Just in case . . .

you come across this and wonder where I've gone, I've taken my entries over to my livejournal.com account (username: jessiqua). Thanks for stopping by.

grief

Today was a hard day, the hardest since Saturday. I woke feeling melancholic. I had to suddenly tell myself I was awake and that I needed to get out of bed. This is not normal for me. I usually wake up and am out of bed within about five-ten minutes, but I laid there this morning for at least a half hour before I realized it. Something about the mornings leaves me more vunerable when I face the day. Perhaps it's built up anxiety around what the day holds, and the tasks and deadlines looming over head.

Everything right now seems so HUGE because I am dealing with so many emotions, so much grief. I cried a bit today, quite a bit, and it felt nice. I also avoided homework again so that I could clean and organize my apartment, and I LOVE that feeling. It is a very effective technique when I need to pick myself up.

I am going to Portland tomorrow night with Charity to see the David Byrne power point lecture. We have exclusive tickets that entitle us admission to a reception afterward with him (and a few others who also purchased these types of tickets.) It will be nice to get out of town, even if just over night. We'd planned it over a month ago, and it's something I have been thinking of like a light at the end of the tunnel - or maybe just a peek hole half way through the tunnel . . . which is also okay.

Charity and I met just over a month ago, but we'd corresponded via email for a little while before then. We came together based on our admiration and love for David Byrne, and quite a nice friendship has been blossoming. It feels so odd to be starting a new friendship as I grieve the loss of one of my most precious friendships, but I also acknowledge this as a part of life. I just wish Sybil had a chance to meet Charity because I know they would totally hit it off. Charity is so intuitive, and knows herself so well. She and Sybil would have quite a bit in common (besides a friendship with me.) :) I did have a chance to tell Sybil a little bit about Charity that weekend I was at her apartment, the weekend before her final admittance to the hospital. It feels strange, still. I guess that's normal.

Speaking of close friendships, my other super close friend, Marci called me two nights ago and we had a very nice conversation about grief and loss. Her father died suddenly while on a business trip in Russia seven years ago. She really understands what I am feeling, and it was comforting to talk with her on this level. We have been friends for nearly 17 (!) years, and her father's death really hit me hard as I've never been close to my father. I didn't understand, I thought it was so unfair that a man so devoted to his wife and children could be taken away, so far from home, and so young (48.) I was pissed at the world. And this was because of how much I love her and her family. As with Sybil and her family, I've learned so much about friendship through them, and I value that so much.

Marci and her husband and their kids moved to Sitka last summer, and I was so bummed, although excited and hopeful for their new life up there. Well, she told me on the phone that they are planning to move back to Washington this summer!! I really hope it works out. It will be great to have them here.

The people I am closest to are nowhere near me:
Hans (BF of 3+ years) - In CA
Deana (sister) - In VA
Sybil (friend of ten years) - Singing with the angels
Marci (friend of 17 years) - Alaska
Sharon (friend of four years) - Chicago

Sometimes, I feel isolated, but I tend not to admit it.

Current sounds: The Daily Show w/ Jon Stewart

I have SO much homework to catch up on.


(I am now keeping a live journal at www.livejournal.com, username jessiqua)

grief is my daily planner

Today was a hard day, the hardest since Saturday. I woke feeling melancholic. I had to suddenly tell myself I was awake and that I needed to get out of bed. This is not normal for me. I usually wake up and am out of bed within about five-ten minutes, but I laid there this morning for at least a half hour before I realized it. Something about the mornings leaves me more vunerable when I face the day. Perhaps it's built up anxiety around what the day holds, and the tasks and deadlines looming over head.

Everything right now seems so HUGE because I am dealing with so many emotions, so much grief. I cried a bit today, quite a bit, and it felt nice. I also avoided homework again so that I could clean and organize my apartment, and I LOVE that feeling. It is a very effective technique when I need to pick myself up.

I am going to Portland tomorrow night with Charity to see the David Byrne power point lecture. We have exclusive tickets that entitle us admission to a reception afterward with him (and a few others who also purchased these types of tickets.) It will be nice to get out of town, even if just over night. We'd planned it over a month ago, and it's something I have been thinking of like a light at the end of the tunnel - or maybe just a peek hole half way through the tunnel . . . which is also okay.

