Book therapy

This book literally moved me to tears on at least a few occasions. Having lost someone as close and dear to me as the author did, I could relate all too well to the magnitude of all encompassing seesaw of emotions and existential questioning that follows. I enjoyed reading how Sankovitch transformed her pain with the healing salve of her most reliable of "saviors:" books. I can wholeheartedly identify with the healing power of books, which has always been my most comforting of friends during not only the best times of my life but also during painful times, lonely times, and times of challenging transitions. Sankovitch takes readers on a one year journey, reading one whole book for each day of the year. As she reads, she also reflects and finds connection that leads her to a place of gratitude, joy, and a sense of purpose.

With that said, I highly recommend this book to everyone (especially bibliophiles) and leave you with the following quotes that really spoke to me:

"For years, books had offered to me a window into how other people deal with life, its sorrows and joys and monotonies and frustrations. I would look there again for empathy, guidance, fellowship, and experience. Books would give me all that, and more."

"The world shifts, and lives change. Without warning or reason, someone who was healthy becomes sick and dies. An onslaught of sorrow, regret, anger, and fear buries those of us left behind. Hopelessness and helplessness follow. But then the world shifts again--rolling on as it does--and with it, lives change again. A new day comes, offering all kinds of possibilities. Even with the experience of pain and sorrow set deep within me and never to be forgotten, I recognize the potent offerings of my unknown future. I live in a weird world, shifting and unpredictable, but also bountiful and surprising. There is joy in acknowledging that both the weirdness and the world roll on but even more, there is resilience."

"Words are witness to life: they record what has happened, and they make it all real. Words create the stories that become history and become unforgettable. Even fiction portrays truth: good fiction IS truth. Stories about our lives remembered bring us backward while allowing us to move forward."

"The only balm to sorrow is memory; the only salve for the pain of losing someone to death is acknowledging the life that existed before."

"The purpose of great literature is to reveal what is hidden and to illuminate what is in darkness."

"Sharing a love of books and of one particular book is a good thing. But is is also a tricky maneuver, for both sides. The giver of the book is not exactly ripping open her soul for a free look, but when she hands over the book with the comment that it is one of her favorites, such an admission is very close to the baring of the soul. We are what we love to read, and when we admit to loving a book, we admit that the book represents some aspect of ourselves truly, whether it is that we are suckers for romance or pining for adventure or secretly fascinated by crime."

"In reading about experiences both light and dark, I would find the wisdom to get through my own dark times."

"Maybe that is what love is: the taming of desire into something solid and sustainable."

"We all face mysteries--'Why did that have to happen?'--that we will never be able to understand. But we can, and we do, find order somewhere, whether it be in our books, our friends, our family, or our faith. Order is defined by how we live our lives. Order is created by how we respond to what life dishes out to us. Order is found in accepting that not all questions can be answered."

Sliding doors

As I was driving home from my boyfriend's place tonight, I got to thinking how much my life feels a bit like the movie "Sliding Doors" the last two months....except instead of seeing two alternate realities of life based on choices made or not made, my alternate realities exist because of life circumstances that happened within close proximity to another. One amazing door opened shortly before another heartbreaking, tragic door closed.

I met my future boyfriend on October 23, 2012 and the best most loving friend I've ever had in my 35 years on this planet died November 19, 2012. As you may imagine, this turned my world completely upside down. I thought, "What the hell, universe? How could you open such an exciting door of possibility at the same time you took away the one person who often knew me and loved me better than I knew and loved myself?" This made absolutely no sense and totally fucked with my head, more so my heart. I felt angry. I felt confused. I felt guilty for focusing so much on this new man in my life and more so for being happy in his presence when I *should* have been in mourning 24/7 after Rajiv's death (or so that critical side of me told myself).

Two months later and it still feels weird, though I'm not going through extreme emotions anymore. Now I just find myself thinking of my life experiences and memories in terms of two significant time periods: "Before Dragos" and "After Rajiv." In order to understand the significance of these time periods, I must explain why I see my life via these 'sliding doors.'

Door #1, "Before Dragos" (there was Rajiv)

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have relationship issues (or lack thereof would be more apropos). One would think that most 35 year old women have had a plethora of significant other relationships, including even being married by that age. Not me.There have been men I briefly dated, exciting crushes that fizzled out/went nowhere, and developing feelings for male friends. All of them had two things in common: emotional unavailability and no prospect for long term potential.

