Don’t Lose Touch with Your Good Friends

 

This weekend I heard the most awful news. A good friend of mine, who I lost touch with, is very ill with brain cancer. She has a wonderful husband and three young kids. My heart goes out to all of them now.

I haven’t spoken to her in years, I don’t have her new contact information, and I am heartbroken.

I am also wracked with guilt. I have not been a good friend. I let our relationship drift away, just like the evening tide.

It is so easy to stay in touch nowadays, especially with Facebook and text messaging. But since I made the big move from New York City to Virginia, I have been overwhelmed and chronically ill. I let my busy, messy life drown out my most important friendships. Friends that I have know since I was 17.

I am now 47 and full of regret. I am writing this story so that you don’t have to be.

I met my friend when I was 17. She went to high school with my best friend in college. She came up to visit us at SUNY Plattsburgh many times. She was always so much fun, I always looked forward to her visits. We would drink and dance at the bars, we would sing the words to Paradise City and Shower the People.

I have tears in my eyes as I recall these memories, if I could only show her the way that I feel right now.

She helped me explore my wild side, she helped me laugh when times were rough, she helped me deal with my anxiety, she always knew which diner I could go to for eggs at 3:00 in the morning.

After college she showed me the beauty of New York City. Though I grew up there, she made me appreciate it so much more. She absolutely loves the Upper West Side, and let me stay with her while I looked for a job. She always knew the best restaurants, museums and bars to go to. She took me to the opera at Lincoln Center, she went to concerts with me at Madison Square Garden, she gave me culture, she showed me how to enjoy life.

She is adventurous and loves to travel. She taught me to Rollerblade by renting me blades, and throwing me into the fire of the great Central Park Loop. She smiled and said “you can do it,” as I desperately tried not to fall, zooming down a big hill trying to avoid moms and their baby carriages. Unbelievably, I did not fall, but if I did she would be there to pick me up, just like she always did.

She is a true friend, one you rarely find. She taught me how to live, love and survive in the big city. She helped me heal after a broken relationship, and helped me celebrate at my happy wedding brunch. She sent me awesome gifts after the birth of my two children.

I remember her most hanging with me at the Bear Bar in the city, drinking bear juice, and dancing on the bar to George Michael’s Freedom. We sang “I won’t let you down” at the top of our lungs. Little did I know that I would eventually let her down.

I was there for many of her birthdays, I was there at her beautiful wedding at West Point.

I only wish I was there for her now.

I wish I had kept in touch, I wish I had sent her many cards, I wish I could talk to her now to tell her how much I love her, and how much she means to me.

But I may never get that chance, and I will regret it for the rest of my life. Please learn from my mistakes. Please let those you love- especially old friends, know how much they mean to you right now. Don’t put it off.

There was this big white dog that lived in our building on East 74th Street in Manhattan, who I called the Abominable Snow Dog. At first I feared him, but then I loved him, especially when I had a few beers in me. Do not fear what you do not know, do not be afraid to share your joy and love with others.

That’s what my good friend taught me. I am so lucky to have spent so much time with her when I was younger. I am so blessed to know her and her bountiful spirit.

Friends are so special. And whether you have one good friend or many, never take them for granted. Always put effort into these friendships, always keep in touch.

Be there for the many ups and downs of life, never let a giant wave of laziness, bitterness or distance wash away a great friendship.

My friend has the voice of an Angel, and when she sings Ave Maria she could make the most hardened soul cry.

“My lost soul turns to you, and full of repentment, humbles at your feet.”

I am so sorry that my friend is so ill. I would give anything to be able to help her. I will try to let her know. I just found out her new address and sent her flowers, I hope that she gets them. I hope they make her smile.

She is a bright light in a storm, the laughter in a dull sea, and an amazing youthful memory.

James Taylor wrote that love is sunshine. I am so grateful for all of the sunshine my friend brought to my life.

And as I sit here praying like I’ve never prayed before for my friend and her family, I will hope that she knows how much she means to all of her friends, old and new. Life in the big city would not have been the same without her. My life would not have been the same without her.

I hope that she is surrounded by the same sunshine and love that she gave to everyone she knew.

