Best Friends Forever

Tags

Adopted daughter, Friendship, N.M., New York, Renewal, Santa Fe, Santa Fe on Foot, St. John's College

“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”
– Marcel Proust

“Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It’s not something you learn in school. But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven’t learned anything.”
– Muhammad Ali

“Anything is possible when you have the right people there to support you.”
— Misty Copeland

It’s been said that friends are those rare people who ask how you are and wait to hear the answer. Throughout my long life, I’ve been lucky enough to have friends who genuinely listen. Apparently I’m a good listener, because it seems that they use me for a sounding board as well. The better friends we are, the more fine-tuned the listening.

Over the past decade of blogging, I’ve seldom written about Friendship, a topic dear to me. Now’s the time! Their names have all been changed, but everything else is true. Of all my friends of the past, Rebecca comes most vividly to mind. We were both writers, both single mothers, both associated with St. John’s College in Santa Fe, New Mexico…Our lives were in transition, we were going through similar passages.
I met Rebecca in 1983 at a book and author reception at St. John’s College. She was writing young adult novels for Scholastic Publishers and I was a freelance journalist who dreamed of getting a book published. She worked for St. John’s in the Admissions Office; I was a student in the Graduate Institute. Our children — her son and daughter and my two sons — were the same ages. I admired her ability to juggle a job, motherhood and writing books. She respected my juggling act, which included training for and running marathons. She understood my issues about being an adopted daughter. We were both also dating men who were friends. We celebrated holidays together, hiked and camped, immersed ourselves in the life or our city, Santa Fe: we were a family.

Rebecca inspired me to proceed with plans for a guidebook featuring walks, runs and bike routes around Santa Fe. She believed in me and my project; thanks to her encouragement, I found an independent Santa Fe publisher.l The result: Santa Fe on Foot appeared in 1986 and it has been in publication, updated every few years, ever since. Meanwhile, Rebecca sought a job that would take her closer to the New York publishing world. She landed one with the City University of New York. She and her children moved to the east coast, ending our wonderful proximity but not the friendship. Shortly after her move, Rebecca met the love or her life, Daniel. They married and began an enviable life of work, adventure and travel.

For thirty years, Rebecca and I kept in touch and spoke about getting together. Years slipped away, and it didn’t happen. It took a tragedy to reunite us. Daniel died, very suddenly, two years ago in May. The sudden loss brought Rebecca and Elaine back to a former closeness. Knowing how challenging it would be to face Christmas alone, I invited myself to spend the holiday with her. It was as though no time at all had passed. The time and distance between us fell away and as we shared the magic of New York at Christmas time. We renewed a friendship that ran deep, and it took on a new life. Truly BFFs. And thank you, dear readers, for listening.

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5 Ways to be your Own Best Friend

Tags

adoption, Authenticity, Friendship, Resourcefulness, Self-realization, serenity, Sysiphys

Some days it’s hard to realize you are gaining on it.

The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face us with the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.
-Henry Nouwen, Dutch-born priest and writer

For the most part, I enjoy a sense of progress in my adoptee’s journey toward wholeness. Some days, however, I feel like Sysiphys, the character in Greek mythology who pushes a massive boulder uphill, reaching the top by sundown but the very next morning being forced to start again at the bottom and push uphill all over again.

As I talk with friends about challenges they are facing, I realize that I am not alone. One does not have to be a “recovering adoptee” to find life full of problems to be overcome, tasks to be accomplished and conundrums that seem to have no end. And while I am blessed to have wonderful and compassionate friends who are never to busy to listen to my latest thorny scenario, one solution I’ve found is to be my own best friend.

Having said that, I’m offering five ways to nurture and appreciate yourself:

1. Let the past be the past. Do not hold grudges against yourself.
2. Remember, when troubles seem to be ganging up against you, that “Mama said there’d be days like this.”
3. Be true to YOU. As far as your self-definition is concerned, be an island. Quit comparing yourself unfavorably with others. Jealously isn’t called the “green-eyed monster” for nothing.
4. Work on fine-tuning your sense of humor. Learn to laugh at yourself.
5. Remember that YOU are not your thoughts.

