Life Without Montages

I heard this song, its a country song, “5 more minutes.” Do you know it? I could listen to this all day. This is as true as it gets.

We had a much fun as we could with Al. He planned around his chemo days to get to baptisms, birthdays, and parades.

“With so much left to say I prayed, Lord I ain’t finished…just give us 5 more minutes.”–Song Lyrics

With 4 years and three months of knowing that Al could die at any time, I can’t say that I felt prepared. Even though Al took the time to talk with me and to go as far as to apologize for how hard he knew this would be for us.

What can I say about 25 years of time with Al as my father?

The first lesson I remember is that I used to be in a competitive dance class. I had a part with a high jump and my dance instructor saw that I had a large run in my tights. She was so mad, and yelled at me for “ruining it for everyone.” I’m not sure that was true, as we hadn’t won any of the other competitions the whole year, but it still hurt. I remember Al walking me around the building, waiting for me to calm down, and then he goes,

“Fuck ’em. Seriously, this doesn’t matter at all.” And he was right. We can’t let the judgements of others shape our lives.

The next thing I remember is wild rice soup at a Café in St. Michael. I failed a Geometry test and was directed to the nurses office on account of my panic breathing. Al came to pick me up and took me out to lunch.

“You know you have to go back after this. You’re not really sick.” And he was right. It’s important to get back up when we fall.

Al once through a boyfriend over his shoulder then said, “Ah, I’m just messing with ya.” Al taught me to drive, gave me away at my wedding, and became a Grandfather to my children. Al never asked us to call him Dad, even though he did all the things a father is supposed to do.

Al spoke well of my Dad, and assured me that somethings are not well explained.

Al learned about drugs the hard way long before I knew him. Al said, “Terra, you know all that stuff you like…running, the play, drawing…drugs make you not care about any of anything or anybody. You should skip it.” Drugs ruin lives, and I’m glad I listened to Al.

Al was a Grandfather. He held our babies and played with our kids. We had big family meals together. We watched movies, and ate treats. He was ordering Christmas presents for the kids a few days before he passed. He kept the cabin nice, so the grandkids could swim and run and watch fireworks.

It feels like he’s still here. I keep thinking, “Al’s not dead. I just talked to him. He wants me to pick up two guns. We’re coming to their house for Christmas and Al love Christmas.”

The last thing he said to me was, “I’ll have those guns ready for you.” Because he heard there were wild cats in the woods where my family and I moved to. He was always thinking of protecting us.

There was a time in my life where I felt sorry for myself. When I heard that Al had cancer my first thought was, “That’s not fair. I’m going to have two dead Dads.”

But now I think it’s true what my neighbor said…that I had two of the best Dads in the world.

I once read that “Gratitude is the first sign of a thinking, rational creature.” Its a quote from Solanus Casey.

I’m sad that Al’s gone. I want 5 more minutes. But I know that two great Dads is a blessing and I will be forever grateful.

Sincerely,

Terra Rose Knoble

Yesterday, we unpacked Halloween costumes and winter clothes. Through the years, we’ve amassed a small “fortune” of bins filled with costumes, wigs, and fake weapons. Then, Randy found a box of corn starch packing peanuts and taught the kids to dab the ends on a sponge. Ariel built a helmet for Sam’s costume.

Today, we’ll drive 4 hours. The kids are pretty much used to 3 hour rides, but somehow I know this is going to push everyone’s limit.

I’ve been taking prenatal vitamins this past week, even though I’m not pregnant. This could be a placebo effect, but I’m been feeling especially well this week. I was googling  “Niacin” because I remember seeing a documentary that cited it as a treatment for depressive symptoms. Then, I google “Dietetics” and “UW LaCrosse Nutrition.”

It would be fun to learn everything!

Things I miss about St. Mary’s University: The small church on campus, eating soup at the eye clinic across the street, walking to the Swedish Museum, and visiting Al and my Mom at Abbott Hospital on the days Al had treatment there. I miss writing assignments, sharing thoughts in a group, and drinking a water bottle while professors wrote on the board. I liked taking notes and circling those notes and underlining those notes.

