those cheapie, plastic teeth that you pick up at Archie McPhee’s. 

You all are incredible in your willingness to let me just write and express the raw emotions I’ve been going through.  I had hoped that writing it out would help me move past it, and it did.  Granted, I’m not happy or eager to continue through this, and I’m sure I will still shed a tear or two.  And yet, I feel so much better.  I don’t feel fetal.  A combination of just letting it out like a good cry and receiving so much love and support - I feel good!

And today, I came across this quote by Henry Miller - which I’m certain is not a coincidence:

“Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end.

What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.“

This is going to be a one-time self-indulgent post. I shouldn’t even do it once. But it’s bothering me so much, I’m hoping by writing it out, it might lessen the power it has over me.

If you’d rather not read the mental twists and knots this teeth situation has me in, I invite you to skip it. I won’t be hurt.

————————————-

Last night, I had a specific, “real-time” dream of going in to get my teeth pulled. The dream began with me waking up from the anesthesia. I remember feeling very peaceful and rested, like I had just had the best night’s sleep. Then, the surgeon came into focus as I looked around to orient myself. He asked if I was feeling okay and told me everything went fine.

I remembered suddenly why I was there and my tongue felt around in my mouth. I felt the gaps where the teeth had been. I was surprised that I wasn’t feeling any pain, although I found I couldn’t talk (and actually couldn’t the rest of the dream).

I left the office and once I got home, I panicked. I worried I didn’t have gauze packs in to absorb the bleeding from the extractions and to help the healing process. Then suddenly, they were there. The rest of my dream was me trying to gingerly make sure the gauze stayed in place and hoping that I would heal okay.

I woke up this morning and thought to myself: at least that wasn’t a nightmare (which I’ve had) about my teeth. But now, as I’m moving through my day, I’m finding it hard to do what I need to through this wall of emotion. It’s like trying to run through thick molasses that’s up to your waist. I just want to curl up and cry.

I think part of it too is this. I’m still floored by the generosity of my friend Dana and the work she has taken on to help us and others like us.  On the flipside, I’ve had a hard time with the judgment we’ve exposed ourselves too by sharing our situation and being the face for this kind of thing. Well meaning friends, acquaintances and strangers say things that cut to the quick. I know in my head some of it is sincere questioning in an attempt to understand how we could need SO MUCH money to get our teeth repaired and restored. (I say our, but in reality, 90% of the cost is for me alone.) Questions like:

• “What have you been eating?”
• “Is it gum disease?”
• “How come you just didn’t have dental insurance?”
• “Are you *sure* you aren’t being scammed by your dentist?”
• “Do you just not like to brush your teeth?”
• “It’s your own fault you are in this situation, why should I help you?”

And so on. I confess, as much as I want to be thick skinned and a potential (for lack of a better word) ambassador for awareness and education, for the ailing health and dental care system in America, and for understanding dental infection and disease… I didn’t expect the toll it would take on my psyche.

It’s horrible knowing I’m going to lose four very visible teeth and to not be sure whether I will have the money to replace them with implants. It’s horrible feeling like I don’t want to be seen in public again after the surgery. I’m missing one tooth now and I have another on the other side that is broken. Both are visible, but not horribly so. Just dealing with those has taken an unbelievable amount of willpower. My instinct is want to shut down and hide. I don’t want to smile. I force it. I think about it every time I talk to someone. Every time. I look in the mirror and wonder if there is a way I can change my smile, without holding my lips together, to not have the gaps in my teeth not be visible. (There’s not.)

And you know, it’s not the questions so much as the context of the questions that hurt so much. There’s assumption and judgment. Again, I understand that some of these were sincere with the goal of understanding how I could be in the situation I’m in now. I understand that. And, still it hurts.

I want to both hide my shame and fight back in anger at the same time. How dare so and so assume that I don’t eat well. Do I ask a cancer sufferer what they’ve been eating? We don’t do that. But cancer is just as much caused by diet as any caries infection. My dentist told me on our last visit: “Janece, you could have had impeccable diet and hygiene and you would still be in this situation. You have a bacterial infection that without intervention would and has done the damage you are now experiencing.” I didn’t know that, so how could have the person(s) who asked that question? And still… I’m hurt.