Charity and I met just over a month ago, but we'd corresponded via email for a little while before then. We came together based on our admiration and love for David Byrne, and quite a nice friendship has been blossoming. It feels so odd to be starting a new friendship as I grieve the loss of one of my most precious friendships, but I also acknowledge this as a part of life. I just wish Sybil had a chance to meet Charity because I know they would totally hit it off. Charity is so intuitive, and knows herself so well. She and Sybil would have quite a bit in common (besides a friendship with me.) :) I did have a chance to tell Sybil a little bit about Charity that weekend I was at her apartment, the weekend before her final admittance to the hospital. It feels strange, still. I guess that's normal.

Speaking of close friendships, my other super close friend, Marci called me two nights ago and we had a very nice conversation about grief and loss. Her father died suddenly while on a business trip in Russia seven years ago. She really understands what I am feeling, and it was comforting to talk with her on this level. We have been friends for nearly 17 (!) years, and her father's death really hit me hard as I've never been close to my father. I didn't understand, I thought it was so unfair that a man so devoted to his wife and children could be taken away, so far from home, and so young (48.) I was pissed at the world. And this was because of how much I love her and her family. As with Sybil and her family, I've learned so much about friendship through them, and I value that so much.

Marci and her husband and their kids moved to Sitka last summer, and I was so bummed, although excited and hopeful for their new life up there. Well, she told me on the phone that they are planning to move back to Washington this summer!! I really hope it works out. It will be great to have them here.

The people I am closest to are nowhere near me:
Hans (BF of 3+ years) - In CA
Deana (sister) - In VA
Sybil (friend of ten years) - Singing with the angels
Marci (friend of 17 years) - Alaska
Sharon (friend of four years) - Chicago

Sometimes, I feel isolated, but I tend not to admit it.

Current sounds: The Daily Show w/ Jon Stewart

I have SO much homework to catch up on.

Sybil's Memorial

Sybil Glory DeFord

January 31, 1973 to February 22, 2005Sybil was known for her amazing love of life and a kind of crazy, wonderful vital energy that that infected everyone she encountered. She was the kind of person that had total strangers come up to her and want to touch her for a moment just to ''get what she had.'' Being a Mystic, she had an ever-present sense of the divine presence within her, and that presence was her constant companion, mentor, comforter, and friend. While she did not often speak about this aspect of her self, she did strongly affect others just by being who she was. Her many friends all talk of how she was an inspiration to them that never failed to uplift them to greater thoughts and deeds, and how she always helped them to renew their faith in a better life.Sybil was a writer. She wrote an online journal that brought her new friendships from all over the country. She wrote poems and short stories that were gifts to the world from her remarkable mind and heart. She was in the process of writing two fantasy novels, and a book titled ''The Gift of Cancer'' when her life was cut short. If the world could somehow know what those books were going to contain, it would weep for what it has lost.Sybil was always expanding her horizons. We gave her a microscope and she ran around collecting samples of water, slimes, molds, bugs, and everything else she could find. She would cry out in delight at the new world she could now enter through her extended sight. We gave her a digital camera and she took pictures wherever she went, showing us amazing things that we hadn't really noticed before. She made her own soap, candles, and paper, wove cloth, did bead work, and sewed her own clothes. She loved to ride her bicycle, go kayaking, go for walks, do yoga and other mind-body workouts. And, she bought books about it all. To her, books were doorways into other minds and other worlds. In addition to the non-fiction, she loved Fantasy and Science Fiction, but she was constantly pushing out into other genres, based on recommendations from friends and family. While she was not a gamer per se, she loved the fantasy Role Playing Game Morrowind. She played it for hundreds of hours while her body was too sick to play out in the real world. She often credited Morrowind for ''getting her through it all.'' When she was in remission after her second round of cancer, she had the feeling that she had not done enough in her life. She bought a guitar, researched singing lessons, and proposed marriage to Brad Robertson, her lover of six years. While she was in the hospital for her third round of cancer, she often talked bout how strange and wonderful it was going to be when she was ''someone's wife.''Sybil and her family desire to thank the wonderful doctors, nurses, and staff at the hospitals that treated her. These incredible, dedicated people surrounded her with love, kindness, sensitive care, and a genuine concern for her comfort and well being that went beyond what we could ever hope for. There was Providence Hospital in Everett, including Dr. Cohenour and his staff, the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA), and finally there was the outstanding facility at the University of Washington Medical Center. We will always remember the entire staff on the 8th floor of that facility with the most heartfelt thanks, and we feel a deep gratitude for the dialysis nurses and technicians, and the amazing Intensive Care unit people that came to help Sybil. And, then there was the Outpatient nurses and staff who picked up all the pieces and worked with Sybil so she could spend a few weeks at home. She treasured those weeks. We are grateful.Without exception, every single person that was involved in treating Sybil (and there were dozens) was a skilled professional and an excellent human being. These people get up every day and go out to battle a ruthless enemy that kills the young and old, the fathers and mothers, and the children of us all. We are proud to have met them.Sybil is survived by: Robert and Virginia DeFord, her parents, Jason DeFord, her brother, and Brad Robertson, her fiancé.