Life is like a river. We can either enjoy the journey, rowing gently down the stream, or we can let our emotions control our thoughts, feeling a vague dissatisfaction and lack of contentment. One very powerful way to row gently down the stream is to treat yourself as you would a dear, cherished friend.

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Join Elaine for blog posts, published monthly on Mondays. Wide-ranging topics, from travel, hiking, nature, daily living, to personal development. If you are involved in the adoption triangle (adoptee, adopted parent or birthparent) and would like to contribute a guest post, please contact her. We’d love to hear from you!

Adopting a New Year

Tags

adoptee, Albany, Friendship, Holidays, New Mexico, Niverville, Remembering, Renewal, Santa Fe, The New Year, Travel, Upstate New York

I’ve always believed that if you want to see where you’re going, it’s advisable to see where you’ve been. This holiday season allowed me to do just that…

I’m in love with a new part of America! (New to me, that is.) My friend Deborah Aydt Marinelli, a soul sister with whom I spent years of my much younger life,invited me to spend Christmas holiday with her in Niverville, New York. Because my sons and grandchildren wouldn’t be coming to visit until the end of December, I decided “Why not?” It would be only the second time I hadn’t spent Christmas in Santa Fe. The first time was when I travelled to India to research a novel. (That’s Clara and The Hand of Ganesha, to be completed in 2019).
Deborah is one of my most brilliant and accomplished friends. She’s a PhD in literature, a professor, world traveler, author of over a dozen books, mostly young adult novels. After losing her beloved husband Larry in the spring of 2018, she came to Santa Fe, New Mexico, to revisit old, formerly familiar places. We spent time together. Our mutual Santa Fe years, in the 70s and 80s, had created in us a deep bond, one that survived the 30 years that had passed since we’d last seen each other face to face. She knew my children when they were in elementary school; I considered her son and daughter as part of my own family.

Kinderhook Lake from Deborah’s window

When I accepted her gracious invitation to visit for Christmas, I fully expected to help her with estate and business matters. Having been through the process of losing a husband, I would be the supportivel amanuensis. Instead of that scenario, however, she treated me to a tour of the area around her hometown of Niverville, New York.
We enjoyed a magical performance of The Nutcracker in Albany. Other days found us at a matinee of the new Mary Poppins movie, and a beautiful program of Lessons and Carols at a Dutch Reform Church. I went with her to a Friends meeting in Chatham, we relished lunches at little general stores and country inns, feasted on shepherd’s pie at the Beckman Arms Inn in Rhinebeck, New Yorkthrough. The Beekman Arms has hosted many luminaries throughout the centuries, including President George Washington. Deborah invited nine of her friends on the 25th and we enjoyed a magnificent turkey dinner with lavish trimmings.

The Egg Performance Space in Albany, NY

After Christmas day, we traveled by car, bus and the subway to meet a friend for lunch in New York City. After lunch, we walked all over Greenwich Village and the West End, including along the iconic Highline. We passed by the former brownstone apartment of poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, popped into galleries, found post-Christmas 80% off sales at small boutiques. Two sweaters for the price of one? Who could resist?
We drove through the countryside to attend events.The rolling land around Niverville and Albany is lovely. Forests, farmland, fields of sheep and llamas: a refreshing change from the high desert environment of northern New Mexico. We passed by the home of Robert Frost, Bard College, the Culinary Institute of America (CIA), the Village of Red Hook. Many villages, boroughs, and hamlets exist cheek and jowl in this corner of our country. Except for the often overcast skies of Winter (I’ve resided in the sunny Southwest too long), I could live there quite happily.