I hope she knows that her light will never diminish, and the memories will never fade away.

Do I love my friend? Would I go back and do things differently if I could?

Absofreakinlutely..

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

 

 

 

 

An Open Thank You Letter To Mick Jagger

Mr. Jagger,

I’ve just read the news of Gregg Allman’s death. He was 69 years old. I’m pretty sure you knew him, especially through your association with Chuck Leavell, so I’d like to say that I’m sorry for your loss.

His passing made me immediately think of you. Though you are my favorite musician/performer of all time, I have never written you a fan letter to let you know how much you and your music has meant to me.

I truly believe that if someone has affected your life in a positive way or has meant something to you, that you should always let them know. Life is too short to hold in our feelings or praise. Hearing of the passing of your good friend David Bowie, of Glenn Frey and of Chris Cornell has made this task more urgent. I wouldn’t want to ever regret not telling you how I feel, I would never want you to wonder if you ever truly made a difference in a fan’s life.

I’m here to tell you that you have.

I have no connection to you other than through your music. I am not your greatest fan. I have never met you. I have only seen The Rolling Stones tour twice, due to budget constraints and then illness. But for 47 years your music has been a constant in my life. It has been a warm blanket when my life was painted black. It has seen me through tough high school years, wild times at college, divorce, marriage, miscarriages, birth and chronic illness. It is the one thing I have always been able to count on, it is the soundtrack of my life.

Your soulful voice and lyrics, whether from The Stones or your solo work, is as real as it gets. It’s also as good as it gets. Life is not a top 40 dance-able track. It takes us to many dark places, and through many difficult winding paths. From Staten Island, New York to sweet Virginia, you have laid the foundation and follow me wherever I go.

I am lucky to not be waiting on a friend anymore, for I have found a great partner in my husband. His thick wispy longish brown hair, slender figure, and beautiful blue eyes are reminiscent of you, my first man crush.

I can always hear your voice echo in the distance, from the realization that wild horses couldn’t drag me away from my one true love, to the joy of my children’s birth, to sitting and watching life’s tragedies as tears go by. Your music has played through it all.

Whenever I succeeded, or whenever I fell – you were always there. From eight-tracks, to albums, to CD’s, to Pandora, you help comfort and lift me up like no other performer. When I walk in Central Park, to when I seem like I’m 2000 Light Years from Home due to my persistent anxiety, you remain my companion. You help me drift away and get lost in a sea of melodies that soothe my often aching body and soul.

Though I know that you will probably never see this letter, it makes me feel good to write it. I think that we should all do good things and thank many people with no expectations. Some girls really know you, some girls really love you, this girl really appreciates you and the way your music makes me feel. Joyful, unburdened, free, passionate and alive. I will always be a wild teenager when I hear Start Me Up, tell no lies when I walk through a field of Dandelions, and when time is not on my side, I will sit and watch my children doing all the things I used to do with a smile.

Seeing you and The Stones was and always will be one of my favorite memories. I will never forget the anticipation I felt as we drove from Plattsburgh, NY to Shea Stadium back in 89′. I will never forget the butterflies I felt as you approached the stage. I will never forget the adrenaline I felt as your face was projected on the big stadium screens. I will never forget the happiness I felt hearing you sing live.

You will never be just a memory to me. You will always be a talented man who enhanced my life, and made me realize my love of music. Your voice and songs will always be a part of me, and I hope a part of my children.

I want you to know how much you have meant to me, how much you still mean to me. You have helped me get through many tough times, you helped me dance in the street.

I hope that you live many more happy years just like your father Joe. I hope that you are surrounded by the love of your beautiful children, and that you never run out of time to keep showing them how much you care.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have given to me and to the world.

Thank you for helping me realize that though God may not have given me everything I want, he gave me everything I need.

Sincerely,

Kathy, a girl with a mind and a blog of her own

Nothing’s Gonna Change Our World…Unless We Do

‘I read the news today…oh boy’ – Manchester looks like its been at war.  ‘A crowd of people stood and stared,’ they’d seen terrorism before. Beatles lyrics are currently racing around my head, music is my comfort today.

