Grieving & Gratitude

Early last week my boss stopped by my desk and asked me if I had a minute and then said we should talk back in our department's area (neither here nor there, my desk is set apart from the rest of the department for reasons that aren't relevant to what I'm about to write - but I will say that I'm better off because I have a window and more workspace). I didn't think much of it because I'm at a point of transition professionally and the details about my new position are evolving so I quickly followed. When he stopped by the office of one of my coworkers, asked if she had a minute and then - when we were inside the walls of our department space - closed the door. I knew something was wrong. 

"I have some really bad news..." he started. 

Our organization is going through a period of transition as well. With the various laws and regulations that seem to be changing from week to week that's just the way it is in my world. My mind started racing and in a nanosecond a bazillion possibilities raced though my head: our department was being let go, maybe he was being let go, maybe he was being tapped to move from the entity to the system, was someone from our c-suite leaving or worse yet, fired? How was I going to tell my husband I was out of a job? It wasn't convenient but I just started a part-time position for giggles with my Trusted Running Store so maybe that could help me fill in the gaps?

We all focused our attention on him, holding our collective breaths waiting for his next words and when he spoke it was far more of a shock than anything I could have imagined. A beloved member of our team had suddenly passed away. Details were sketchy and few. His wife and family - twin girls and an older daughter - were okay and had been out of town.  But that's all we knew. 

Someone began to tear up. Most of us just stared blankly off into space. My heart felt heavy. Words escaped me. My boss, recognizing the blow, said if we were free to leave for the remainder of the day if we wanted or head to the main building where we could find other forms of support and be with our other colleagues. We all sat and talked between ourselves behind a closed door and within the safety of our department walls and then slowly began to try and resume what we were doing as best we could. 

For me, it was only a short time before I decided I needed to leave to be with my family. To see The Other Half, to collect The Oldest off the bus and then gather The Munchkin from Kiddo Care. It was one of those afternoons where all I wanted to do was hug and love on my children because I could. It was one of those days that I was reminded how much can change in the blink of an eye.

I could try to describe the person we lost, but there are no words that could fully tell you what kind of remarkable individual he was. He just had a presence about him - he was one of those people that when you were around him you just knew that he was a good person. And he always had a smile. Always. As I walked into our building yesterday for the first time since his passing I meandered down the hallway that I inevitably would pass him by. Usually I'd be a woman on a mission and lost in thought or staring at one of a million work related email messages that had popped through on my phone and suddenly there he'd be. Walking toward me, leaning over with That Smile and a "Hi Joy!".

I could try to describe the organization that I work for but no words could fully tell you what kind of remarkable organization it is. I'm from a generation that is continually seeking the next great thing so when I'm asked how long I've worked for the organization it's still surreal for me to say that I'll have been with them for NINE YEARS this coming August. I love the place I work for. I love the people I work with. I love that so many people met The Oldest when she was just barely 6 months old and now they're remarking at how much she has grown. I love that I hope, when she graduates high school, some of those same people will be there and I can walk in to their offices and hand them a graduation announcement.

So this loss hurts us a great deal. We're family. And like all family does in times of trouble, we've circled our wagons and are taking care of our own in the ways we are able, but it doesn't make the loss any less raw or fill the void that now exists. 

This morning, as I was grumbling and groaning to myself as I was trying to get my legs to cooperate on the treadmill. That's when the universe spoke to me by way of music. There is a beautiful rendition of Over The Rainbow/Simple Gifts that's done by a group called The Piano Guys and it shuffled its way into my playlist. 

'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be fair,
'Tis a gift to wake and breathe the morning air.
And each day we walk on the path that we choose,
'Tis a gift we pray we never shall lose.

I could no longer grumble and only be grateful for the fact that last night I was able to watch the Bruins win in 2OT, get 4.5 hours of sleep and somehow manage to wake up, stumble into the bathroom and go to the gym. I was so thankful for a husband that could meet me after my shift with my Trusted Running Store with a container of gas to fill up my tank so I could make it home on more than fumes. I reflected on the conversation I had with The Oldest as she rode home with me - watching the way the setting sun reflected the red and blonde highlights in her brown hair and being amazed at the girl she's become. And I thought back to the time I had with The Munchkin as we rocked in the glider in her room - her little finger tapping three times on my nose as she said the words, "I. Love. You." before she curled up in her well loved, yellow blanket and closed her eyes. 

And I cried. Right there in the gym. I cried. I hopped off the treadmill and wiped off my face with the towel and hung my head before looking up to the sky.
 