Though I met my best friend Rajiv a year or two prior to approaching my 30's, he knew my terrible romantic history all too well. Not only did he know my history well, he had this almost magical power of predicting my romantic future (for good or bad) when I'd give him a snapshot of my experiences with a particular guy I was feeling unsure about at the time during our six and a half years of friendship. He was almost always right, my magic 8 ball best friend. "Outlook not so good." "Most likely." "Don't count on it."

While I usually felt clueless when it came to men romantically, Rajiv grounded me and brought me back to reality. His perspective always helped me in some way, even when he said something I didn't want to hear. In some strange way too, I feel like I got 'practice' to completely be myself with a man....open, honest, and intimately knowing one other (minus the romance/sex aspect). He didn't know it, but he was "preparing" me for an emotional intimacy I would soon also share with Dragos.

Here's where the sliding doors emerge.

Door #2 "After Rajiv" (Taking risks without my magic 8 ball)

It's now been 3 months since Dragos and I started dating, 3 weeks now into the 'in a relationship' stage. Rajiv died before I even had a chance to tell him about Dragos. The first man with whom I'm truly embarking on a new and exciting relationship (and chapter in my life) and the man whom loved me so completely unconditionally for the good, bad, ugly and everything in between....these two will never meet, will never know each other, will never know me through the eyes of the other. I will never get to share with Rajiv all the exciting "firsts" I have experienced or will experience with Dragos....or the various thoughts and feelings I have as the relationship progresses. I'll never have my magic 8 ball to give me the thumbs up or thumbs down on this man, though sometimes in my mind (when I'm spending time with Dragos) I picture Rajiv smiling at me or laughing with me.

Dragos will never know what a gift Rajiv gave me....that of feeling worthy of a caring, intimate relationship and capable of going beyond my comfort zone despite how scary it feels because the rewards far outweigh the perceived costs. Dragos will also never know how little things he says or does at times remind me of Rajiv in a funny or comforting way.

These sliding doors that initially gave me an existential crisis now give me an abundance of opportunities....that of love, meaning, growth, and most especially the confidence to become my own magic 8 ball.

Love you always and forever, Rajiv. "It is decidedly so."

The living moment

(Photo taken by me, July 2011)

Most of us tend to wake up every day and expect things to be the same they were yesterday, whether that be positive or negative. We live with a false sense of security or mindlessness of wash, rinse, and repeat, going through the motions of day to day living (our comfort zone perhaps?). It can be easy to lose sight of meaning, purpose, and/or gratitude when we're on the proverbial auto-pilot.

But what if tomorrow you woke up with a sense of true wonder instead, not knowing what the day has in store for you? Would you be more grateful for the people in your life and the beauty around you? Would you be more compassionate? More forgiving? More happy? Would you let the little things go? I know I would.

Every moment presents a unique opportunity for mindfulness, peace, and completeness. Yesterday and today have been particularly enriching reminders to me of living in the moment.

I live in a beautiful city, the most beautiful place I've lived thus far...Seattle. Now most mornings I begrudgingly head out to work dreading the rush hour gridlock on I-5. Yesterday morning, however, I couldn't take my eyes off the rays of sun pushing their way through the clouds off in the distant horizon of Bellevue to my left. It's a wonder I didn't get in an accident with how hypnotized I was by the tranquil morning sunrise in my midst. This morning was no exception, as I took in the beauty of mountains as a backdrop to the glow of the sun. How did I get so lucky to see something so gorgeous to start my day, right before my very eyes? Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, tonight I was walking to my car as the sun was setting and I was blown away by a virtual painting in the sky, brushstrokes of cloud lines dappled with patches of pink and purple. A camera could do it no justice.

My mindfulness also extends to relationships....being reminded of how quick things can change with people in our lives, in my own relationships as well as what others tell me of their relationships with partners, family, friends, colleagues...and in my profession, even clients we help. Today a friend of mine shared with me that one of his colleagues that is a year younger than him was suddenly diagnosed with stage 4 cancer....and one of my colleagues today found out suddenly that a client died. Funny enough, a movie I watched tonight also reminded me of this same theme. In "The High Cost of Living" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t1Vc6PfcMs), drug dealer Henry is living a mindless haphazard existence...until suddenly (!) he accidentally hits a pregnant woman with his car one night. I won't say anything more about the movie because it's astounding; you must see for yourself. It couldn't be a more apropos movie to represent what has become a helpful reminder to me not to take the simple (ie, beauty of a sunrise or sunset) nor the complex (ie, people in our lives) for granted.

