I Can’t Hear You! Na, Na, Na, Na, Na!

There are moments in life when you don’t want to hear what’s being said. You want to put your hands over your ears, close your eyes, and sing loudly to drown out the words. Greta had acted strangely for the last few days. She was cranky, out-of-sorts, snappish. A ticklish dread formed in the back of my mind, but I refused to pay it any mind. If I ignored it, it wasn’t true. It’s like a child who closes their eyes and think that you can’t see them. I was the child closing my eyes.

I had only known Greta for three months by now, but it had been an intense three months. We e-mailed back and forth every day, multiple times a day. We talked every night on the phone. We started sharing our darkest secrets and our deepest thoughts. But I was skeptical of the friendship. I wondered if she would stick around for the long haul. Or was I a passing whim that would be dumped when things got too difficult or messy? It happened before and I expected it to happen again. Friends weren’t my specialty. Especially since Alex limited them once we were married. I never thought someone would want to be friends with me once they knew the “real me.” With Greta, there was an emotional draw, a bond that felt deeper than some friendships I had for years. It’s like we were making up for lost time. I panicked that I was going to lose Greta.

My car was in the shop getting new tires and an oil change. My husband, Alex, didn’t have the time to pick it up, so it was left up to me. Greta offered to give me a ride. We took a break from work in the afternoon and headed off to the car dealer.

“You’re awfully quiet, Kat. What’s on your mind? Do you want to talk about it?” Greta asked.

“Nah, I’m good. Just thinking.” My stomach clenched, full of wiggly worms boring nervous holes into it. I had a question to ask, but I didn’t want to hear the answer. I suspected what it would be and dreaded knowing the truth. I tried to convince myself that I was better off not knowing. I white-knuckled my purse straps as it sat on my lap.

We rode in silence most of the way. As the dealer was in sight, I told Greta that I had a question to ask her.

“Okay. What’s the question? It must be important if you’ve thought this hard about it!” She laughed lightly, chiding me for my silence on the car drive. She pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. I looked at her for a moment, worry pinching my brow.

I took a deep breath and blurted,”Do you have cancer again?” She started, surprised the sudden question.

“Yes, I do. I was waiting for the right time to tell you,” Greta replied quietly.

“Okay.”

I bolted out of the car and ran.

I’m Here For You

 

 

September 17, 2004

Hey Greta,

I wanted to let you know that I’m here for you and my heart hurts for you. I know I can’t be the friend you used to have or replace anyone. I know that completely and I don’t expect to do that, I can just be me. And while I may not know a lot about what you’re going through, I know what I’m good at and that’s being there for someone whatever they may need. I may not understand everything, but I’ll try my hardest. I’ll try my best to help you and let you know that you’re not alone in this. I know nights are the worst for you and I know that I may not have much to offer, but I’m here for you. If you hit a low and need a voice (or someone physically there), I’m here. I don’t care when it is or what time it is. I’m very serious about this. 3am? Call me. 1am? Call me. 2pm? Call me. I don’t care. I’ll keep my cellphone by my side. If all you need is just to hear someone else (regardless of topic or none), just to feel comfort, I’m here.

Want someone to talk a nonsense topic to distract you? Fine. I can do that. Need someone to just sit there and neither one say anything? I can do that, too. Need someone to listen while you vent, cry, etc.? I can do that, also. If you need me to talk to you on the phone every night, I will. If you need me physically in the house for whatever reason, I’ll do it.

Greta, I want you to know that’s what friends are for. I know what it’s like to do everything on your own and not depend on other people. Believe me, I know. I know what it’s like to hold it all in and try to keep going. You and I share a lot of characteristics in that respect. So don’t underestimate me or think I’m not strong enough. Believe me when I say I know how to be there for someone. That hasn’t changed in me. But also know that I won’t push you or whatever into anything you don’t want. I’m not like that and I think  you know that.

Anyways, I wanted you to know this and I know I wrote it in an email and didn’t “speak” it to you, mostly because I didn’t want people to overhear and I organize my thoughts better when writing. And just because I don’t speak it, doesn’t mean that I don’t mean it. I mean this very much. I know what it’s like to feel alone, Greta…very much so…and using your advice, don’t let that and other feelings prevent you from reaching out. I’m offering myself for you for whatever you need in any way, even if it means sleeping at your house sometimes.

I’m determined to help you through this, and I truly believe God put us together for a reason. There’s no doubt in my mind that our friendship is a God thing. Just takes me some getting used to it. I feel honored that you’re willing to share any part of your life with me, including tougher things you’re dealing with or have dealt with. Anyways, before I babble too long…

I’ll see you before you or I leave work…

Kat

 

Kat,

I really appreciate your offer. I just need to take some time to grieve the loss of a friend again and figure out how to move forward in light of all that has happened.