Twenty-two people killed, including children as young as eight years old. More than fifty injured. The distressing news just keeps coming. It’s getting so hard to hide my sadness and tears from my children.

How do I protect them from the news? How do I protect them from this increasingly dangerous world?

Images of the Newtown tragedy flash through my brain, as I see a mother cry for her missing daughter. People/children were once again going about their day. People/children were once again murdered.

With no warning. With no reason. With no emotion.

They are now gone. Their families are still trying to find them or find out if they are among the victims. Their families all have our sympathy, our thoughts, and our hearts. We hug our own children safe in the knowledge that they are okay today.

But what about tomorrow?

What new tragedies await all of us?

Today a bridge of pain connects us to Manchester, just like many bridges before. This pain seems unending in recent years. This pain is heartbreaking.

I wish it would stop.

I tell my anxious daughter a few details of the bombing, because I know that she will find out about it at school. I want her to hear my words first. I want her to see my face when I say this is a horrible tragedy, but this is far away, it will not directly affect you.

I never spoke to her about how I was in New York City on 9/11. How I walked for miles among traumatized ashen people. I never told her that her Aunt lost her best friend in the bombing of Pan Am 103, and worked in Tower One of the World Trade Center. I never told her how close to home tragedy has struck. But I have said those words of comfort to her before, about Newtown and a few other tragedies, because I needed to calm her fears.

My words which usually speak passionate truths were carefully edited, carefully cooled down to help her deal with the news. To help her deal with the fact that the safe little world in which she currently exists is shrinking. With each bomb blast, shooting or death from cold hands she will be unwound. Her idea of safety is slowly being liquidated to pay off the debt of her survival. Her artistic brush is forced to paint a picture of a world in frequent mourning, over mornings such as these.

When I was younger I frequently watched the news with my mom. I am not able to do this with my daughter, for it is too often filled with tragic headlines and scary events.

So instead I shield her from as much devastation as I can, surround her with love and comfortable things, and pray she will gain the strength to get through such difficult times.

I let her see me write blogs and poetry often, I tell her that getting out our emotions in a positive way is a blessing and a necessity. She hears the tap tap of the keyboard and the click click of the mouse as I pour out my feelings. I hope she always remembers these sounds. The sounds of subsistence, the sounds that help me get through my toughest times.

I am glad that she has her art to ease her mind. I hope that it always does. I hope that the stroke of her paintbrush can help her survive, thrive and put some color into this often gloomy world.

I often tell her that we should always help others when we are able to. That so many people need assistance, and that there is nothing wrong with asking for it. I tell her that it’s okay to pause her world in order to help someone in need.

After tragedies I feel helpless, sorrowful and weak. I wonder what kind of world we are leaving our children. But watching the kindness of strangers, bystanders and everyday heroes always lifts me up. These people make it possible to see the light in the darkness, the way through the pain.

I want to be one of these people. I am trying to teach my children to be like these people. The light-bringers, the change-makers, the bastions of hope. People who see others as equals and worthy of compassion. People who feel it is our duty as citizens to help lift others up, because they know we will all fall down at some point in our lives.

Manchester needs us now. The world needs us now. We must take a long look in the mirror of truth, and put an end to our apathy. I have been looking in this mirror for years, I am ready to make a difference. I realize that it all starts with me.

And as the tears flow from the sights and sounds of a city that’s an hours train ride from Liverpool, I know that nothing’s gonna change our world – unless we do.

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

 

The Phone Call

On September 25, 2016 I was diagnosed with Multiple Bilateral Pulmonary Emboli. It was one of the scariest days of my life. I have been suffering from many chronic illnesses for twenty years now, but I was never given a life-threatening diagnosis before. I have faced many rough days, and have spent many nights awake with fear, but this hit me the hardest. I didn’t know how I was going to deal with this information.

I usually work through difficult situations by writing blogs and poetry. This was new territory for me though. I never had to write about a life-threatening situation that I was in the middle of. This was not fiction, or a distant memory, this was happening now, and writing about it would make it all too real. I had to try to distance myself from it in order to survive. I had to try to forget that there are currently blood clots all over my lungs which could kill me in an instant. Which could take me away from my family, this beautiful Earth, and all that I love. This time was different. I tried to distract myself, I tried to keep busy, I tried to rest, I fought to get through the day.

