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Meeting Patrick.


humbledOriginally uploaded by M e l o d y

It’s been a while since I’ve posted.

This is worth re-posting (from April, 08 on my flickr account.)

Humbled. It isn’t often that I meet someone who I instinctively want to protect; to grab hold of and hold on tight. And take them home with me to keep them safe. Take them home to my warm house full of laughter and hugs, and a home cooked dinner at 6:00, with books, music and photographs, a warm cozy bed with a fluffy pillow and most importantly love.

I met that person today and he knows who he is. It seems overly dramatic to say I’ll never be the same, but I think that is true.

Perspective. My life with its ups and downs, even my struggles to heal my mental health, my life is good. I have shall we say ‘issues’ and I find it difficult to find balance, but my life has been a cake walk compared to so many people’s. And I am grateful.

I am loved unconditionally. I am accepted for who I am as a woman, a wife, a mother, a feminist, a person of faith, a white person, and a heterosexual. Oh sure, I didn’t exactly feel unconditionally loved by my parents, but I think in retrospect I was accepted, encouraged, and affirmed. I was safe (mostly.) Those things that are huge to a child. At a minimum, what every child deserves. But they deserve better than just food and shelter, they really do.

People need to be accepted. I am aware today how as you live and work around people you never know their challenges. They may not have the next meal, they may not have a place to live. They may not have anyone in their life that loves them unabashedly.

I keep thinking about how blind we can be. We need to care for those around us. Do we truly accept friends and family just as they are and not expect them to change for us or for any person or institution. I certainly don’t do this perfectly, but at least I am aware of my own propensity to want my kids to ‘be smart’ to ‘do better’ or ‘behave according to standards’ or ‘be x, y, or z.’ I’m aware of it and because of what I’ve been through, and because of people like the person I met today, I will continue to fight against that thing inside me that says ‘fit in,’ ‘don’t make choices that will alienate you from Society.’ Okay, I’m dancing around the issue of our children’s sexuality something we have no control over. Oh, I know there are debates about whether sexuality is nature or nurture, a choice or biological. I’m not having that conversation simply saying love each other damn it!.

Unconditionally loving others. It is a profoundly difficult way to live but so important.

Enough preaching.

A poem I wrote a while back about growing up NOT feeling loved.

It returned, again
The dream that continues to visit me
Night after night
Year after year,
Unbidden. Uninvited
Not unexpected, but unwelcome.
A dream that says
You are unwanted.
Question yourself.
Question love.
Doubt everything you know to be true.
Nothing is real.
A solitary thought that says
Night after night
In various, complicated dreams
You are Unlovely, unlovable.
The fragile peace that comes by day
Is broken during the dark hours of sleep.

My Poetry: The Quandary of Motherhood

As with all my poetry, this is written to be read ALOUD, slowly.

Motherhood is not simply a connection

from womb to life.  It is that, and

a bond created by choice.

In the choosing, it is the care of another that ties you in a life giving way.

It cannot be fully understood, only carried out.


Many a day I am incomplete.

I question how I could be the one

doing the loving, the providing, the choosing of another.

Ah, then I realize, again and again,

motherhood isn’t perfection

nor accomplishment.

But it is in the choosing, daily.

Choosing to be the advocate, the provider, the buffer

between the world and this one child that I love.


As I sit on the floor with her.

As she sobs the sorrow of a thousand broken hearts.

As I think “who can I hurt” for causing this anguish?

As I consider the quiet relief that I want to confer,

likewise the pain I want to inflict on someone else;

As I think, I know the answer.

I am duty-bound to my child that I love

and to all children

to love.  Destined to listen, to bring solace.

To uphold all in my path.  And it is not glorious or praise-worthy.

It simply is a choice

of Motherhood.


Although it is not even possible to anticipate and prevent all pain

from this child, my child, any child;

I am beholden to all children,

to endure this quandary of motherhood.

Written by MHH, January 26, 2009

Why I am not Patriotic

america

I don’t know if it was being born outside the United States though I am not a citizen of Papua New Guinea (they don’t allow it.)  Or being raised a global citizen by parents that knew what that meant and lived it but I have been privileged to be friends with people from all over the world.  I don’t know if it is because my closest friends are non-white or are “mutts” like me which were raised as 3rd culture kids.  I don’t know if it is because my family moved eight or nine times, before I finished high school.  I don’t really know why, but I am not that proud of and I don’t get gushy about, being an “American”  and most of the times in my life that I’ve been identified as American, it’s been embarrassing.

In that context, I just have to comment on how inspired I am by our President-elect, Obama — by his life, his choices, his rise to leadership, responsibility and authority, his civic care & commitment, his educational achievements, and his healthy family.

In one of his speeches recently, he said:

” In this country, we rise or fall as one nation, as one people. Let’s resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long ….

To those who would tear the world down: We will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security: We support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright: Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope ….

This is our moment. This is our time, to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth, that, out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.”

And so, I’m feeling a little proud to have a decent, intelligent President-elect that inspires and challenges me.  And I suppose I’m caught up in that sense of hopefulness.  That is why I highlight this YouTube song here on my blog.  Because although I am not yet that proud to be an American, this song gives me hope!  Even if it is a country song.  Even if it uses that old language of the Christian faith: born again.  It has nothing to do with that.

And believe it or not, I have signed the pledge on the Born Again website.  I commit to sort out how I can do something to make my country, my community in Madison, a better place for the less fortunate, the widow, the orphan, the incarderated, the poor.  This will take fortitude, commitment, deep thought and prayer.

If it is true I am my country’s keeper then we must commit ourselves to being active, involved and thoughtful citizens—a Born Again American? It sounds like an unlikely use of words, but I like it.

Will you share your voice.  Declare your commitment.  Perhaps sign the Pledge. Make your own video or add to the lyrics of the song and share it with the world!

And let me know what you decided to do!  And I will do likewise.

memory


Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

Memory   believes

before   knowing

remembers.

Believes   longer

than   recollects,

longer   than   knowing

  even   wonders.

~ William Faulkner

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.