We have dental insurance though Paul’s work, but it will cover less than 4% of the work needed. I’ve had a second opinion and confirmation on the diagnosis, prognosis and treatment that I need. I brush and floss my teeth like everyone else. And yes, I’m at fault for this because I didn’t know what was happening in my mouth until I had my first abscess nearly a year ago. I’m at fault because for years, we prioritized our money in other ways because my dental health didn’t seem to be a concern. When you aren’t covered by insurance as a freelancer, you delay and forgo doctor and dentist visits if they don’t seem absolutely necessary. In hindsight, big, big mistake.

But listen to me, I’m trying to convince you. I’m trying to convince MYSELF that I’m not someone to look down on, or to judge, or to think lesser of. And I hate that.

And my biggest fear is how I’m going to live with 4 teeth missing and not become a recluse. I don’t know if I wrote about it here - but a few months back, I interviewed for a job. The job had a crew of people for me to meet with and be interviewed by. The first three went great, the fourth asked me this: “How long have you been drug-free?” I stammered a reply that I’m not certain made sense because I was so shocked by the question.  I didn’t get a call back for a second interview.  Could have been unrelated, but I have no way of knowing. It’s how it is - we judge by appearances. I judge by appearances… god, if I could change that…

I don’t know. How do I do it? How do I go to school interviews for Amira and not be afraid they are judging her and her capabilities because of how I look? How do I get over seeing people’s eyes shift down to the gaps in my teeth? How do I feel beautiful again? Where will I find the courage to smile? I hope it’s one of those things that when you get there, you find you have the strength you never thought you would… because I just don’t see it right now.

So get this!  We Moments have a virtual date with the gorgeous Natalie and the entire Chicken Blog family! Yesterday, in the mail, Paul found a tiny pale blue envelope addressed to the ‘Moment Family’. We recognized that return address right away and had smiles on our faces before even opening it. The smiles on our faces rapidly overtook our hearts as we read an invitation from Natalie to a virtual picnic together. The date has been set, July 18th, and we will have cameras charged and CF cards purged and ready for action.

Natalie, you have NO IDEA how much this picnic invitation means. We are so looking forward to July 18th. Our hearts, as well as our picnic basket, will be brimming with goodness because of you! Thank you so very much.

By the way, Amira read the entire card and your note… getting stuck on only a few words (how proud am I?). She was as touched by it as we were!

Anyone else want to join in on the July 18th virtual picnic?  Please do!  Make a date of it, take a camera and let’s share a virtual picnic together.   Doesn’t it sound wonderful?  We’ll lift our glasses and toast what a gift it is to have incredible friends.

Right now, as I type, there is a fund raising event going on in New York City. A world renown pianist is playing and a premier cancer surgeon is speaking and incredibly smart and talented people are giving their time to be there. I sent Dana a short note to read at the event:

Two weeks ago, we were plunged into fear and emotional paralysis at the healthcare crisis we were suddenly facing. Eleven days ago, on a dime, this initiative took our fear and anxiety and transformed it into a sense of hope and possibility.

The depth of gratitude and support we feel… there isn’t a way to express it. For the last two weeks, instead of darkness, our lives have been filled with the light new friendships and daily inspiration. And most of all, it means so much to us that it has created the possibility of our situation being the doorway for others like us finding help too.

The fact that… you are here tonight and that there is something all of us can do, right now to make it a healthier and better day for each other and ourselves… inspires deep hope. We are excited by the belief that this initiative can spread, friend by friend, to build hope for the many other individuals and families who have found themselves in a crisis like we have. It really does make all the difference.

If you haven’t already, visit the Friend of a Friend Healthcare Initiative.  And please consider passing it along to your friends. The more friends that are involved, the more people are helped!

This is for Tanya - who if I remember right, enjoys lilacs.

I’m headed to the oral surgeon today for a pre-surgery exam and consultation.  Wish me luck.

In other more interesting and enjoyable news, it’s a stunning morning complete with sunshine, cool breezes, birds singing, young ducks bobbing in the water, and Tova & Chaya playing happily in the field.  There are gorgeous yellow water lilies in bloom at the water’s edge, reflecting in the water.  I love being here.

I’ve been behind on posting photos.  After my computer got hit with that malware/virus junk - I haven’t reinstalled Photoshop.  I need to do that soon.  I’ve got a lot to share with you. 