I will not hesitate to call or ask you for anything. I just am feeling kind of alone today and it has nothing to do with you. Lately, I have been reminded of all that I have lost and it is a drag.

My nights are the most difficult, but they are also the times I wrestle with God the most and sometimes I need to do that.

So thank you for your offer. I might just take you up on it sometime. But just as you have asked me to be patient, I am asking the same of you.

I am looking forward to spending some time tomorrow with you watching the Pitt and Penn (pencilhead) games. Ha ha.

So thank you again for being you.

Greta

 

Forgiveness

 

 

E-mail from Kat to Greta:

Resentment – “To feel again,” clings to the past, relives it over and over, picks each fresh scab so that the wound never heals.

Forgiveness – to release, to hurl away, to free yourself.

I think I’m stuck in the past of ungrace…unforgiveness. I hold grudges and anger against the things that have been done to me. I haven’t forgiven them, or myself. Which totally applies to something you [Greta] said…processing and going through it to find healing and grace (paraphrased). I can’t let go until I’m willing to forgive. But how do I find the strength to forgive? To offer grace? It seems I could spend a year crying out my forgiveness, and it will still linger.

“The first and often the only person to be healed by forgiveness is the person who does the forgiveness…When we genuinely forgive, we set a prisoner free and then discover that the prisoner we set free was us.”

Just a thought to ponder.

Kat

Response E-mail from Greta to Kat:

Kat,

You’re right that forgiveness plays a part in the process of healing, but I don’t think it is the first thing you need to do. You can’t force  yourself to forgive others who hurt you.

Maybe the first step is to acknowledge the hurt and talk about it and how it affected you and still affects you.

Forgiveness will come, but in its time…and maybe that isn’t now for you.

And if I haven’t told you lately, I enjoy our time together whether we discuss something serious, silly, or work related.

Greta

 

 

E-Mail From Greta in Response to Kat

Email from Greta in response to Kat, September 9, 2004.

Kat:

I want to take a chance to answer some of your questions you emailed me from last weekend.

1. How did you see what I was feeling? It was just a feeling inside me that something inside you was hurting and what I saw on the outside wasn’t really how you felt. I think God had a lot to do with it.
2. What gave it away? I could see it in your eyes. Your eyes tell me what you are really feeling.
3. Did Al and Ashley talk to you about me? No.
4. Did they recommend you talk to me? No.
5. What made you offer now? (since we don’t know each other extremely well, yet…although maybe it’s because we’re similar in a lot of ways…scary thought, huh?) It was the situation with the miscarriage that really prompted me to talk to you now.
6. What did you see? I saw the hurt and loneliness behind your humor and mask.
7. What do you see? I see someone who is scared and hurting.
8. Just some FYI’s…I don’t want this to be a friendship based on helping me (selfish thought, huh?) or always about me…I want it to be a real friendship. All I’m looking for is a friend…someone who cares, can confront, can challenge, can love and go beyond the fluff surface stage of friendship. And not be intimidated by my “tough” talk or “independentness” (is that a word?). Don’t be serious with me all the time…have fun, be dumb, be silly, whatever. I love humor and laughter. Don’t treat me like a client…treat me like you would a friend. I hate to be so serious about this and it probably shows how too emotional and intense I am, but I hate playing games (yes I know…hypocritical of me…since I did that in answering your questions at dinner…I’ll try not to). I’m more of a person where either you are or you aren’t. Believe it or not…this is how I reacted to Alex’s question of if I wanted to date…he was a bit scared of me…but he persevered (no…this friendship won’t lead to marriage). Do you understand my thoughts on this? Yes, I understand what you are saying. I don’t want you as a client of spouse (LOL). I want to be a friend, co-worker, older sister.
9. It’s hard for me to accept that you want to be a real friend to me and that you care that much. Maybe that’s one of the reasons that I’ve acted the way I have so far…I’m a skeptic, what can I say? I hope over time you will let your guard down and learn to trust again.
10. Why do I hold on to hurts so much? It is just the way you learned to cope. Why can’t I get over them and move on? When we don’t think we are able to express our feelings we bury them and hold on to them. You cannot get over them, but you can process them, heal them, and move on. Why do I carry it and not let go? (you may not be able to answer this). Because it is all you know.
11. Do you believe in soulmates? I do believe in soulmates. I have had two in my life. Do you believe God has only one person for you or more than one? I believe that God uses different people to come into our lives for different reasons. I don’t know if there is   person for you, but I hope and pray there isn’t for me. It would be a very long life alone because I know that I have had soulmates in my life. I look forward to when the next one comes into my life.