The Beekman Arms in Rhinebeck, NY

Nine days flew by. The visit, all too soon, came to an end. The best part had been reuniting with Deborah. I invited her to the sunny Southwest for Christmas 2019, and we vowed to keep in closer touch throughout the year. I’ve always believed that if you want to see where you’re going, it’s advisable to see where you’ve been. This holiday season allowed me to do just that. Discovering upstate New Year, an old friendship made new again, walking around The Big Apple: all of this comprised a grand finale to 2018.
May YOUR 2019 be full of health, happiness, prosperity and productivity. May we bridge the gaps with those who do not share our beliefs. As Gandhi put it, may we be the change we wish to bring. HAPPY NEW YEAR one and all!

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What was the best part of your holiday? Feedback invited! Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on life as seen through adoption colored glasses.

Adopting Life in the Slow Lane

Tags

Acceptancetion, adoptee, adoptee restoration, aging, Friendship, healing, Hiking, Injury, Railroad Tracks, Rails to Trails, Santa Fe Southern

Last Fall, I went from being physically fit to feeling 100 years old…

I expected to be much better by now. It’s been eight months since the hiking accident that laid me low. On September 22 of 2017, I lost my footing and fell on my back into the Nambe River. Then, with the help of friends (they were further ahead on the slippery uphill riverbank but quickly responded to my shouts for help) I was able to stand. They fished me out of the Nambe River, where I’d landed on boulders, and walked me a torturous three miles from forest to parking lot. Next stop, the Emergency Room, where it was declared “No broken bones.” I was told to get physical therapy, which I did twice weekly. After two months, I was worse than ever. Finally, my doctor ordered an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging). Voila! There it was: a compression fracture in my lower spine. I opted against surgery, instead letting the vertebra heal naturally. The neurosurgeon told me the vertebra would take several months to mend on its own. I fully expected that I’d bounce back. After all, I was one who’d endured injuries from nine marathons and years of skiing. Surely I would improve with time and physical therapy.
Instead, the months dragged on and I got worse. My back had a mind of its own. The lumbar region rearranged itself (for lack of a better way to describe the situation) and I developed a pinched nerve. Help!…Was there no end in sight? I’d tried every therapy in the book, and fitness still eluded me.
I’ve had to say goodbye to the old ME and realize that with age comes much, much longer healing time. Gone are the days of hiking to Spirit Lake, Deception Peak and Santa Fe Baldy. Or even Atalaya, Picacho Peak and Sun Mountain. All of these are favorites of Santa Feans, and they used to be mine as well.
Whether I like it or not, now begins a new normal. Maybe not forever, but at least in the near term. I’ve been limited to routes that have little up and down. One such discovery is the trail that goes along the railroad tracks for the Santa Fe Southern. The line used to run from Lamy to Santa Fe. It is now defunct, but the tracks remain. Better known as “Rails to Trails,” it is-conducive to peaceful rambles. It’s also a popular byway for mountain bikers. Last Saturday, my friend Joalie and I walked the Rails to Trails for half an hour before seeing anyone else.
Finally, another traveler. It turned out to be Hope Kiah, a friend from long ago. Hope was my first webmeister. We’d met in the 1980s, a time when I promoted the first edition of Santa Fe on Foot, a guidebook that is still in print. Having a website then, long before everyone had gone online, was a big deal. Hope, who was riding a super-cool electric bicycle, was as amazed to see me as I was to see her. We stopped and chatted. It had been years. A wonderful reunion, out there in the middle of nowhere. The distant Sandia Mountains and high desert all around us, we caught up on our lives before she motored on to her home, some ten miles south and Joalie and I walked the mile back to our car. Life in the slow lane has its gifts.

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Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on the world as seen through adoption-colored glasses. She is currently writing a sequel to her latest novel All the Wrong Places. Your feedback is always welcome.