I’ll keep this short because I need to get Amira & I ready to leave for the ferry.  Not the most exciting update, but an update. 

Thank you everyone for your love and support!   Have a great day!

Oh, and there are EXCITING things happening with the FOFHC Initiative (like how I abbrievated that?).    It’s sprouting wings and will be bringing help and support to many more people.  I’ll share more details soon.

Okay - I’m out.  ♥

I have such a deep sense of gratitude knowing I have friends like Dana & Auguste who would so quickly jump to our side and stand with us through this.
I’m excited by the energy and possibility of what could come from this effort - beyond Paul & I.  In the two days that this initiative has existed, I’ve heard 5 stories of friends and (how appropriate) friends of friends dealing with chronic dental health concerns without access to adequate care.

I’m going to be blogging my experience with this - not because I want to be a poster child for dental woes or missing teeth… rather because I hope my story will point to the many, many others who are going through this too.  And instead of feeling fear and despair in my situation, I have opportunity to feel possibility and hope… for myself and others who are in similar circumstances.

Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else’s skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.

–Frederick Buechner

Click here to learn more about the Friend of a Friend Healthcare Initiative sponsored by Dana Roc Productions.

Last week was a very difficult week for Paul & I. We pulled together the resources to get into our dentist for comprehensive dental examinations. The news for Paul wasn’t good.  The news for me was horrible.

This week, our friends Dana & Auguste decided to do something.  I’m speechless:

From Dana:

Today I’m very happy to introduce my Friend Of A Friend Healthcare Initiative.

There are over 44 million Americans who are without healthcare. You know some of them. They are your coworkers, your friends, your family - maybe even you.

Today I’m coming to you on behalf of my own friends, Janece and Paul, who find themselves in the middle of a serious dental health crisis without the resources to pay for medical treatment.

We can’t immediately help everyone, but we can make a difference for their family, and maybe many others.

Click here to learn more about how you can help!

The world, under the microscope of your attention, opens up like a beautiful, strange flower and gives itself back to you in ways you could never imagine.

– Kate DiCamillo

The last two weeks have been hard. I’ve been depressed in a way that I can’t remember being since college. I can’t blame it on any one thing. It has been, with no particular rhyme or reason, Paul’s crazy long and exhausting (read: worry-making) work hours, our financial stresses, concern for providing the Amira everything she needs and deserves, grieving Freeni’s death, my health, the loss of my faith as I knew it and so on.  When I’m down, I’m a crappy friend.  I hide out and I don’t show up for even the basics of friendship and connection. And of course, knowing that I’m doing that makes me feel worse.

Mood cycles are incredibly self-referential, aren’t they?  Loop upon mood loops circling on themselves.  Happy tends to beget more happiness and feeling depressed tends to delve you further into more and deeper depression.  The trick is finding what works to cut the circuit ways on that particular path.  Hopping onto a new path can feel no less daunting than jumping off a cliff with no chute or safety net below.  Reality kicked in though when I realized I had already jumped off a cliff.  Spiraling down into depression is no less of a cliff dive than jumping off another cliff toward peace and happiness.  It’s a no win situation if you are avoiding a free fall.  But it’s a win-win, depending on how you choose to look at it.  Both jumps are free falls. Only one, though, allows for that adventurous joy-filled experience of the moment.  (Don’t know if that makes sense to you, it does to me.)  Anyway…

I don’t write when I’m on the spiraling downward loop-de-loop. And so the good news for me is that I am writing about this. It shows me that I’ve jumped onto the new path.  Hip-hip-hoorays all around. 

The sunshine is starting to break out here.  The trees are reflecting in the shimmering pond while the baby ducks practice their motorboating skills.  The swallows are darting and I can see the dogs wrestling and sprinting on the far side of the pond.  The red-winged blackbirds are balancing on the cattails and Amira sings while playing on the floor behind me.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

-ee cummings

For the first time in 13+ years, our home lacks for a feline presence. Two weeks ago, Sabu’s body finally gave way even though our sweet boy’s spirit never did. He was a smart, happy, vibrant spirit from the day we met him until the day he died. I haven’t written about his death until now because I couldn’t find the words. I want to tell you all about him - his soft silky fur, his soothing rumble when he purred, his warning system when you annoyed him, his incredibly smart and empathetic personality and everything else that made him so dear to us. But what I need to write about right now is his death.