I am sorry to all of you who are currently facing life-threatening diseases or illnesses. I now know how you feel in my own way in regards to what I am facing. I can’t know exactly how you feel or what you are going through, but I wish you hope, strength and lots of love.

I was told that I would have to take blood thinners for up to six months. I am extremely sensitive to medications and was not able to tolerate the pill forms of Eliquis or Coumadin. I was able to tolerate Lovenox in the hospital so my hematologist agreed to let me take it though it wasn’t the normal protocol.

My husband who is a registered nurse injected me twice daily with this life saving medication. It prevents the existing clots from getting bigger, and it prevents new clots from being formed. The shots in the stomach are painful, and have left my entire abdomen bruised and tender. I bruise and bleed very easily now and have to avoid doing anything that could result in bad injury, especially to the head. Some people do fine on the blood thinners, but since I’m so sensitive it has been very difficult for me to stay on them. I have asthma, Chronic Lyme Disease and anxiety and this medication has made all of these conditions worse. I feel strange, dizzy, nauseous and not like myself. My life has been put on hold these past four and a half months and I haven’t been able to enjoy much. I’ve barely gone anywhere besides to take my children to school.

I have not been able to write much due to my anxiety, and the fact that I feel like I can’t put into words what I’m going through until it’s over. I’m so paralyzed with fear, that I can’t think clearly. I have many trapped words in my head waiting to be out of their prison. I look forward to the day when they flow freely, dancing around the page, unencumbered, raw and beautiful.

Though I’m so grateful and lucky to be alive, I can’t wait to truly live again.

And that brings me to the phone call.

Yesterday, I had a CT  Lung Angiogram with contrast. This test will allow the radiologist to see if all of my blood clots are gone. This test will let me know whether or not I can have my life back. This test will let me know if I can breathe again, with less anxiety, and more joy. With more happiness and fun times for my family, a family I have woefully neglected for a very long time. I’ve been sad, scared and angry for too long. I pray I get the chance to make it up to them.

My hematologist is supposed to be calling me today with the results. I jump each time the phone rings. My heart starts beating very rapidly like the Tell Tale Heart. Will I be free, or left with its maddening heartbeat?

And so I wait, and in between taking and picking up my children from school, I will hope, I will pray, I will try to believe that I deserve some good news.

Let’s hope it comes soon.

The Incredible Fall: My story of Pulmonary Embolism.

I love the Fall.

It is my favorite season, one I look forward to all year long. I couldn’t wait for it this year especially. I would be fully recovered from my surgery, and ready to make wonderful memories with my family. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, Fall Festivals, long walks, birthdays and Halloween fun.

I had a rough summer, facing the turmoil of severe PMDD, and a major surgery. I couldn’t wait to be healed and get a long awaited break.

And then it happened.

I was walking my daughter to her school which is very close to our house, when I could barely breathe, and the left side of my chest hurt. My chest felt a heaviness I’ve never felt before, and my heart was beating rapidly. I felt lightheaded and scared but hid it from my daughter while I whispered goodbye.

Little did I know at the time that it could have been my last goodbye to her. My sweet precious girl.

One third of people who have not been diagnosed or treated for pulmonary embolism will die. Wow. That statistic just hit me like a ton of bricks. I have to take a moment to recover.

I walked home with my five year old son very slowly. A walk which usually takes five minutes took about twenty. I called my husband and said something was wrong and that I needed to go to the emergency room right after he dropped off our son at school. My son who is now six years old. My son who still needs me to teach him so many new things such as how to live a full, safe life with severe food allergies. My precious boy who still calls me Mama, and falls asleep by my side each night before bed.

Though I was very nervous and having trouble breathing, I really thought I had pneumonia and pleurisy again. As someone with asthma and many chronic illnesses, I get sick very easily.

I was given a bed and an IV very quickly. Soon after they gave me a full blood panel.

I was completely shocked and taken off guard when the ER doctor told me that he had good news and bad news.

My gaze fell to the floor as I tried to hold back tears.

The way that he said it scared the hell out of me. It didn’t seem like the usual I’m about to tell you that you have pneumonia look.