I keep telling myself that every place and time is a chance to grow and learn, but my stubborn brain only wants to take in new information in a classroom setting. Or it only wants to acknowledge new info in a classroom setting. In reality, none of us can ever stop learning. Our five senses are bringing in information at all times. Like Dr. Seus explained, “Think. You can think any think that you wish…”

Well, that’s all for now. The kids are ready to go and I’m still in PJs.

Hugs!

Terra Rose

After the Developmental Psychology class, it’s hard to remember what order the courses came in. Ariel was a baby, and unlike my time with her brother, I was able to stay home most of her young life. I owe this to my husband and his business partner who offered me a marketing position at their software company. When Sam was 10 months old, I quit my full-time job working with people with developmental disabilities and stayed home part-time marketing and caring for Sam. When I decided to go back to school, I was pregnant with Ariel.

Possible paths to graduation included a minimum of two years and a maximum of 5 years to complete a Master’s in Marriage and Family Therapy. We planned to pay as we went. By “we” I mean to be clear that this was a team effort. My husband ordered my books and resold them as each course finished. He cared for Sam and Ariel and continued to do graphic design work from home. For awhile, I continued to do marketing and take one course at a time. When I could see that the quality of my marketing work was dropping, I looked for new part-time work. I took a job as a caregiver for a young adult with Autism and developmental disabilities. This job was in his home, with his mom. The time I came in was a span of four hours and it was the time when his mom took a break/respite. She was a kind hearted person, and I remember standing and reading a series of quotes about Love and God that were up in their bathroom. She had Cancer. It was ongoing. She had a infrared light machine in her bedroom. Sometimes, other people would come to use the machine.

I wasn’t at that job long, because another position I’d applied to earlier got back to me with a better financial offer. I felt bad leaving so soon, but the other position was with a hospital and offered healthcare as well as a high hourly wage. The new position was “Activities Assistant” and it involved art, games, and one-on-one visits to residents in an assisted living and memory care part of a hospital. I loved it. The people were beyond kind to me, they encouraged me in my studies, and told me that I would be a great therapist. Year later, when my Grandpa and Grandma moved into a similar place, I asked my Grandpa not to underestimate his influence with the staff people. Like myself, they may need to hear words of support and encouragement. These days, I have strong opinions about assisted living places…even really nice ones. Its not that the places aren’t nice, it is the reality of loss within the wider community that invariably happens when we remove older (often wiser) adults from it. This is another story/strong opinion for another day.

I worked at the hospital for nearly one year. Ariel was three by then. It was at this time that a classmate told me about a private practice in Northfield, MN that was offering paid internships. I had already been preparing myself to work, go to school, and participate in a volunteer internship in order to graduate. If I could get a paid internship…wow…that would be amazing. At the same time, my husband’s business was having a bad year. He and his business partner talked about what to do. My husband decided to focus on caring for our children and declined a salary that year. Due to having little debt, we had completed paying our mortgage on our home, we were able to live off of our savings and my part-time work and pay for graduate school.

Thanks for listening. Sharing these events is adding a coherency to my life.

Sincerely,

Terra Rose

It’s been one year since the completion of the path to my career. The start was 7 years ago. I was pregnant with Ariel and I google searched “Graduate Schools”. Then, I drove to Minneapolis and asked to walk around St. Mary’s University with the admissions counselor.

In my phone, I found the people who I could ask to write me letters of recommendation. The people I asked were gracious and wrote well of me. 10 days after Ariel was born, I was at an interview at St. Mary’s. I remember that it was hard to find pants that fit and that I drank a Mountain Dew, because I was so tired. Also, my boobs hurt. For people who have not experienced breast-feed…well that’s a rant for another time.

