

I wish I could remember positive experiences from growing up, because I know that growing up wasn’t ALL BAD, but I can’t remember.

I wish, I wish.  All I can do today is wish, for although I am up and out of bed, my head is screaming in pain and my heart is heavy; all I can do today is wish.

12/18/2008