On the day Freeni died, I had just put Amira down for her nap. I was tired too - so I decided that I would have Freeni nap with me on the couch. Freeni’s hind legs hadn’t worked for a little while, so I would pick him up and bring him out onto the deck with me to soak up the warm sunshine. Other times, I would hold him while we napped together. Sometimes he enjoyed laying on the floor in the living room, just to be more a part of the day-to-day life. Most of the time though, unless he was being held, he preferred the safety, quiet and solitude of the large closet we outfitted especially for him. When he lost his sight, large rooms, the noises of the dogs and Amira would make him nervous.

The night before he died, something subtly shifted in his condition and Paul & I could tell that it was time. Saddened but accepting, we agreed to make plans to take him into the vet over the weekend. The next day, when I picked him up, I could tell he was agitated. Something was bothering him… not so much pain as a sense of overall disorientation. I scooped him up and held him close as I walked to the couch. His muscles were stiff and he pushed as though he wanted to get away. I figured he was afraid. I curled up on the couch in such a way to give him the greatest sensation of safety and comfort. I pet him and spoke to him softly, promising him that he was in a safe place, that he was okay and that I loved him. After about fifteen minutes of this, he relaxed into my arms. He purred quietly and leaned his head into my hand as I pet him. He moved his body so that he could tuck his head into the nook of my neck. Happy he was feeling settled and at peace, I fell asleep with his warm body against me, his purr vibrating softly and his head tucked under mine.

I woke up an hour later and Freeni was snoring lightly. I pet him a few times and the snoring stopped. I lay there for about a half hour just being with him. Then Amira woke up from her nap. I moved slowly and gently to minimize any concern or fear Freeni might feel from moving. When he didn’t respond, I rightly suspected that he was close to dying. Looking back, I believe Freeni had slipped into a pre-death coma.

I didn’t want to put him down, so I didn’t. Ahmis came home and when she came up to visit… I whispered to her that Freeni was dying. She stayed with me.

With Ahmis by my side, Freeni died in my arms around 4:30pm.

There’s no over sentimentalizing death when you are there when it happens. It’s not graceful. Nothing about it feels right. Even so, Freeni’s death was as right as it could have been.  What makes me happy in the midst of my sadness and tears is to think of him whole and playing in the sunshine. His spirit was too big to be housed in a broken body. I’m so grateful he fell into his first sleep curled up with me. I’m thankful that he also fell into his final sleep with me. I miss him so much.

I have a few more pictures from this evening to share soon.  We spent the evening eating our dinner picnic style, swaying on swings, climbing ropes, putting our toes into warm sand and cold, cold water.

For those of you who continued to check in - thanks.  I’m grateful to be back after a long two week wrestle match with some nasty malware that appears to have overwrote critical system files.  When getting rid of the malware, I got rid of files needed to run my machine smoothly.  It all ended in having to back up my files, wipe the hard drive and start over.  I wish I done it a week and a half ago - but I kept thinking: ‘this time, this time I’ll fix it and it’ll all be up and running again’.  One of those live and learn moments, I suppose.

If you hear, ‘Look at you. You quit! You’ll never get this. Look how long you’ve been trying to be aware and you’re still a failure at it,” realize this is conditioned mind trying to control you - and recommit. If you play close attention, you are going to see how a process has been keeping you prisoner. You’re going to learn that when you’re present in the moment you don’t need to fear yourself, anyone or anything. A huge part of doing this work is getting to the point where it all falls apart.

We don’t need to get through the good times! We need to learn what to do when things don’t go well, when the voices get the better of us, when we feel like a failure and want to give up. What I hear over and over is that people start something they want to do, do whatever it is, feel great, stop (for reasons they rarely understand) and get the stuffin’ beat out of them by their conditioned voices for being a lose and a failure. It’s a cycle…

At a certain point we must without self-hatred, stand at the crossroads, hear the little voice that says “You can go in a new direction,” heed that voice and make a choice to end suffering.

Cheri Huber, Making a Change for Good

I need to write yet I rarely do.  Whether journaling my day or expounding on where my thoughts and heart travel, I fill my life with other tasks and priorities.