A few weeks later, I got a packet in the mail with an acceptance to begin. The first class I took was Developmental Psychology. I remember that, when we covered Adolescence, the professor talked about a concept called “Personal Fable”. That phrase changed the way I see the world. I remember thinking, “I’m 30 years old. Do I still have that?”

We were assigned to write a 20 page paper. It was hot that summer, and we did not have air conditioning at that time (this was real dumb…when I think about it now. But at the time, I thought that air conditioning was wasteful). I remember my sweat falling onto my keyboard while I worked. My sister, Tina, came over to watch my kids while I got this done.

Here is a part of that paper:

“Equality
Equality begins with each of us. The very concept of ‘disability’ is a social construct frequently created by the lack of opportunities for individuals to increase their skills (O’Brien 1986; as noted by Aldridge 2010). Realizing that all people have talents, time, and knowledge is one way to move away from thinking of oneself as a helper or as needing help to creating relationships which include interdependence (Aldridge 2010).
Perhaps all that is happening with our neurons is happening within our families is happening within our state is happening within our country and is happening within our world. We form connections, relationships, that can help us grow or cause us to wither and die. My biggest obstacle in life is a fear of failure. As a daughter, sister, wife, mother and neighbor, I take comfort in the following quote.

“Do not allow yourself to be disheartened by any failure as long as you have done your best.”
-Mother Teresa.”

I enjoyed writing down the things I had wondered about for so long. It made me feel solid, real, and purposeful.

That’s all I have time for today. Except to say that I’ve been eating foods high in Iron this week, and I’m feeling especially well right now. Maybe, when my kids are grown (not that I’m ready for that) I could study Dietetics/Nutrition. I’d like to learn how foods affect the way we feel and live.

Sincerely,

Terra Rose

PS. My husband doesn’t think I should go Canoeing alone on the Kickapoo River. I disagree…I’m not talking about a kayak…rather a sturdy canoe. And this isn’t the Mississippi river. Its a smaller one. Blurg. We’ll see what I do. I could literally walk a canoe down from my house…and its one of the things I was looking forward to doing when we moved here.

At the library, I pick up a book with the title, “Always maintain a Joyful Mind.” My nine year old son points out that I have two other “joy books” already at home. Thanks, yes, I realize.

I’m pretty sure if I keep buying and borrowing books about joy, cultivating joy, practicing a joyful mindset, I will become a jollier version of myself. If you want to try my technique, the key here is to carry those books around. You know? Keep them near your bed, in the bathroom, on a coffee table. Literally, carry them around in your purse. Somehow, the joy tips from the book will be absorbed.

Shhhup. Quiet. I know that there is a step missing.

Ah, yes. Remember to eat slices of cheese as you walk from your joy books in various locations. Maybe ice cream if you can’t find cheese. Solved!

so much younger than today, I never needed anybody’s help in any way.” -Beetles. the rest of the lyrics can be found here.

That was in my head, when I woke up today. Not really accurate, for me, because I needed a lot of help when I was younger. There were so many years where I didn’t realize that other people had their own struggles. I was a lengthy monologue.

Now, it feels like I’m on the other side of unbalance. Words rush into my ears and I want to slow the flood. The skill of listening has been hard earned, and now I’m capable of staying present for sad, angry, even traumatic stories. Despite the sheer amount of time, money, effort, written and oral testing; I find myself wondering how to help people heal. And I want to tell people not to wait…please don’t wait…don’t wait until you feel better to be with the people and do the things that matter to you. Take a shower and cry, and take your puffy face out for walk. Kick shame out of your way and go to the places you don’t feel like going. Make choices based on meaning. Does it mean something to you? Then, do it. And know that it will hurt on a number of levels.