Adopting Moon Mountain

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Adventure, Climbling, Encouragement, Friendship, Moon Mountain, New Mexico, Santa Fe, Sun Mountain, Wandering

In every walk with nature one receives far more than (s)he seeks. -John Muir

Do you have a favorite walk or hike? Mine is climbing up and down Sun Mountain (“Monte Sol” to use the Spanish name). A short hike but a great workout, a little under a mile, an 800-foot gain in elevation. It starts out mildly, spiraling upward on a piñon-studded slope, then becomes rocky and steep. The curves segue into sharp zig-zags, better known as switchbacks. After half an hour or so, one reaches the summit for a rewarding, panoramic view of Santa Fe below, the Sandia, Jemez and Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the distance. Closer in, one views Atalaya Mountain, Picacho Peak and even closer up, Moon Mountain.

Mountains ~Moon to the left, Sun to the right

I’ve hiked Sun Mountain hundreds of times, too many to count, but I had never tackled its sister peak, Moon Mountain. Even though Moon is only 100 feet taller than Sun, it’s a far more challenging hike. Not much in the way of an actual trail, rough, scraggly, slippery terrain and more boulders to scale. Two weeks ago, I decided to take it on. My neighbor Joalie (https://tinyurl.com/mcsll7x) and I set out on a fine Saturday morning, prepared for exploration, adventure, and challenge.
That day, we were to experience all three!
8 a.m. Starting from Santa Fe Trail, where there’s an official trailhead, we hiked up the user-friendly route. Lots of people out today. Sometimes solo, but often with a dog or a child in tow. The view from the top is magnificent. Not only the three mountain vistas described in my first paragraph, but also Santa Fe’s south side stretched out below. We didn’t linger. Rather, we started down the south side of Monte Sol, never finding a path but instead zig-zagging across underbrush and rocks, aiming toward the valley between Sun and Moon.
We’re the only hikers around. At last we reach a sort of neutral zone, a scrubby area between the two peaks, and that’s were the adventure begins. We climb up through a piñon forest hoping to find a Moon Mountain trail that Joalie has heard about. Does it even exist? Slow, steady slogging; hard work: this makes Sun Mountain seem easy.
Unexpectedly, Joalie spots a trail snaking across the incline just ahead. Though there is no sign, we realize that it can only be a trail leading to the top of Moon. Great! We are happy to be following a route rather than haphazardly guessing where to go next. All is well until the trail seems to end in a huge outcropping of boulders. Joalie starts right up but I am incredulous. Isn’t there a way around? Maybe we could find another route? No, it’s up or nothing.
Telescoping my trekking poles into foot-long packable size and putting them in my knapsack, I move myself up one big rock after another. Joalie, the younger and nimbler of us, is up above, having switched to the spider mode. No sooner have we climbed one batch of rocks than another looms above. Will they never end?
I feel over-terrained, unable to continue. “Really?” I say aloud, not expecting an answer. Joalie, from above, calls out “Just take your time. Only 100 feet more to go.” The reason she knows that is because Moon Mountain is exactly 100 feet taller than Sun and before we started the boulder climb, we looked across the valley to the top of Sun. OK, I tell myself, I can’t go back down, I can’t stay here clinging to a rock, the only choice is to keep going up.

View from the top of Moon

A saying comes to mind: “Hard by the mile, a cinch by the inch.” Does that apply to today’s hike? It’s not what I’d call a cinch. Rock by rock…at last, we reach the top. The panoramic view is exhilarating. We walk around a bit at the top of Moon, then enjoy an al fresco lunch. Joalie shares her homemade nori rolls, I offer cheese and homegrown pears. The day is getting on, so we decide to head back down a “back way.” Rather than climbing down the boulders, which would be more precipitous than either of us want to undertake, we will go down Moon to an arroyo which we think will lead us back to Santa Fe Trail. Instead, we meander for another hour. At last we end up at St. John’s College and walk along the road to our Sun Mountain Trailhead, where, five hours ago, the adventure began.

It’s been a beautiful outing, and I’m reminded of J.R.R. Tolkien’s famous saying “Not all who wander are lost.”

Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on adoption and life. Your feedback is invited!