When I sat down to write this, I was about to go down a well-trodden lane in my life.  I wondered why I don’t just don’t write and was ready to reprimand myself both mentally and here on my blog.  Instead, before that could happen, this floated clearly into my mind and spoke not only out loud, but loud:  “You don’t want to let the cat out of the bag!“  Did I mention it was loud?

What cat is that? That cat would be me.

I’ve said various versions of this before.  But here it is.  I’m going to do it again. The cat. I’ve let her out. Again.  Because that’s what there is for me to do when a voice speaks out loud.

I’ve been on a journey that feels strange. I don’t know where I’m heading. And I certainly don’t know where I will end up. In fact, I think the idea of “ending up” somewhere, anywhere, has revealed itself to me as an illusion. I find it very difficult.

I read a portion of a book about one woman’s leaving the church because of its lack of recognition (at best) and complete suppression and oppression (at worst) of women. (This is another post altogether.) It, combined with so many other things, left me looking yet again at my relationship with Christianity. Maybe it’s the nature of how Christianity is taught and inculcated into us, or maybe (and I have to emphasize here, hopefully), hopefully something more true and pure, but I haven’t been able to simply slough off my connection and hope in God and Christ. Still, I’m more at odds with my faith than at peace with it.

Then today, I finally got around to reading an interview of Bart Ehrman on Salon.com. His book, “Jesus, Interrupted“, was published recently and it is causing a bit of a stir. He was raised Episcopalian and his 10th grade year asked Jesus into his heart. (Unrelated side note possibly interesting only to me: the summer of my 10th grade year was when I first asked Jesus into my life… a personal decision separate from my own Christian training and upbringing.) Bart Ehrman followed his passion to the Moody Bible Institute and that was where things began to unravel. Ultimately, he went from being a traditional, Bible-inerrancy believing Christian, to a more liberal, meta-myth Christian believer to where he is today. He’s agnostic. What was the straw that broke the camel’s back for him, and caused him to move his check marked theology box from God-believing to agnostic? Suffering. His words: “I finally got to a point where I just didn’t believe it anymore. I just didn’t believe that there’s a God who’s looking over this world and is in some sense active within it, who’s intervening to solve problems of suffering and is answering prayer. I just don’t believe that.”

I grew up with both a spoken and unspoken training and belief that God is somehow intervening and fixing our lives and our suffering. Today, I find myself in Ehrman’s camp. The world and my experience holds too many inconsistencies for me to believe that God intervenes in the ways I once conceived of. If the suffering isn’t fixed, the average Christian argument (and mine for so very long) is that God has “mysterious ways” that we can’t understand… and that there is a reason for the suffering we experience. But the assumption still lies in the view that we aren’t supposed to be suffering… unless we are to be brought out of it for God’s glory or there is a greater good (a mystical, spiritual weaving of purpose, or a burning of the dross in me for my own good) that God has designed but I don’t/can’t/won’t understand or know.

Paul & I talked a while back about the possibility that what makes God God is God’s inexhaustible and illimitable nature to be with, take in the world’s (and our) suffering. God’s ability to be with…

Since that conversation, I’ve been thinking that this God, that has eternal capacity to hold close and be with the evil, pain and suffering in this world… is, not a form or entity (and as such, may have outgrown for me the title and my prior definitions of “God”), but is instead Love. And in being with and holding suffering close… suffering is, by Love, transformed.

The experience of life is, for me anyway, turned on its head if I consider that suffering isn’t something to be done away with, but rather something to embrace. Not in a self-punishing, masichistic sense, but in a peace-giving, life-affirming and ultimately transformative sense. Honestly, I’m not sure how that looks yet.

Hardly a sensical or comprehensive theology or idealogy, embracing God not as some type of quasi-human deity like we think of the Greek gods or similar, but rather the essence and being of Love… That has created a new kindling in my heart and soul. Prayer has been a mess of an experience for me over the last several years. Recently, my prayers have turned into some form of this:

Love Eternal, Love Divine,
I give myself to you.

Love creative and transforming,
I give myself to your service.

Love sacrificing and suffering,
I humble and give myself to you.

Love forgiving, accepting and whole,
I give myself to you.

Love Eternal, Love Divine,
I surrender to you.

And praying these prayers, they are moving and challenging me. And most importantly to me, they are both reshaping me into someone that I want to be and on a journey that I do, most definitely, want to be on.