Thoughts Over Tea

I woke up at 6:30 this morning and, this so rarely happens, I vividly remembered the dream I was having. It involved three friends from three distinct phases of my life:

• BC, a close friend whom I met at TAMS
• PM, a friend I had at university whom I wish I hadn't lost touch with
• DJ, a friend from elementary school. We still follow each other on social media but rarely communicate.

The dream also involved live music at a restaurant, my current boss (the superintendent) saying hi to me & my group of friends, and the coolest clock that seemed to be a Dalí of the Danse Macabre.

Once I realized that my brain did not want me to return to bed, I started my usual morning routine of taking care of the dogs. Being on autopilot, I was able to let my mind wander freely. Now I'm sitting on my front porch swing with a cup of tea and my laptop, tapping out the thoughts I've had so far today.

I'm pondering the fact that I was taught it was holy to serve others and put myself last. I do believe that is true but it's taking conscious effort (and therapy!) to learn the other half: it is not selfish nor sinful to take care of myself. It's not selfish to say no to the people I love. Some day I will learn that it's ok to have needs but that lesson seems to be quite difficult for me. 

The difficulty with learning to say no is that everyone loves you if you always bend to their needs and desires. It then feels like they will stop loving you if you start thinking about your own needs and desires. I'm slowly learning that it's ok if someone's mental image of me is a villain. I know my motivations. I know who I am.

So where does that leave me? I'm 38 years old learning life lessons I wish I had learned years ago. I'm trying to accept that I will never have every aspect of my life exactly as I want it. I'll work on pieces of it here and there and trust that I'm moving in the general direction of where I want to go. I'm hoping to figure out how to be more accepting of my own mistakes and be more willing to make them.

I have no clue how to tie up this post neatly. Seeing as this is my personal journal so the only rules are the ones I make I will end this thusly:

I'm learning to be more me everyday. If you have a problem with that, *~* fuck off *~*.

-Clare G. S.

I Might Be a Volunteer

Yes, the title is correct. I might be a FIFA volunteer but I'm not sure. Here's what has happened in the past week:

Friday, May 23 - I receive an email from FIFA offering me a role as a volunteer on the Accreditation team! (For my BCCC friends, it's what we would call Registration) I click the button to accept the offer. I quickly have access to more areas on the app. I read through the paperwork to accept my role, accept the code of conduct, etc. 

Saturday, May 24 - The FIFA app now has even more areas I can explore. I can start some online training, I can use the group message for my team, and I can pick my schedule. When I go to pick my schedule, the only dates available are May 26 through June 12 and it's only Monday through Friday. Of the shifts available, I could theoretically take a shift each Friday in June (2 shifts). However, we are required to sign-up for a minimum of eight shifts. I go into the app and click on the Volunteer Support Channel (it's like submitting a help ticket) It says that the average response time is 48 to 72 hours but it may take longer during the tournament period. I fill out the form, receive an automated email confirmation, and wait.

Sunday, May 25 through Thursday, May 28 - I go ahead and start some of the online training. I check my email daily but I don't receive anything from FIFA except automated reminders to sign-up for shifts.

Friday, May 29 - I still haven't heard anything and I've been very busy at work. That evening I send a message in my team's group chat explaining my problem and asking what I should do. I know the team lead is on there so I'm hoping they can give me some advice.

Saturday, May 30 - All the app access I gained a week ago has now disappeared, including access to the group chat. However, I still get notifications whenever someone posts a message in the group chat. The message when I open the app states that I didn't book any volunteer shifts so I may be dismissed from the volunteer program. It also states that if I need help with scheduling, I should put in another ticket in the Volunteer Support Channel. 

The message I currently see on the app stating I might lose my volunteer position.

I plan on entering another ticket. I have to admit that this is an emotional roller coaster. I really want to volunteer in the World Cup; I don't care what role I have! It's so frustrating to get so close to my goal and then for it to suddenly disappear without any real communication. I'm trying to stay positive but as the tournament gets closer, I'm feeling like it's unlikely I'll get to volunteer. Here's hoping things turn around soon.

-Clare G. S.

The Newest FIFA World Cup Volunteer

. . . is not me but I'm not out of the running yet. About 10 days ago I finally got an update from FIFA: I could be on their reserve roster. In other words, if a volunteer is not able to fulfill their duties, I might be offered their spot. I accepted the reserve roster role and I'm still checking my email semi-weekly to make sure I don't miss any updates. 

The long-awaited email from FIFA

In familial news, my mother-in-law and father-in-law have moved into their new home. It's only a 10 minute drive from us. It's already been really nice to be far enough away that we have our own space but close enough that we can easily hop over there to drop off things or just say hi.