melt down

It's good to know one's limits, but that's not enough. Honoring those limits is crucial. Well, I thought I knew my limits, and I thought I was doing everything I was supposed to, but I over-extended myself towards the end of last week and had a major emotional melt-down. I'd gotten little sleep throughout the week, and returned to work Thursday morning, then had three hours of class that night, followed by six hours of class Friday, and then back to work Saturday morning, again on little sleep. One of the first customers Saturday was from the Team In Training. She had first come in nearly a month ago and I mentioned Sybil to her. Well, she came in this time with a purple wrist band and handed it to me, saying to give it to Sybil for her. I informed her Sybil had died Monday, and just in saying that, I broke down. She held my hand and told me to keep the band, and I had to pull away and cry in the bathroom. It just snuck up on me. The rest of the day I was a wreck, but in a sneaky way. I mean, I'd just be going along doing my work and blammo, tears down my face. Hans showed up from the airport and we went for a nice brunch over which I determined I'd better get Sunday's shift covered so I could recuperate a little more. I was still feeling that awful sick feeling inside, a sign to me that I had a lot to purge. This all turned into a fiasco with my manager who claimed she'd help me find coverage, then didn't answer her phone for at least two hours, and then expected me to call a bunch of people to ask them to cover my shift. I was crying pretty hard by the time I'd heard from her, and she was telling me she didn't know what else to do for me. I said, "So you want me to work tomorrow, crying sproadically when I should be doing my tasks? Dealing with people in this state? I can't do it! I shouldn't have done it today. I can't work tomorrow!" She said she'd call me back in a little bit, which she did informing me she got my shift covered. Hmm, that was easy! Well, there are a few more details in how she got the shift covered, but what really surprises me here is that she couldn't make all the calls or couldn't ask someone to make these calls for me. Well, I needn't keep dwelling on it. Hans thinks J displayed managerial incompetency, and I have to agree. I wish I didn't have to work there anymore.

Anyway, I had a nice time with Hans these last few days. I am feeling a lot more stable and physically well - for the most part. I still have the strange pain/nausea, but it's fading. We were silly last night - we ordered pizza in and watched the Oscars. He had to leave earlier than planned, though on a flight tonight instead of tomorrow morning. I am sad, but I understand he needed to tend to some very serious stuff at home.

I spoke with Brad last night, the first time since Sybil died. He seems to be doing well, considering it all. He says he has his moments, of course, but he's keeping himself busy. He spent five or six hours cleaning house yesterday, something Sybil probably could have never imagined in her wildest dreams! Brad doing the cleaning instead of her! heh He said he's keeping some of her belongings, like her glasses and some jewelry, and the Bride's magazine she bought very recently.

I started this entry earlier tonight and have taken a few hours to finish it. I feel bad that people have been leaving such nice comments, but I've been pretty bad at replying. It's kind of hard getting a hang of how this all works. Plus my cognitive functioning seems pretty impaired this past week or so. I couldn't even construct full sentences in class Friday night, let alone remember drinks orders at work the day before.

Hans and I went to the new Seattle Public Library today. He wasn't so impressed by it, but I thought it was pretty trippy. While I was there, it dawned on me that the last time I'd visited Sybil in her home, the weekend prior to her last admittance to the hospital - she was talking about the library and wanting to check it out. I wondered today if my sudden desire to go there was a way to feel reminded of her, or perhaps she kinda guided me there today as a way to communicate with me. I dunno. I just know that wherever I go lately, I always have memories of our friendship springing up. It's so nice, of course, but because her death is still so recent, there is sadness equally attached.