Adoptee’s Poetry Monday

Tags

adoptee, Adoption Month, Amelia Island, Atlantic Ocean, Attitude adjustment, Empowerment, Florida, Friendship, national adoption month, Searching

Note from Elaine: Just remembered that November is National Adoption Month! When I was adopted at the tender age of five, I adjusted to a whole

Seashells remind me of simple pleasures

new paradigm. A load of baggage came with that. My personal silver lining might have been “adaptation” and “resourcefulness.” (I’ve been told that these are some of my best traits.) Like many, I am striving to give the recent election results a positive interpretation. This reflection (by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat) was sent to me by dear friend Joalie, one of the smartest women I know. I’m passing it on to you, dear readers, in the hope it will help you as much as it did me.

A PRAYER AFTER THE ELECTION

Today mourning and celebration commingle.
Jubilation and heartache are juxtaposed
In neighborhoods where lawns proclaimed
Support for different candidates, on Facebook walls
And Twitter streams where clashing viewpoints meet.

Grant us awareness of each others’ hopes and fears
Even across the great divides of red state and blue state,
Urban and rural. Open us to each others’ needs.
Purify our hearts so that those who rejoice do not gloat
And those who grieve do not despair.

Strengthen our ability to be kind to one another
And to ourselves. Awaken in us the yearning
To build a more perfect union. Let us roll up our sleeves
Whether today we feel exultation or sorrow, and together
Shape a nation of welcome and compassion.

Let ours be a land where no one need fear abuse
Or retribution, where every diversity is celebrated,
Where those who are most vulnerable are protected.
May bigotry and violence vanish like smoke.
May compassion prevail from sea to shining sea.

By Rabbi Rachel Barenblat

 

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Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections about adoption, hiking, and life. I’d love your comments. Include your email if you’d like to continue a dialogue. Thank you for reading my blog!

Visiting the ocean: Fernandina/Amelia Island/Florida

Adopting Tracie

Tags

adoption, Advocacyo, Friendship, Neurology, Nurturing, University of New Mexico, Waiting

Note from Elaine: ELISE ROSENHAUPT and I became friends through the “Homegrown Authors” table at Santa Fe’s Farmers Market. In talking, we concluded that “adoption” has many meanings. Elise’s guest post will be of great interest to anyone who’s cared for others, not necessarily in an official capacity, but as a compassionate human being. If you’ve ever helped someone who’s dealing with an a hospital hierarchy, you will relate to Elise’s story.

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In my book, Climbing Back: A Family’s Journey through Brain Injury, I write “there should always be two people with a patient – one for company and love, and a second as the patient’s advocate.”

In a clinical situation, having a friend as advocate makes all the difference.

 

This story starts with a letter from a mutual friend:

Tracie has been very sick for the past several months . . . .  (dizzy, fatigued, slow speech, forgetfulness, and more). For the past 6 months or so she has been shunted from one incompetent-sounding doctor to the next with still no proper diagnosis or plan of treatment! . . . . you could be a temporary advocate.

 

What follows is a summary of what happened next.

 

At our first visit to the University of New Mexico Neurosciences Center, the physician who came in was a neurosurgeon, not the neurologist she wanted to see.

 

“You need your doctor to refer you to a neurologist,” he said. I asked the doctor to write the referral then and there.
“Now we can go down the hall and make the appointment with a neurologist,” I said.

The technician who’d emailed the referral said, “They won’t see it for a few days. Call at the end of the week.”

Tracie was ready to give up and go home.

 

I asked, “Can you print it out so we can hand carry it?”
When the scheduler gave Tracie an appointment for May 16, five weeks later, Tracie was thrilled – five weeks was sooner than her previous waits for appointments. I thought it was too long to wait.

 

May 16, I wandered the Neurosciences Center’s maze of hallways forays to find out if we’d been forgotten, during the three hours we waited, in our windowless room. The neurologist finally arrived. He thought of two likely explanations for Tracie’s troubles. He ordered an LP (lumbar puncture, or spinal tap) to learn more.