Bad news? I immediately thought of cancer, and of some other horrible possibilities.

The doctor told me that my D-dimer test was high and that they would have to admit me to the hospital. I thought what the hell is a D-dimer test? I quickly found out that a D-dimer test is a test which measures blood clot risk. I had never heard of it before but it is a very valuable diagnostic tool, one which started the doctors on the path to saving my life.

The good news was that I would get my own room at the hospital very quickly and be able to get a CT scan to see if there were indeed blood clots somewhere. I was immediately given the blood thinner Lovenox through my IV. Blood thinners work to prevent existing clots from growing, and toward preventing new ones from forming. I was given an echo-cardiogram and Doppler Ultrasound of my legs. Thankfully, those tests were fine.

I had never had a blood clot before, but had a few of the risk factors including supplemental estrogen from birth control pills, recent surgery and bed rest. According to the Mayo Clinic, some other risk factors may include pregnancy, cancer, heart disease, smoking, long trips, and being overweight (especially in women who smoke or have high blood pressure.)

I knew there were some risk factors from taking birth control pills, especially the Yaz pills that I was taking for my PMDD. I also knew that my recent hysterectomy/oopherectomy held such risks. I took those risks willingly, never thinking that I, a woman in my 40’s who had never had a blood clot, would actually get one.

Well, welcome to my October surprise!

I was in the hospital for three days and the entire staff was warm, friendly and very knowledgeable. I hated being there for so long away from my family, and was very frightened. The nurses, assistants, nutritionists and doctors all helped me to feel like I wasn’t alone, in between my family visits. I joked with one of the staff and called her Nurse Ratched, every time she stuck a needle into my belly. My belly which is extremely sore and bruised from twice daily injections. My belly which once held my sweet babies is now a giant pin cushion. Brief pause as I imagine Hellraisers face imprinted on my belly. Ok, back to my belly, which may be in pain, but will be the place through which the medicine is placed, to help me live again.

I took a CT scan with contrast which diagnosed me with multiple bilateral pulmonary emboli. I will have to be on blood thinners for at least six months, and take many blood tests and scans. There are other blood thinners our there in pill form, but I reacted badly to them.

The recovery differs for each patient from a few weeks to many months or years. For me, it is taking a long time. I had just recovered from major surgery when I got my diagnosis. I was out of shape, and am now extra anxious due to my new medical condition. It has been hard to breathe, especially due to my asthma, and hard to walk far distances. I had some anxiety before, but now it is at an all time high. It is hard to get things done or leave the house on many days, but I must especially to exercise to aid my recovery, and prevent more blood clots from forming. I am currently on daily medication until the anxiety improves. I am hoping that it will soon, and that when I am off of blood-thinners in March that things will get as back to normal as they can.

I face a long, scary, anxiety provoking six months, but with the help of my family, friends and many doctors, I will get through this. I will keep taking baby steps, and pray I will not have more roadblocks on the way to full recovery. I will take it day by day. I will look at the faces of my children and my husband, and thank God I am still here. I will appreciate their beautiful faces even more now. I will try to show them how much I love them until my last breath. I will work harder to make a difference because this scare has taught me that my time here is limited.

Please learn the symptoms of pulmonary embolism and talk to friends and family about this important and dangerous condition. It can affect you no matter your sex, and risk factors increase with age. Discuss the risks of using birth control pills with your daughters, especially the ones containing drospirenone which can dramatically increase the risk of fatal blood clots.

I did not know the symptoms of pulmonary embolism weeks ago. But, I did trust my instincts that something was very wrong. Going to the ER that day saved my life and now though my activity is limited, I can enjoy my favorite season once again.

I love the Fall.

Now more than ever…

 

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love and Scrabble: My Struggle with Chronic Illness

As I sit here playing Scrabble with my daughter, I am thinking of all the time that I have wasted. Quality time that I could have been spending with her, my son and my husband.

Time spent fighting Lyme Disease and Pre Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder, among other chronic illnesses.

I am surrounded by lettered tiles, a smiling daughter, and much regret. The cardboard box says “when you play games, everyone wins.” I have not been winning the last three years, I have barely been in the game. But, I will fight my heart out to get back into the game. I will fight my heart out to be there for my family once again.