I get to see my therapist tomorrow, and I am thankful for that.

I ate Kettle potato chips five minutes ago - disgusting and delicious!

Sybil's Keys

Today has been rough, trying to go on with life as though things are just dandy. Our society is so strange when it comes to grief and loss. Someone will say compassionately to the grieving one, "I bet it feels as though the world should stop so you can grieve," and the grieving one thinks, "Well, why the hell shouldn't it stop?" That's what I feel, anyway. Why should I feel as though I have to attend class and go to work and act as though I am "strong" and productive while my heart is aching and my insides turn and twist? Why are we so obsessed with productivity, non-human mechanicalistic operating, stoicism? What is so damn wrong with crying, letting it out, screaming and swearing? Is it that it makes others uncomfortable? Isn't that a shame? No, it's a CRYING shame!

I worked six hours yesterday and sat through three hours of class. I had to remain detached and pretend to be somewhat present and involved and productive. People were supportive of me, but why is a grieving person expected to carry on with life when their heart is elsewhere? I sat through six hours of class today. In between classes, I had a doctor appointment where I learned I surely don't have Lupus or Rheumatoid Arthritis I was tested for a second time), I also don't have Hep A or C, or hemochromatosis or a thyroid disorder - and gee, I probably don't really have arthritis, according to these tests, even though for the past few months when I wake in the morning or after a nap, I can barely move my fingers and sometimes my ankles. The stoic robot doctor then asked if I was under any extra stress, as he knew I am a graduate student who also works part-time. I began to tell him my dear friend Sybil died Monday, and I started to cry. He said, "Oh, I see. Okay. Well, that's sad. Yeah, that's sad." He didn't offer me a Kleenex. He simply went on to explain that stress can cause all the symptoms I've been experiencing. I've been way more stressed in the past than I am now, so I am not sure why I would all of a sudden manifest these symptoms, but damn, those tests are all coming up negative. I suppose my next step is to take it into my own hands - start meditating and working out and doing my pilates again. It's been a few months since I did, so maybe this is a sign that I am totally out of whack. Interesting that the onset of these symptoms did coincide with the same week Sybil went in for her second, and ultimately deadly, stem cell transplant.

Another Sybil memory: This one occurred many times! Whenever she and I would go out somewhere for drinks, usually the Dog House on Whidbey Island, she would get ready to leave and start looking for her keys in her big pouchy purse. She wouldn't find them immediately and would instantly start to panic. "Jess! I lost my keys! They're not in my purse! Oh my God, where did I leave them?" she'd say while frantically running her hands rampantly through her purse . . . I would wait smiling, because I knew they were in there. I knew this because I got used to her doing this. It was so funny, though I 'd watch intently. After a few minutes, the keys would magically appear at the bottom of her purse. I always knew she had the keys in her possession, how could she not? Innately, Sybil held the keys to many wonders of the Universe, and I felt that so deeply the more I got to know her. She often doubted herself, as she did the moment she felt her keys were missing, but Sybil knew more than she realized as is evident through her beautiful writings, as is evident in the way she lived her life, and in the way she loved those in her life.

Pics of Sybil: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jessiqua/

Driving With Sybil

So, I had this memory last night as I was falling asleep. It was from probably 6 or 7 years ago at least. Sybil and I were at a Fourth of July party on Whidbey Island. We'd both smoked some pot (this was an extremely rare event for me, so the results were a little strange!) What I remember is Sybil talking incessantly about her philosophy of the Universe, and probably something about stars and planets and how we're all connected. A few hours went by, and we were driving somewhere, I passed out. I remember waking up to Sybil saying, "Oh my God, Jess, where are we?" I sit up and literally, all I see is four-feet tall grass surrounding us, yet a paved path behind us. I quickly concluded we likely came from there, so I suggested she pull backward and see where we end up. Soon, we were on a familiar road and on our way to wherever it was we were going.
This is just one of those things I love about Sybil - well, her driving skills were just too charming, but on top of that, the sense of adventure one felt when embarking on any conversation with her, or any outing. Because she was always so open to so many pathways of thought and perception, she was often lead - and often lead others - to places beyond the scope of everyday reality. That Mystical Traveller, Free Spirited Sybil!