 

On July 11, the morning for Tracie’s LP, I was not allowed to accompany Tracie when they took her in for the LP, a “sterile procedure.”

 

But there had been a “mix-up” and the doctor who was to conduct the spinal tap had “gone home.” Another doctor disagreed with the first neurologist’s thoughts about the causes of Tracie’s problems. He didn’t think a spinal tap was a good idea, and wanted to explore some other possibilities.

 

When I learned this, I asked to be allowed in with Tracie.

 

“Do you have her power of attorney?” the gatekeeper asked. I didn’t, and was told once more to sit in the waiting room. Tracie was on her own.

 

The new doctor thought that Tracie was suffering from migraines. Tracie told me:

 

His recommendation was, right now, some shots which were a mixture of steroids and a numbing medication . . . .. 

Oh, my gosh, that was wicked. . . . [It was] like when you get your teeth pulled – the shot goes in, and then they move it around and shoot a little of the medicine in at a time. About three different places on each side of the base of my skull, one syringe for each side. . . .

 

We still don’t know whether Tracie was indeed suffering from migraines, or if it’s something else. I’ve learned how hard it is to be an advocate – respecting Tracie’s more forgiving temperament while having a sense of urgency on her behalf, wanting to ask more questions and to demand more responsiveness from the medical establishment.

 

I didn’t have her power of attorney! I wonder, can I adopt her, make her my sister or my daughter, so I can stay beside her through the medical maze.

 

You can read the fuller story, or watch for the updates, on my blog (see website below).

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Elise Rosenhaupt, author of the recently published memoir Climbing Back: A Family’s Journey through Brain Injury, blogs about her experiences as a patient’s advocate on her website, http://www.ClimbingBackMemoir.com. A graduate of Radcliffe and Harvard, Rosenhaupt has lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico, since 1969.

 

Elise Rosenhaupt

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Join me on Mondays for reflections on adoption, hiking and life. My newest book, Santa Fe on Foot-Edition 4, is due out this Fall. -E. Pinkerton

 

Adopting Hope in the Face of Mortality

Tags

appreciation, Attitude, Books, Cats, Friendship, Guest Posting, Hope, Mortality, Parkinson's Disease, Spontaneity, writing

Note from Elaine: Today’s guest blogger, Peggy van Hulsteyn is one of my most successful writer friends.  For the last 15 years, she has been battling  Parkinson’s Disease, and yet
she continues to write charming books and contribute inspiring pieces to the Michael J. Fox Foundation website. I hope you, Dear Reader, will find her essay as uplifting as I do.

WHEN YOUR MORTALITY CALLS, DON’T HANG  UP

-Peggy van Hulsteyn

The first time my Mortality called, I refused to answer. When the old Crone rang me up again, I told her to buzz off; she had the wrong number.

The third time she called she did away with the niceties.  Her message was brutally clear: “You have Parkinson’s disease.”

Who was this obnoxious Nosey Parker? Had she just escaped from the home for the bewildered? Could it be Yvonne, my former agent, taunting me while she imbibed the tawny Port wine favored by the Royal Braganza family of Portugal?

When I thought about it in retrospect, the mix-up was obvious. When you have a name like Peggy van Hulsteyn, people are always confusing you with the multitude of other females of the same name.

I responded: “There’s been a mistake. I know nothing about a disease called Parkinson’s. Leave me alone or I’ll report you to the local authorities!” (I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded menacing.)

So, did she politely beg off? Are you kidding? Instead, she put me on speed dial.
But I couldn’t ignore the scary seeds she had planted in my mind. Surreptitiously,  I visited three neurologists, assuming that they would tell me to ignore this hoax.

The most disconcerting thing is that the old biddy turned out to be right. I did indeed have PD! Was she one of Santa Fe’s many clairvoyants? Is it possible I had misjudged this situation?