As I was struggling with Lyme Disease, I overlooked the damage that PMDD was doing to my body and brain. I had not taken my diagnosis seriously, and blamed all of my symptoms on Lyme Disease because Lyme Disease has many intolerable symptoms. What I did not realize was that most of the rage, imbalance and panic that I felt was caused by PMDD.

As soon as I learned that the only cure for PMDD was surgery, I signed up. I had a hysterectomy and salpingo-oophorectomy. This decision was not taken lightly, and anyone considering it has to consult with many doctors, try a few other treatments, and do an enormous amount of research. There are many risk factors and no guarantees that the patient will feel better, but I was ready to take my chances.

My lowest point was being a prisoner in my house, in my own body. Grasping onto the couch for dear life as the anxiety and panic consumed me. Seeing my kids but not being able to play with or enjoy them. Letting them down constantly. Not wanting to be stuck in that prison anymore. Oh how I love my family, that’s why I kept going. That’s why I had surgery as soon as I could. That feeling of doom is gone, the towering prison walls are gone. Only anxiety remains. I will overcome that too.

I feel more hopeful now. The board is full of endless possibilities. Words float around like jubilation, contentment, and survival. Glorious text that I gleefully place on our Scrabble board, glad that it supplants words like despair, indignation and trepidation.

My daughter’s eyes sparkle as she looks at me. Oh how I have missed that look. She is pleased to be able to spend time with her Mama again. All these years she has needed me, I was unable to truly be there for her. She never gave up hope though. She never stopped loving me.

She laughs as she spells the word bunny. Her many freckles frame her beautiful face. I will notice these freckles more now, I will try to make up for lost time.

So many thoughts enter my mind as I sit in our kitchen. What words will I now put on the table? I will choose them more carefully. I will teach my children that words matter. That they are a reflection of who we are. That they can hurt, help or heal.

I will work hard to gain my strength back, to use my words to help bring my family closer, to help others who may need to hear them.

I have a long way to go, but I’m glad that I’m going in the right direction. The Scrabble board is in use again. My mind and body are regenerating. The words will keep flowing.

My life continues. The love continues….

Kathy ❤

Poetolgie

 

 

 

A Letter to My Children on Mother’s Day

I will always treasure every moment
I spent with you dear child
you are my baby and will always be
through many moonlight miles

I hope your days are always filled
with more happiness than you can accrue
and when I am no longer here
the moonbeams will send my love to you

Dear Children,

While you were in my belly I thought a lot about being a perfect mother. I dreamed of you under a starry sky and a bright full moon. I felt like I had been waiting my whole life for you, and I wanted to make sure you were happy. I pictured being Martha Stewart in the kitchen, having a house worthy of Better Homes & Garden magazine, and endless days of laughter, fireflies and fun.

When you arrived I knew the true meaning of love, and wanted to fulfill these goals more than anything.

What I didn’t know then was that I would not accomplish many of these objectives due to Chronic Illness, Lyme Disease and Anxiety. These dreams slowly drifted away as the pain increased, my brain got more foggy, and my strength diminished.

Though I knew that there was no such thing as a perfect mother, I wanted to be as close to perfection as possible. I set the bar very high, and I could never come close to that goal.

You are my little moonbeams, and I prayed to the moon for your forgiveness.

I read you books when I could, played games when I could, and took you to the park when I was able. I walked many moonlight miles with you, I would walk anywhere with you. I cooked you nice meals, and baked awesome allergy friendly treats as often as possible. I watched the sprinkles fall from your fingers, just like I watched the rapid passage of time.

I thought that despite my health issues, life sure is very sweet.

I would destroy the bar I set, and set a new one. This one would focus more on love than longevity, and more on feelings than frequency.

I would learn to enjoy whatever time we had together, and make memories that would last us a lifetime.

I knew that no matter what, I had already accomplished my greatest goal, bringing two incredible children into the world.

You are incredible.

Never forget that.