I’ll look at the other e-mails later today. I really want to be able to answer your questions before we go away this weekend.

Until I return…Greta

 

Penn State Football and Flat Tires

The first time we associated outside of work (besides the dinner), I was as nervous as school girl on a first date. The butterflies were doing back flips in my stomach. It had been four years since I had a one-on-one relationship outside of my husband, Alex. It was a Saturday and Greta had invited me over to her house that evening to watch the Penn State Nittany Lions football game. Alex and I were fanatic about the team and went to almost every home game. Alex had two tickets for this game, but he was taking his friend Scott, which meant I was stuck at home. For the most part, I was okay with it as it was exhausting traveling three hours one way for a football game (no matter how much I loved the team). If kickoff was at noon, we left home between 7 and 8am. Most times we didn’t get home until late evening. And if it was an afternoon or night game? You’re talking one, two, or sometimes three in the morning. As I said, exhausting.

But for this game, I was going to Greta’s house instead. At the time, Alex and I were house sitting for friends of his from work. We were also baby sitting, but as they were teenagers, we didn’t dare call it that. So it was house sitting with two teenagers. I borrowed their truck for the week so that Alex and I would have two cars for a change. As I drove to Greta’s, I was on edge, wondering how to make small talk, what would it be like, hoping it would go okay, worried she wouldn’t like me or like spending time with me. Can you tell I was a bit insecure?

I finally made it and the night was a blur. Greta had munchies laid out on the coffee table to enjoy while watching the game. I found out she was a Pitt fan and I teased her about how horrible they were (definitely not in the same league as PSU). We watched the game, and I tried to point where Alex was sitting in the stadium. It was hard to see because there were so many people and the camera never focused very long. And that’s it. That’s all I remember. Greta told me later that I was incredibly shy and quiet the entire time. I was so nervous and so focused on being “proper” that I never was fully present. I also knew I had to be home at a certain time to take care of the kids and wait for Alex to get home. He wouldn’t want me out too late without him.

On the way home, it poured, flooding the streets. I hit a huge pothole that I couldn’t see under a vast puddle. It sounded like a cannon boomed. I inched along a bit and heard a thwunk-thwunk-thwunk. That wasn’t good. I pulled over to the side of the road. Damn it! I blew a tire. Thank God for cell phones. I called AAA who said they would be there in approximately 45 minutes, which typically translates to an hour and a half. I sat and waited, drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel. There’s not much you can do when you’re on the side of the road and it’s pouring rain. I called Greta to tell her what happened, and grinned the entire time. I actually had a friend to call.

Do You Believe in Soul Mates?

 

Greta held my hand, quietly let me pour out my story, and never offered a clichéd response. She knew I needed to let it all out, to rail against the injustice of it all. To finally tell someone of the gut-wrenching pain that I was burying inside. Once I was done, I was spent. I had nothing left in me. I was mortified that I had blurted out my problems. It’s not something I was supposed to do. I was supposed to suck it up and soldier on, take one for the team. What would people think of me? Of Alex and I? We worked so hard at appearing perfectly happy. We couldn’t let anyone know that our precocious selves had royally botched things up.

And then I ran. Okay, not literally, but figuratively. How could someone see so easily past the walls that I had painstakingly built? I was suspicious, wondering if someone had said something to Greta, prodding her to speak to me. Did someone recommend she talk to me since she has a background as a professional counselor? Why talk to me now after all this time of me being “invisible?” Yes, I was a bit paranoid, skeptical, and unsure. Anxiety was a roiling river in my stomach. I couldn’t believe that I had told someone of our problems. What would she think of me? Of us?

That weekend, I e-mailed Greta, the beginning of a year of “book length” e-mails back and forth (okay, mostly “book length” from my end). I dumped my anxieties and suspicions on her, begging her to tell me the “truth.” Here’s what the first one looked like where ellipses where my best friend, punctuation was a luxury, and riddled with insecurity:

Hey, Greta…I know this isn’t probably what you want to see first thing back to the office, but I’ve been thinking and I figured I’d write it all so I don’t forget (which probably won’t happen). In any case…just so you know, we don’t need to discuss this at work since it can take away from work time and you getting things done. (me too…) So whatever works for you or not at all…I’m easy to please. This is just a list of questions for you…answer what you choose. You’ll discover (if you probably haven’t already noticed) I write easier than I talk. I think clearer…I don’t know why (okay…I do…but we won’t go there). Anyways…just some things to think about…maybe it’s all nonsense, maybe it’s not, I don’t know. All I ask is that you always be honest with me (don’t hide anything from me…including criticism, etc.). Here it goes:

1. How did you see what I was feeling?

2. What gave it away?

3. Did Al and Ashley talk to you about me?

4. Did they recommend you talk to me?

5. What made you offer now? (since we don’t know each other extremely well, yet…although maybe it’s because we’re similar in a lot of ways…scary thought, huh?)