After months of her nagging, I had an epiphany.  Ms Mortality was not the enemy, but actually a friend! Her diagnosis of Parkinson’s was a wake-up call telling me it was later than I thought. She spoke the Truth and was an unexpected cheer leader, not a naysayer. Her mantra of  “Don’t postpone joy” resonated down to my core.

I was the worst type of convert once I joined  her “Time is Short” band wagon. I am continually challenging my fellow baby boomers to plunge head first into the carpe diem pool.

I am happy to report that I am taking my own advice. I had always wanted to
have a Nancy Drew party, but felt I was too old. When I got PD, I thought “Who cares?”  So last week my favorite chums donned their best frocks and we all played girl detective while enjoying a delicious ‘50s style dinner from The Nancy Drew Cookbook. It was my best party ever.
More from the “Time is Short” list:

Don’t leap into the future; treat the present as a present.

Don’t wait for Christmas to give presents.
I bestow gifts all year round, but during the holidays I am pro-active and
work for the cure. There are many excellent PD research groups.  I have an affinity for the Michael J Fox Foundation, as Michael is short and funny, and so am I.
Be discreet about accepting invitations.  Use the word NO frequently.  Spend your time doing what you love.
I savor writing, quality time with my witty husband, having quiet lunches with dear friends. Easy traveling. Books.
Remember that little things mean a lot.
A couple of decades ago, my husband and I rescued two tiny kittens who had been dumped by the side of the road the day after Xmas.  I hadn’t planned to keep them.  But I did, and wrote three of my favorite books about them! Never has there been so much love and devotion in such small packages; for 18 years they were devoted friends who purred us through the ups and downs.
Maintain  your creativity.
On those days when it is hard to get out of bed, DON’T!!  Instead, picture  yourself as Colette who did most of her writing in bed. Whether you’re penning Gigi or writing Xmas cards, turn the experience on its head. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself,  think of your day in bed as a step toward more originality.
Carpe Diem – Seize the Day!
Don’t dwell on the past and how wonderful you were – you are still spectacular!  Don’t leap into the future; treat the present as a present. It’s a call to cultivate your garden, gather your roses and your friends, hug your cat, turn off the TV and turn on Vivaldi, write a poem, learn French, read Auntie Mame, and embrace its message to “live, live, live.”

BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR

Peggy van Hulsteyn, the author of ten books,  has written for  Yoga Journal (American and Chinese version), The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, USA Today and six international editions of Cosmopolitan. Her most recent book, THE KITTEN INVASION, is a romp that reviewers call “wonderfully witty  and original.”
.  For more information,www. pdhatlady.com

Marvelous May

Tags

Adopted daughter, Aorta, Christus St. Vincent Hospital, Dealing with Adoption, Friendship, Gratitude, Operation Recovery

The month of May casts her magic spell as spring’s promise is finally fulfilled.
 – Sarah Ban Breathnach

As an adult adoptee, I’ve always looked at the world through what I call “adoption colored glasses.”  In my experience, we adopted ones seem to invite drama and extremes into our lives, maybe even more than those raised by their original parents. Take, for example, a milestone event that befell me three Mays ago. One of my worst challenges—life-threatening surgery—turned into a blessing.

May is a time to appreciate everyday epiphanies.

May is magical for me not only because of spring’s blossoming, but because it is the month that kept me alive. I was given a new lease on life. Allow me to explain…