You show compassion when others are in pain, you hold your little umbrellas up to me to shelter me from the rain. You sit at the buddy bench with those who need a friend, you live your lives with joy and kindness that certainly does transcend. You help plant our garden with seeds of hope, you help me get by, you help me cope. You are as peaceful as little doves, have taught me the meaning of unconditional love. You are more special to me than words can say, and I will love you til’ my dying day.

I am so blessed to have you in my life.

I am sorry for my shortcomings, or for anything you have missed due to my illnesses and anxiety.

But I am not sorry that you failed to miss what the meaning of life is.

Being kind and true to yourself. Being able to put others in need before yourself from time to time. Spending as much time as possible with those you love. Never taking them for granted, never forgetting to tell them how much you care.  Love yourself, others and the environment. Never stop growing your mind, your heart, your soul.

I am so proud of you.

I am so happy that I get to spend Mother’s Day with you.

There is no one else I’d rather be with. There is no one else like you.

Thank you for all of the joy you have given me, and continue to bring to my life. I hope all that joy comes back to you two-fold.

I hope you will always remember what I have taught you.

Always live your life to the fullest.

Always remember how much I love you.

Always remember that that light that shines within you is greater than the light of any moon.

 

 

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A Letter To My Kind Hair Stylist Who Eased My Anxiety

To My Kind Hair Stylist:

When I entered the salon you worked at I was filled with anxiety for no reason. It’s just something I deal with daily. My generalized anxiety has become much worse since I developed Lyme Disease. Regular daily chores and trips to the grocery store/hair salon/mall/restaurants fill me with anxiety. I wish I didn’t have to feel this way all of the time, but for now I do. I’m working hard to overcome it, but that could take many years.

And so I made myself walk into your salon. I desperately needed a nice haircut, and I took a deep calming breath and hoped for the best. The salon was beautiful, and had a nice relaxing atmosphere. The staff were all really nice and brought you out to meet me.

There was something about you that immediately put me at ease, and that is no small feat. You had a big smile on your face and a nice, tranquil demeanor.

You brought me to your chair and asked me a few questions about how I wanted my hair cut. I answered your questions quickly as I was still nervous. Then you proceeded to wash my hair. The scalp massage really helped me to relax. I felt okay as I walked back to your chair.

I had to immediately bring up a few health issues, as my Lyme Disease makes me more sensitive to chemicals, and I have to make sure there are no nut or shellfish containing products used due to me and my son’s food allergies.

You did not roll your eyes at all I told you. You kindly and sincerely answered all of my questions, and even checked and rechecked the product labels to make sure they were safe.

Even though you were very young, you had a certain patience and understanding about you that usually comes with age.

Whatever topic I brought up, you offered words of wisdom well beyond your years. You were sympathetic, perceptive, and very knowledgeable.

I was so grateful to be able to loosen up and be distracted enough to actually enjoy my haircut for the first time in years. You have no idea how much that means to me.

After talking to you for awhile you brought up the fact that you had recently donated your kidney to a boy you had been dating for only a year. Then it all made sense.

You aren’t just a thoughtful young woman. You aren’t just a patient woman. You are an Angel on Earth.

You had actually saved someone’s life, and I was grateful to be in your peaceful presence.

You gave off an air of acknowledgement, because you’ve already been through so much.

You were able to put me at ease, because you understood struggle.

You were able to show much kindness, because you know exactly what it means to walk a tough road.

You were also able to give me the best haircut I’ve had in years, even though you are just beginning your career.

When my haircut was through, you gave me a big hug. Not a forced one, a real genuine hug from your heart. That had never happened before in my 40 plus years of getting haircuts.

It was very sweet, and special, just like you are.

I believe deeply in thanking people who have shown me or my family kindness. I believe in thanking people who make my day, or go out of their way to help others.

Thank you for putting me at ease and making an ordinary trip to the salon an extraordinary one.

You are very good at your job and I wish you all the success in the world.

I also wish good health to you and your boyfriend. I hope the special bond that exists between the two of you lasts forever.

I will be back for more haircuts and will refer my friends and family too.

I have never thought of writing a letter/blog to thank a hair stylist before. That’s because I never met one like you.

I am altering the words of Sir Elton John to say:

My gift is my blog, and this one’s for you….