My life feels like it might be getting back to a pace that I can handle. There are still plenty of tears when I think about my dad. Just today I received in the mail a note I had written to the tooth fairy at least 30 years ago. The accompanying explanation from my mom told me that she had found the note in the drawer of my dad's nightstand. My first instinct is to say, "I can't believe he kept it for so long!" but then I remember how much he loved all of his kids. Of course he kept little keepsakes to remind him of those cherished memories.

I don't want to end on something quite so emotional so let's talk about band! After over 15 years without playing my French horn, I finally picked it up again last June. The local community college has a summer band program that is open to all musicians in their teens or older. A friend of mine told me about it and it sounded perfect for me; I could start playing my horn again in a low-stakes setting. I had a blast last year so I'm doing it again this year. We have rehearsal twice a week and then a concert after 4 weeks. Last year our pieces all came from musicals. This year will all be American composers since our country will soon celebrate 250 years as a nation.

That's all the news worth reporting. Here's hoping that the next few months will have some wonderful memories!

-Clare G. S.

Sundays

Sundays have become incredibly difficult for me. You see, my dad has been a deeply religious man my entire life. I was raised Roman Catholic but in an Anglican Use parish. That means that I grew up singing from an Episcopalian hymnal. A few years ago I officially converted and became Episcopalian.

I bring up all this because that means that the church I currently attend uses the exact same hymnal that I grew up with. The Sunday service is incredibly similar to the ones of my childhood (just less Latin!). The incredible irony is that I find myself unable to attend church, the one activity I know my dad would find most important that I do not miss. This morning, I was in tears before I even put on my shoes. Every minute of church brings me memories of my dad.

I think of him as an altar server, carefully attending to every detail to make sure Mass was celebrated just so. 

I think of my parents and siblings singing all of the hymns and me eager to sing with them.

I think of one of my favorite old photos of my dad: him as a choir boy, choir robes and all. And then how I've followed in his footsteps by joining my church's choir.

I think of him carefully gold-leafing the statues of St. Mary and St. Joseph. 

I think of his cremains, currently in a columbarium in the church. 

I am indecisive each Sunday morning. I want to go to church because it's a part of who I am and I truly believe it helps me be a decent human being. I want to go to church to honor my Dad. But I feel an urge to avoid church because I know it's going to hurt. I know I will start crying well before I even receive communion.

Today, I missed church and spent time with my spouse and our dogs instead. Perhaps my dad can pray for me as I pray for him. Perhaps by Sunday God will grant me the courage to face some pain with the knowledge that, eventually, it will hurt less and less.

My dad as a (grumpy) choir boy

-Clare G. S.

Louis

My dad, Louis

This isn't the post I thought I would write next but here we are. A month ago, on March 22, my dad passed away. We saw it coming but at the same time didn't. The previous Friday, I said goodbye to him at the hospital after visiting for a couple of days. I thought to myself "I'll see him in a few weeks, maybe at Easter". The next day I got the message from my brother and sister that I needed to head back to Dallas. Later that afternoon, my husband and I made it back to the hospital. We spent time with Dad. Not too long after midnight, he was gone.

I have never experienced this kind of mourning before. I like the metaphor my mom has: it's like swimming in the ocean. You see a massive wave coming and it pushes you underwater. You find your way back up and get some air. Not long after that, another wave hits. After some time, the waves are smaller and they become less frequent. Eventually you are able to keep your head above water for most of the waves. Those waves of grief can be immobilizing for me right now. Other times, it feels like he's just a phone call away. 

I don't know where to go with this post. I know that writing often helps me when I'm overwhelmed with emotions.  I think I would like to share some of the wonderful memories I have of my dad.

*As a teenager, I frequently woke up suddenly because my dad was downstairs watching The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly with the volume so high that I heard the "dun-ah-lah . .  wah wah wah".

*When I was a child, Dad often played the piano and I would dance. My favorite was the Raindrop Prelude by Chopin.

*I loved it when I fell asleep on the couch and he would carry me to my med.

*He loved our dog, Jojo, so much and she was obsessed with him. They were such a cute pair.

*Dad taught me about the cardinalities of infinity when I was in middle school. He always encouraged my love of math.

*My last conversation with him was about the etymology of the word "paradise". I'm glad that my final conversation with him was a mixture of a topic he loves, religion, and a topic I love, linguistics.

*He had the best mischievous wink.

*I remember watching and rewatching all the great British entertainment from Shakespeare's Henry V to the old Brit coms on PBS: Fawlty Towers, Keeping Up Appearances, Are You Being Served?, and Black Adder.

I'll leave with one thought that a really great therapist told me: Grief and love are two sides of the same coin. We wouldn't hurt this much while grieving it we didn't love that person so much. I love my dad so much. 

-Clare G. S.