The surprises began in late May. Just as I was retiring from my job as elementary school librarian for Santa Fe Public Schools, I contracted an intestinal flu that resulted in multiple visits to the doctor. Blaming my “bug” on elementary school germs, I assumed that I would eventually get better. Despite antibiotics, however, I felt worse by the week. My primary care physician ordered a CT scan, and the scan revealed a seriously advanced abdominal aortic aneurism. It would have to be repaired; time was of the essence. A few days after the diagnosis, I had surgery.
I vividly recall operation day. I felt a deep sense of impending doom. As I traveled into the surgical theater on a gurney, I noticed all the details—shiny surfaces, lots of white. Soon, anesthesia took over, and I was OUT. Working for several hours, the brilliant surgical duo Doctors Poseidon Varvitsiotis and Gerald Weinstein replaced my defective aortic section with a dacron stint, sutured it in place, and sewed me back together.
My next moment of consciousness was in the Intensive Care Unit, where I would spend the next two and ½ days. Despite exhaustion and a morphine-induced stupor, I was amazed and grateful. My life had been saved!
After six days at Christus St. Vincent’s, I was allowed to go home. Friends rallied, a different pal spending the night in my guest room for a couple weeks, just to make sure I was OK. For a month, I was very feeble and could get about only with the help of a walker. It was a chore to eat, to dress, to do anything at all. Following doctor’s orders, I took a siesta every afternoon. When I was at last able, I took a daily half-hour walk outdoors. Along with resting and walking, I edited, proofreading the final galleys of my memoir, The Goodbye Baby. Though later than I’d intended, the book was finally ready for publication.
So, my surgical event is history. The operation and ensuing months of recovery made me realize that, in the big picture, it does not matter if I meet personal deadlines exactly as I’d envisioned. After my brush with mortality, I adopted a new attitude. Every day, I celebrate the gift of life. And it all happened in the month of May.

Join Elaine on Mondays for reflections on adoption and life!

Five-Step Program for Adoptees

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Attitude, Authenticity, Dealing with Adoption, emotions, Five-Step Program, Friendship, Personal growth

The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face us with the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares. -Henry Nouwen, Dutch-born priest and writer

Our feelings are very important. They count. They matter. The emotional part of us is special. – Melody Beattie, Author of Codependent No More – How to Stop Controlling Others and Start Caring for Yourself

Learning to “friend” yourself pays great rewards

Maybe it’s the transition from summer to autumn, but lately nearly everyone I know is carrying a heavy sack of problems that keeps life from being fulfilling. I’ve always prided myself in being a good friend “in time of need,” a resourceful adviser, stalwart and supportive pal, a woman who listens without judging. My wonderful community of “amigas” are much cherished, and we support one another in many ways.

Why, then, do I find it hard to be a friend to myself?  Clearly, a barrier is that old grief that began with the initial wound of adoption. Nancy Verrier in her book by the same title calls it The Wounded Heart.  I’ve come a long way on the road to adoption recovery. No matter how hard I resist, however, when life becomes too challenging the thought seeps in: “My mother gave me away because I wasn’t good enough.” Children believe that they are the cause of everything around them, and adopted children often become their own worst enemies.

Adult adoptees need to guard against the old grief, the invisible wounds, the doubts that spring from having been adopted. It takes special effort to befriend oneself. Here’s a list of ways to nurture and appreciate that adopted self:

1. Be gentle. If you were advising your dearest, most cherished pal about a situation, what would you say or do? Treat yourself as kindly as you would that best friend.

2. Stop depending on external validation and approval. Such seeking is Ego-based and tends to break your heart. Comparing yourself with others is bound to end up badly. (Here, as throughout my post, I can relate only my own experience).

3. When troubles pour down, remember that, like rainstorms, they will pass. Think about this: If you fast-forwarded to a year ahead, many of today’s problems would not even be remembered. Those ills, would, of course, be replaced by new ones, which in turn would be replaced by others. To be alive is to have problems. As you face them, be a kind, loving friend – TO YOURSELF.

4. Spend time in nature and appreciate the beauty of every season. Whatever your favorite outdoor activity, try to do it five times a week. Biking, walking, running or hiking: They are good for not only cardiovascular health but also for ones emotional state.

5. Fine tune your sense of humor, especially the ability to laugh at your own foibles.

No one ever promised us that life would be easy, but it is made richer and more enjoyable with the help of friends. There just might be someone who is waiting to be your new best friend: YOU. Try including that new friend in your thoughts and actions. Practice befriending yourself this month and see what happens. You just might gain a new BFF!

Join Elaine every Monday for reflections on adoption and life.