One of the most vexing puzzles is why so much functioning at times and then abrupt halts. **Rant**For the past six months, our family has been driving three hours once a week. I got a new job. We looked at more houses than I can even recall, and picked one, and moved most of our stuff here. And it flooded here, right before we even bought our home. Our new home was higher than the flood water, but the parking lot of the part I planned to bring my kids to…looks like a sink hole. I get up and I can see that there are many good things in my life, but I am still sad that my step-dad has Cancer. I’m still sad and I’m not alone. I’m still sad that my friend’s brother died. I’m still sad that sexual abuse is all around us and people don’t even see it. I’m still sad when girls under 10 tell me they think they are fat. I’m still sad about the history of people with developmental disabilities, knowing that if I had lived in another time…I wouldn’t have even met my sister. She would have gone off to live at a place…a segregated place. There are realities happening now, that we will one day look back on and be very sad.**End Rant?**

Life is this deer that jumps out in front of me while I try to navigate.

So, I drink my coffee and I write things down and at 9:30am I’ll walk with my kids to Storytime at the library. I won’t feel like getting dressed or walking or talking to anyone. But when I get moving, I invariably feel better. I’ll see my kids having fun with other kids, and we’ll pass the trees changing color. I’ll still feel sad, but I’ll feel joy and love at the same time. And that’s what makes life beautiful. It isn’t waiting. Beauty is moving without perfection, without freedom from pain. Beauty is embracing sorrow while living with the people we love.

Sincerely,

Terra Rose

It’s been two years since I last wrote on this blog. Whoa! Where does the time go?

The plan was to write something tonight…and then I looked at all our pictures from this past year 🙂

The best way to meet a goal is to start small and/or start at all. So, this is all for now.

Hugs!

Terra

Not sleeping has an effect on me. Or several/various effects. Ariel wakes up every night frantically crying. This has been true for more than a year.

On the nights when I sleep right next to her, she still wakes up. But she is comforted more easily.

Fiona wakes up all nights as well. Winding down a road of feeling sorry for myself, I stretch my imagination to remember what it was like to lay down at night and not wake up until the sun came up (or an alarm).

Yet, if memory serves me correctly, I had more angst ten years ago about relatively nothing. I wrote so much more (than now) about the many, many, many things that presented as struggles from my perspective.

Burn-out has been defined (in one spot) as, “an imbalance between the psychological resources of an individual and the demands being made on those resources.”

That definition can be broadened to include more than just psychological resources. We all have resources; inside and outside of ourselves. Imagine a quilt. Each patch is a resource. Each patch is someone to talk to, a book to read, exercise, eating well, prayer/faith, writing, hot running water, a car that works, a house that is fairly clean.

I feel like I have resources. I don’t always use them….

“Imbalance” is a helpful way to conceptualize how it can possibly be that one person…I’ll use myself to be fair, can have a healthy family, own a home, have a car that works, multiple family members, friends, co-workers, and neighbors who all care about me and provide me with tons of help….can possibly get the level of frazzled that I get. It absolutely boggles my mind!

My husband fixes everything around here. If some piece of equipment gets faulty, he finds a way to breath new life into it so that machine can wash dishes or clothes or whatever its particular function. When I remember to think about it, I appreciate all these actions that keep our home running.

Sometimes, when I’m driving, I’ll look down at the little red hand that keeps track of how much gas is in the tank. The best word I can think of, for how I feel as I look at it, is Jealous. What I wish is that I could have a monitor of how much fuel I have available for the things that I want to do. This seems to be the biggest problem I encounter again and again and again.

Ideas that look good on paper are physically exhausting. I over estimate what I can do in a day, in a week, in a year. Other times, I under estimate and begin to do less and less until I feel a cold tiredness that comes…not from honest exhaustion…but from moving too little.

Keeping track is something that I used to do. Journaling was my thing for many years, until I started to think, “Who cares about this? This is boring or silly to read.” when I would pick-up an old journal from a few years back.

The benefits, though, aren’t so much that my writing is interesting as much as writing frees up space in my mind and heart to be with the people I love. The things I write about are often boring or selfish or silly or dramatizations of reality.

There I things I carry, carry, carry when the healthy thing to do would be to set that shit down.

Writing is resource.

Well, time for me and Tricia to head to church 🙂 Terra