Sue Baiman's Blog

Man, I’ve really gotten terrible at posting here… Sorry, just a random realization from logging into my own site and hoping my password is saved somewhere cause I have no idea. And how sad is that?

Anyway, I’ve been pondering my 3 words for this year for a while now and finally settled on Learning, Patience, and Resistance.

I’m trying A Year to Clear and hope to learn things about myself in the process, unlearn bad habits, and learn new, healthier, ones.

I need to have more patience with myself and others.

And resistance is about standing up for what I believe in. Fighting for change. Resisting the dumpster fire that is US politics right now. Taking action.

This is really short and I don’t care at the moment.. To be terribly cliche, it is what it is and I’m okay with that.

Happy New Year!!

It’s been just over three years since my mom died. Three years of growth and change. Three years of SO many lessons that I’m not sure I can capture or convey all of them here. But, obviously, I’m about to give that a try.

Shortly after she died I got a promotion at work to the team I’m still on now, and a place I now consider my professional home. I had to grow into my role on my team and there were plenty of growing pains, but I’ve only recently realized that these things I’m doing professionally and this group of people with whom I interact every day truly has come to feel like home.

In the first year after she left I was adrift emotionally. When my sister offered to sell me her house and pass on the equity Mom had given her, it felt right. Until, that is, we actually moved in. Almost instantaneously I knew it was the wrong decision for me and my boys. But I had given my sister my word, and financially there was no way I could purchase something else of my own. And so I started spiraling down into the worst depression I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve never been terribly good at keeping my environment organized or neat and tidy. When depressed, that only gets worse as my external environment begins to match my internal one. Letting things sit where they fall and truly not caring is a set of behaviors of which I’m not proud, yet one of the ways in which my depression manifests itself. And while the house I was in had served my sister and her children well, and in many ways been a lifesaver for them, that same house was almost my undoing.

But I’d given my word to my sister. And, so I felt trapped. Until the day she asked me if I still wanted to buy it. And as I struggled with how to answer that question she went on to say that it was okay if I didn’t. And I broke down in tears of relief. Even through the long and nasty divorce, I had never felt a sense of chains being lifted from my soul like I did in that moment. We set up a timetable for me and the boys to move out to something else and I started saving and planning to get myself into the financial position I would need to be in to make that happen.

Last July, I finally admitted that I couldn’t deal with the depression on my own. I was 51. Apparently, for someone with my intelligence, I’m a pretty slow learner when it comes to myself. I don’t know if it was because society’s attitudes towards mental illness have been improving, because I have friends who openly deal with their own mental health issues, or what, but making appointments with my doctor’s office (and subsequently changing physicians) and my therapist feel like life-changing decisions. I got the downward spiral to slow down, come to a stop, and was finally heading back up out of the abyss.

And then the bottom fell out last October when my boys lost their father. But as tragic as this is/was/has been/will always be for them, it freed me. Afterwards, someone very close to him confided in me that they knew first hand how he had treated me. They understood the gas-lighting, the arguing in circles, the nasty abusive behavior when he wasn’t the center of attention or didn’t get his way. I literally had felt like I was losing my mind on so many occasions that I can’t begin to explain the impact of having someone else ,whom I know also loved him dearly, telling me they understood the hell he put me through. He was a narcissist. A charming, funny, sweet, thoughtful, self-deprecating narcissist who made my life hell.  I say that not to minimize, diminish, or otherwise ignore any of my own mistakes or bad behaviors. But it’s a truth that virtually no one else ever saw. Having someone else speak this truth to me was life changing.

The work I had done financially in paying down debt was undone in a heartbeat when he died. I could no longer work the hours of overtime I had been putting in as I was now the sole parent. Plus, I tend to spend when stressed. But it turned out that his death meant that the final financial piece of the divorce settlement fell into place. The biggest bone of contention between us during the divorce had been his retirement fund. Previously, I would have to wait until he retired before I ever saw a penny of it. Death changes things. It changed that. I redoubled my efforts to repair my credit. I met with a realtor. And a mortgage broker. And early in May was finally pre-approved for a mortgage. Then, I was insanely lucky to fall in love with the fourth house I looked at and am now at the tail end of the mortgage process.