Suddenly. Suddenly. Suddenly. It can change so fast. We don't expect to get tragic news, nor do we usually expect that the last time we see someone may very well be the last time. Granted, if we took this to the extreme in our lives it may make for a very morbid and paranoid outlook....but taken with a healthy sense of mindfulness and compassion, it can give us the opportunity to live more deeply (and paradoxically, more lightly) and love more fully.

"The living moment is everything." ~D.H. Lawrence

Mystery of the grumpy, frumpy neighbor

I find myself incredibly creeped out this morning by a recent incident that happened (and is still going on), though I don't know why it's creeping me out.

Tuesday morning I happened to set my alarm to get up earlier than I normally do so that I could get to work at hour earlier. When I got out of the shower, I could hear a ruckus in the hallway outside the door to my apartment. Given that it was 5:45am, I wondered what was going on. I thought maybe there was a drunk or homeless person that somehow got in the building, roaming around and talking to himself (you live in a big city like Chicago or Seattle long enough and it's easy for these scenarios to instantly pop into your mind as possibilities). I wasn't sure if I should go out there to assess the situation, so I put my ear to the door. I could hear a man talking on a cell phone talking about the stats on a woman's blood pressure. A few minutes pass. I look through the peephole of my door and see a group of people guiding my neighbor (across the hall) out of her apartment on a stretcher. One of the EMT guys asked her a question and she responded. She looked awake. I'm guessing she had a heart attack.

Now, I'm not one of "those people" that gets in everyone's business. I know how it feels to be on the receiving end and generally am respectful of not gawking when someone has been hurt,etc. So why is this person different and leaving me creeped out in the aftermath?

I have only had one interaction with this woman in the whole time I've lived in my apartment building, so uneventful that I can't even remember the details. It might have been my the mailboxes, though more likely we shared an elevator ride together one morning or night. All I remember about my limited interaction with this woman was that she appeared to be in her 60's. I attempted to be friendly with her, offering a smile or a kind greeting. She seemed very closed off though and didn't acknowledge me at all, a grumpy and frumpy looking woman. From what I could tell, she lived alone. I don't think I ever saw her go in or out of her apartment either. Very strange.

The past few days as I have noticed the apartment door has been open at times, including right now. A little while ago I could hear the sound of paper bags being filled. Two older men who appeared in their 60's walked by carrying a few bags. As I sit and type this now I hear boxes being taped up. The neighbor isn't there. I find myself looking at her mailbox here and there, looking for signs of whether she has moved or died. Her name is still on the mailbox at this point. I even Googled her name, trying to find an obituary for her (I haven't found anything yet).

I have this bizarre yearning to know what happened. I think what creeps me out the most is that she was an old woman who lived alone. Of course, I have no knowledge of this woman's life. Maybe she was loved by many and just happened to have lived alone. Or maybe she had some health condition that requires her to move into a nursing home or assisted living...or live with family members. She didn't appear feeble or that old looking to me when I saw her though. I am pretty sure she died. What freaks me out is that I keep thinking, what if that is me someday?

Granted, I highly doubt I will become a grumpy and frumpy old lady....but what if she was lonely and had no one in her life that gave her a quality life, one of meaning and happiness, and that's what made her appear a grumpy, unpleasant woman who lived in a studio apartment?

One thing I've always been afraid of (even more so with each passing year) is being found dead in an apartment while living alone. Who would know I'm dead? How long would it take for people to notice that I'm gone? What's funny is that I'm not afraid of death itself, only in how my death is discovered by others and how it affects or doesn't affect them. I guess it doesn't matter if my body isn't found for days since I'm obviously dead, but the thought disturbs me...as does the thought of the possibility of not having lived the fullest life I wanted to live during the time I was alive.

In undergrad college, I took a psychology class (Studies in Death and Dying) that had me visit a funeral museum as well as have me write my own obituary as part of the assignments for the class. At the time, I was about 20 years old and wrote about the cause of death being hit by a drunk driver. If I were to write it now, I have a feeling I would write a more realistic way of dying.....like choking to death (literally) on my dinner because I lived alone and there was no one there to help/save me (which reminds me of one particular "Six Feet Under" episode).

Living alone truly freaks me out sometimes. So does my imagination....