Tell people how much you care. Tell people how grateful you are for them. Make sure they know what they do well. Say I love you and mean it because you don't know if you'll ever get that change again. Smile. Smile at everyone because you can never know the impact of one, simple smile. Hug your children just because you can and let them eat fruit snacks and drink Sprite for breakfast every once in a while because really, those are the kinds of things that memories are made of and someday they'll look back at and laugh and smile and say, "Remember the time that mom let us have fruit snacks and Sprite for breakfast?"

And when you wake up in the morning feel what's beneath your feet, be amazed at the sunrise and be grateful that you've seen another day. Because it truly is a gift.

I wish for you peace, Jason. I hope somewhere, somehow, you know how very many - how. very. many - lives you have touched and how deeply you are and will be missed. 

"The Story of My Life"

Over the last month I've sworn up and down that I was going to cancel my Facebook account only to decide that I've got too much invested - too many photographs, too many random status updates, too many this or that - to actually follow through. 

Arrival to the United States in November 1976

Truth be told, there are also too many Korean adoptees. I've been a part of a group of Korean American Adoptees for some time but hadn't really become more participatory until the last couple of months. Why? I don't know. Just is what it is. But what I've found in that forum is a collective group of individuals that understand my struggles and in turn many times my darkest fears and deepest dreams. Despite the fact that we are spread across the globe - some younger, some older - we all share a common thread that binds us together.

I have only just recently started to understand the shapes and forms my identity problems have taken. To most who do not know me I present as a confident, self-assured, intelligent and outgoing individual. Outwardly I am able to say that am good at what I do professionally - the work that I've done has contributed to three years of national awards and I have worked hard to earn the respect and confidence of the leaders who depend on me and my skill set. 

Those who are closest to me however know that I battle low self-esteem.  I overachieve so I do not disappoint. I very carefully calculate my risk so as to not fail. I have difficulty feeling worthy or deserving. There is rarely a week that I am not fearful of losing my job. I am terrified of being left alone, especially in a large crowd where I do not know anyone. For the longest time I viewed my eyes - their unique almond shape and dark brown, almost black color - and my ethnicity as a liability. 

This became especially true in junior high school as friends began experimenting with makeup. The teen magazines don't tell you what to do if you do not have an epicanthal fold and trying to figure it out on my own meant that more times than not I looked like the Bride of Frankenstein rather than the fashionable teen pop star. Of course I was also lacking the blonde hair and blue eyes that society told me was what beauty looked like.


I have done my best to keep my insecurities in check around my daughters, especially The Oldest as she has grown from a toddler to a child who is blossoming into a girl. The last thing I want for them is to project my insecurities into the universe where they can be at best perceived by them, and at worst become a part of who they are. I never want them to look in the mirror and doubt who they are.

I still haven't figured it all out - but with the help of an excellent therapist and some good medication I'm starting to understand how, at the very least, the pieces of the puzzle might fit together. Small dashes of confidence are starting to add up and with that my view of the world has become a little more cheery and bright. As a very wise person once said to me, "It's amazing what happens once you start to like yourself."

Despite the fact that everyone - at least right now - in the Korean American Adoptee group are largely unknown to me personally, I take comfort in knowing that they exist in the vast expanse of cyberspace. In the absence of a biological connection to the place of my birth, aside from The Oldest and The Munchkin they are the closest thing to blood relation that I might ever have. I'm learning more about the food, the culture, the customs and yes - even about how to properly put on eye make up. And I relate to - no, I feel their hurt and their sadness because it has been mine as well.

My file photo, sent to my parents.

I was at the gym tonight putting in some dreaded 'mill miles because it was far too raw and cold outside to go for a run with The Munchkin (despite her asking if we could from the moment I picked her up from daycare). 3 miles done, I slowed my pace to a walk to allow my legs and muscles to cool down and as I did I was scrolling through my email messages and then Facebook on my phone. As I checked out the Korean American Adoptee page I was greeted by a collage, compiled of photos of us (well, not me because I missed this one). There are photos of arrival to the United States, as infants, or the first images sent from orphanages and adoption agencies to waiting families. I always smile when when I see the collage because it makes me feel less alone seeing so many pairs of eyes that are like mine, cheeks and cheekbones like mine, shiny black bowl-cut hair that frames a round face like mine staring back at me. So it seemed fitting that as I was looking at all the adoptees in the photo, Bon Jovi's "Story of My Life" came on to my iPod. 