In a few short weeks, I go to settlement and the boys and I will go through another move. If I count moving most of my possessions to a box stall on my parents farm (and back again) at the beginning of the divorce, this will be my 5th move in seven years.  Or, my third full move in that time. But for the first time, this is a move I’m really looking forward to. The boys and I will have a place that is all our own. A place that is perfect for us. A place to finally call home. And that has as much to do with where I am emotionally and professionally, as it does with the building itself.

It’s been a long three years, but I’m finally in a good place. I know life will throw new trials at me in the future. But I also know I’ll be able to handle them. Knowing that is the best change of all.

My ex husband died suddenly in his sleep on Columbus Day. His death has turned my and my children’s worlds upside down. I read the piece below at his memorial service this past Wednesday. I’m proud of this final version, but it took a lot of work to get it down to this. The original version had a lot of anger in it that was cathartic for me to write but would do nothing in service to his memory for those in attendance. I am deeply grateful for the wise and caring words of a friend who helped me deal with those issues and edit the piece down to this. Ironically, the strength I gained having survived our divorce is what now allows me to be strong for our boys as we navigate the ever changing waters of life. The main things I want them to hold fast to now are how much their father loved them and that he only ever wanted the best for them.

Dear Addison,

I’ve started this letter to you

More times than I can count

And I still can’t find the words.

I got used to not being with you,

But knowing you were near by.

Now, I can’t wrap my head around you not being there

And having to say goodbye.

Dear Addison,

One of the hardest things

I’ve ever had to do was telling people

That you left so suddenly.

I had to tell your mom.

My dad.

Everyone.

But when I told Grammy Sue

She reminded me of the time you took her skiing.

And how you took her up to the top of the slope,

And not the bunny hill either.

How you pointed her across the hill

Telling her to ski to the trees

And it took forever to get down that damn hill.

Skiing across, falling down,

Waiting for you to pick her up, turn her around.

But the part of the story that I forgot

Is the part where she hurt all over the next day

But wasn’t going to stay home and have you lord it over her.

So she crawled into work

Only to find that YOU called off.

She still curses you when she remembers that day.

And, man, did we laugh.

The laughter helps.

Dear Addison,

The boys are really growing up fast.

I’ve been so worried about them.

The past few days have felt like years.

And I swear Jake grew a few more inches

When he put on a black suit.

Did you notice they’re wearing your ties?

They must have chosen by age

Because Max got Spidey.

But Carter and Jake

Picked the two you chose

When your own dad died.

And how has it been ten years?

I’ve been looking through pictures,

And saw the date,

And couldn’t hold back the tears.

Dear Addison,

When the kids ask me how I’m doing

And I say, “I’m tired”,

Carter says, “Hi, Tired. I’m Carter.”

And I immediately think of you.

They make me laugh

And I’m so thankful for that.

Dear Addison,

Do they have a Disney World where you are?

Or some sort of equivalence?

I know how much you were looking forward

To that trip and your 50th birthday.

I guess there’s a first for everything.

You remember how you refused to turn 30?

Or 40?

But the earth kept spinning

Despite your denial.

Dear Addison,

Thank you for being my polar opposite.

I can’t imagine what life would have been like

If either of us was the same as the other.

I’d like to think that we balanced each other.

I will do my best to be more like you

In the hopes of maintaining that balance.

And maybe that will help me too.

Dear Addison,

Do you remember how we used to hold hands?

And stroll through the mall

Doing Silly Walks?

Daring people to say something

Or try to spoil our fun.

I’ll try to be more like that version of us

Living in the moment

Like we did back then.

Dear Addison,

I think I might keep writing to you

When the moment or memory guides me.