6. What did you see? What do you see?

7. Just some FYI’s…I don’t want this to be a friendship based on helping me (selfish thought, huh?) or always about me…I want it to be a real friendship. All I’m looking for is a friend…someone who cares, can confront, can challenge, can love and go beyond the fluff surface stage of friendship. And not be intimidated by my “tough” talk or “independentness” (is that a word?). Don’t be serious with me all the time…have fun, be dumb, be silly, whatever. I love humor and laughter. Don’t treat me like a client…treat me like you would a friend. I hate to be so serious about this and it probably shows how too emotional and intense I am, but I hate playing games (yes I know…hypocritical of me…since I did that in answering your questions at dinner…I’ll try not to). I’m more of a person where either you are or you aren’t. Believe it or not…this is how I reacted to Alex’s question of if I wanted to date…he was a bit scared of me…but he persevered (no…this friendship won’t lead to marriage). Do you understand my thoughts on this? Am I being way too out there or unreasonable? Sometimes I can be…sometimes I think to much.

8. It’s hard for me to accept that you want to be a real friend to me and that you care that much. Maybe that’s one of the reasons that I’ve acted the way I have so far…I’m a skeptic, what can I say?

9. Why do I hold on to hurts so much? Why can’t I get over them and move on? Why do I carry it and not let go? (you may not be able to answer this).

10. Do you believe in soul mates? Do you believe God has only one person for you or more than one?

That’s all for now. You’re probably grateful. As I said, you don’t (and I don’t know that you should) need to talk about this during work hours…maybe at lunch or whatever…I don’t want to distract you from other work you have to do. I’ve managed this long…longer won’t kill me.

Take care…hope you’re having a good weekend. See you on Tuesday.

Kat

 

Why Do I Desire to be a Mom?

 

Where did this come from? This desire and expectation that I had to marry and have children and the white picket fence? I had this expectation of myself that I would be married by 23-24 years old, have a home, a good job, and my first child no later than age 26. My life was laid out before me and I saw it clearly. I reached my first goal, if you want to call it that, by marrying at age 21. Now, Alex and I were working on my second goal, to have a child by age 26.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of becoming a mother. No matter what happened in life, I knew that a child would be a part of it. Early in our relationship, Alex asked, why did I want to be a mother? I stumbled over it at the time because how can you define something that you feel is your basic right? I don’t really know if I have a better answer than it is a desire burned into the very molecules of my being.

I have always wanted to have a family of my own. There are a million reasons why and there are none. One of the reasons that I stumbled to answer the question was that some part of me believed that it was for selfish reasons. So I would have the love of a child for the rest of my life, I would be surrounded by family, I would leave a legacy in the world. None of those reasons really meant that much to me though.
For me, the truer reason why I wanted to be a mom is the yearning I felt when I talked to that little girl at the church.

“Is that your baby?” I asked her, referring to the doll she just tucked under her arm.

She ducked behind her mom, shy.

“What’s your baby’s name?”

“Pretty Baby” is what she told me as a small smile crept onto her face.

Soon she’s prattling on with me and then she’s gone. My stomach gets a knot and feels like it does when I need a snack: hungry. I want more.

I want to be a mom when I’m outside doing something I love, like gardening. I wonder what it might be like to show our child the first signs of spring, to discover the world together. Or when we finger paint together and she takes her first steps into imagination and creativity.  I long to share those parts of myself that make me—me—with a child, and to see the world anew through the eyes of my child.

Who is this child? How will the mystery unfold as she grows? This is another fascination I have with motherhood. Nature, nurture and life circumstance: how these forces come together and turn my baby into a child and then into a woman. I look forward to watching her bloom.

I imagine the difficult days too. Long nerve-wracking nights when my baby can’t sleep yet I am able to soothe her and meet her needs, or being there to help my child find her way through some of the sticky moments in life: indecision, love lost, and struggles with identity. Even though there will be times when being a mom is going to challenge me in ways I can’t even begin to imagine, knowing that I might be able to make a difference and give love and security to a child is another reason I want to be a mom.

And perhaps the most potent answer to why I want to be a mom is this: for a short time, I was lucky enough to spend time with a child who might be ours.  During those days, when I hold her close, mothering will just feel so right.

Little did I know how difficult it would be to conceive that child.