Jake will be an official teenager soon.

Not like he hasn’t been acting like one

Since he was three.

But, you know…a technicality.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories to tell you.

There will be triumphs and tragedies,

Graduations,

Dances and Braces,

And all the little in between places

That childhood and children go.

I’ll keep you posted.

I know how you hate not being in the know.

I’ll do my best to protect them and help them grow

As they finish becoming

The wonderful men we already love and know.

Dear Addison,

We had our differences

But none of that matters in the end.

You were and will always be their superhero.

Safe travels my friend.

Saw my therapist for the first time in years. Literally. Five of them to be exact. Spent most of the hour catching her up on those five years and how they relate to today.

Realized how very much has happened in that time: the divorce was finalized; I moved twice (and will be again sometime within the next 9 months); I went from being a federal wage clerical employee to a State employee, and from the first level of that up two additional levels; I went from editing as a hobby and beta reading to making okay money as a part time freelancer; I published two books; and my mom died. That last one is still such a kick to the gut and the second to last one is one of the things of which I’m most proud.

We talked about my symptoms. Which, on the whole, haven’t changed. She believes they sound like chemical imbalance issues. So, so far, my doctor, my therapist, and I are in agreement that medication and therapy are the way to go. Now, to just get in to a psychiatrist’s office. I got more referrals and made another call. Really hope I can get something scheduled soon. I don’t care if the appointment itself isn’t for a few months, so long as it’s scheduled.

Scheduled follow-ups with her and my doctor today. I know we have minimal control over our lives most of the time. But for the first time in a long time I have the illusion of being ever so slightly more in control of mine. And illusion or not, it feels pretty good.

That I accidentally hit my step goal today while J and I were playing PoGo was icing on the proverbial cake.

Meanwhile, today was already a good day. Odds are tomorrow or the next day won’t be as good. Those are what I need to change…

I typed the title of this post and smiled.  Ah, if only a single day would do it. Sadly, today is simply the day that I managed to get both a Dr’s appointment and a therapy appointment (and the first day of a week of vacation). I scheduled these appointments on one of the many really down days I’ve been experiencing lately. My depression and oscillating moods impacts me at home every day but it’s finally gotten to the point where it’s impacting my work as well in that there are more and more days when dragging my ass out of bed feels like a herculean accomplishment. So when I realized I was using sick time for getting to work an hour late or two hours late, I decided to seek help from both the therapist I had gone to during my divorce, and from the medical profession.

So, I met with a new-to-me Dr at my primary care office a little bit ago.  He’s referring me to a psychiatrist because we agree that medication in conjunction with therapy is the way to go. And, since I may have a form of bipolar (though never officially diagnosed), an official diagnosis is needed as apparently the meds to treat depression and bipolar are different and they don’t always play nicely together.  So, I’ve contacted my insurance provider to get ideas on what I need to know and some referrals. The first Dr’s office I contacted is closed to new patients.  Of course they are… 2nd one apparently does both medicine and therapy. They advised me to check with my current therapist to see if she has some recommendations. And/or, I need to call my provider back to see if I can see both. Sigh. I’m reminding myself that I have excellent insurance at very low cost so having to jump through these hoops is not the end of the earth.

Now, back out to go see my therapist and get myself on track. Ironic thing about today is today is a good day made better by glorious weather. So it feels weird and oddly disconnected to talk about when I’m depressed when I’m feeling better. Sigh. It’s all weird.

Every so often, I listen to TED talks. I use the mobil app and have it create random playlists based on what I’d like to hear. As usual, today I picked “inspired”. And they did just that. So much so that I’m going to try something new for 30 days. Actually 3 somethings that total 30 minutes a day.

I don’t know about you, but I waste WAY more than 30 minutes in any given day. The things that I’m going to do are:

1. Spend at least (or just) 5 minutes a day cleaning one thing.

2. Spend at least (or just) 10 minutes a day walking outside of work (as in before or after).

3. Spend at least (or just) 15 minutes a day writing anything creative (poem, prose, blog post, essay, review, rant, whatever).

I debated starting today but like the idea of starting August 1st better so this is sort of advanced warning and/or accountability.

I feel like I’m learning how to sleep again

Like it’s something my body forgot

Without you next to me

I can’t relax

Can’t let down my guard

This feeling, this need

Buried in me like a seed

Dormant, it sleeps

Even when I cannot

So I wait patiently

For you to water my soul

With your own need

With your love

Knowing that only then

Will we both remember

How to sleep

Again

I’m torn

Torn between running and hiding

And finding a way to fight back

There is a constant stream

Of violence

Hatred

Negativity

Stupidity

Arrogance

Fear

Greed

Brutality

Where has humanity gone?

The safety and security

Of our neighbors and children

Has taken a back seat

To corporate greed

And some people’s need

To play with weapons most deadly

There’s nowhere to hide

From abuse and genocide

In some places and times

It happens quickly en mass

But here it’s a dozen at a time

So if I can’t hide, what do I say?

There is no logic in this

So the arguments fall on deaf ears

Too scared for their own

To risk disarming

They are all so charming

Until they are identified

As the most recent perpetrator

Whom no one knew could be capable

Until it’s too late

There is no one to protect us

From those who are supposed to protect us

When leaders are followers

And corporations masters

Pitting us against each other

Slight of hand of hate

While they take and take and take

We’re still dealing with slavery

As they make slaves of us all again

Only now it’s more the women than the men

Our bodies aren’t our own

We are property of the idiocracy

Too often fighting amongst our own.

Then there are issues of race

We’d rather not face

So we find convenient victims to blame

We can’t call out their names

Because there are far too many

But no one willing to change

Since there’s nowhere to go

No path of flight

No safe ground

I guess I don’t have a choice

But to figure out how to fight

How to scream from the rooftops

Like the crazy woman I’m fast becoming

The insanity of this world

Driving a bit into my brain

Crazy for an ounce of peace

I was broken

The world had chewed me up

And spit me out

Onto the concrete below

Leaving me gasping for air

I didn’t care

If I lived or died

I tried to keep going

But knowing what a failure I’d been

So many sins committed

Made me sure

I was unlovable

Useless to all

Then I met you

Also less than whole

Visibly bleeding

From so many gashes

And slashes to your soul

The scars of every time

You’d let yourself

Or someone else down

Still puffy and painful

When your only fault

Is you were human

Less than perfect

By design

But now you are mine

And I yours

Joined forever

Not by some artificial construct

But because the pieces

Of what’s left of me

Are match and mate

To all that’s left of you

And when you take me

In your arms

Held fast skin to skin

It is akin to dying again

And I’m once again

Gasping for air

As you play my body

Like an instrument

I feel the surf

As heaven and earth

Conspire to end us

As wave upon wave

Of music and pleasure

Wash over us both

Leaving us battered and bruised

Yet soothed in ways

Too difficult to comprehend

You have mended

What damn near ended me

All while leaving me broken again

But this brokenness

Fixes the mess

I once was

And I am whole with you

And now we are broken

Together.

You taught me so many things over the years

Bits of trivia, odd and disconnected

From those rare moments

When we connected

And many lessons

In what not to do

When I swore to anyone who would listen

That I would not grow up to be you

I knew so little of grief

While you were still here

But since you left

I can’t count my tears

Previously, I was sympathetic

To those grieving

But I had no understanding

Of what they might be needing

I’d lost some relatives,

A friend, and others

But nothing could prepare me

For losing my mother.

A piece of me went with you

Leaving a perpetual ache

That you simultaneously filled

With a bit of grace

Now when I see someone

Experience death’s pain

I think of you

And this lesson again

I know they’ll have good and bad days

But the pain never ends

I just hope I can help lessen it

And be a better friend

Thanks, Mom.