I used to have that song on my run playlist when I was battling demons that were waging war inside my head. I sometimes would listen to it over and over again to remind myself that I could make it through 24 hours and at midnight I could say I had survived yet another day. Lately, it's been a reminder of where I've been and where I am now. But this afternoon as I listened to the lyrics it took on a new meaning. 

I know it isn't black and white
And it's anything but grey
I know that no I'm not alright, but I feel ok cos
Anything can, everything can happen
That's the story of my life

Many of those photos may look black and white or gray but if you look closer, they're hardly that. They are rich hues of the threads that make up the tapestry of our individual stories. They're the stories of our lives.

 

Time Transformation

This morning it was just The Oldest and me at home. The Other Half had left to bring The Munchkin down to Kiddo Care about 30 minutes earlier and we were sitting quietly at the table - her eating cheese toast and sipping on orange juice and me crunching away on my cereal drenched in coconut milk. 

The Oldest loves to read. She's got book upon book upon book and is starting to collect a number of digital books on her Nook too. I looked up from my phone where I had been engrossed in the morning news stories on NPR and looked her way.

And there she was. 3 years old, legs just barely dangling over the edge of the chair as she peered into her cereal bowl with a spoon trying to be a Big Girl. I blinked and that little girl was gone. I had to catch my breath and choke back tears. 

The Oldest glanced over at me and looked concerned. "What's wrong, Mommy?" she asked as she put her hand on mine. I scooted over to be closer, wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead. 

"Nothing at all, Peanut." I replied. "Just thinking about how much I love you." 

"Okay," she chirped before smiling and going back to her reading.

 

Where The Heart Is

They say home is where the heart is. I may have spent the last 10 years in the relative flat of Central Indiana and while I have come to accept it as my place of residence, I'm not sure it will ever be home.

And so it is that last week I found myself driving, across Indiana, through Ohio, skipping by Pennsylvania, traversing New York (there's a point on the New York State Throughway that every single time I reach every muscle in my body seems to relax a little more because the rolling landscape, views of the mountains in the distance, and the continuous green blanket of trees is what I know), over Vermont (literally over) and into New Hampshire.

The second half of my grade school years were spent in southwestern New Hampshire but I haven't been back for almost 6 years - or since my parents retired to the coast of Maine. It was strange to run in a town that's at the same time familiar and what I remember as a kid, but also different. The college has grown exponentially, big box stores and some national chain restaurants have moved in (this is a place that didn't have a Burger King until I was a senior in high school in the early 90's) so the town isn't as small as it once was but the main street is still lined with mom and pop establishments and maintains the small feel.

I had been sitting the better part of 18 hours in a large SUV and I was certain I wanted to run and stretch my legs - but I was also pretty sure that my body would protest the run. My HR shot up and never really evened out, and my legs felt heavy but as I wrote on Daily Mile, there's something to be said about running in a place where the heart and soul can exhale and relax. I ran through the downtown area and onto the campus of the local college - eventually making one large loop back to our hotel. My only regret for this run is that I didn't have more time as I would have liked to have spent an hour or two exploring by my own two feet.

After meeting my sister for lunch we packed up The Oldest and The Munchkin and continued east to where my parents are in Maine, and that's where I've been for the last few days. My time here is always far too short so I've been taking advantage of the rolling hills and the forested paths, or the ponds and ocean, while I can. The trails at home give me an opportunity to decompress but it's not the same. The scents. The sounds. The peace and calm. Me, the road, and nothing more but the sound of my breathing and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

The northeast is where, in my heart, I know I belong and it breaks a little to hear The Oldest remark about how beautiful the landscape is or how amazing the mountains are. I try to remain grateful that she is able to have the experiences that she has - that I am able to visit family that lives in one of the most beautiful areas of the country - but I wish that she could experience this every day. At the same time, I didn't truly understand what I had until I moved away and maybe these visits will help foster a greater sense of appreciation. I watch her with my parents - her grandparents - and try to commit special moments like her making cookies with her grammy or boogie boarding in the ocean with her poppa to memory. And I sit in the relatively bug-free enclosure of the screened in porch, take in a deep breath, and hope that I'll be able to take some of this serenity with me when I go.

To Plan or Not to Plan, That is The Question

June 18, 2012

Marathon plan called for Sunday off and 20-30 minutes cross training today. Usually on Monday's I both run and swim - and I did so during my half training without much trouble but I also know that a marathon is an entirely different beast. In the interest of being smart, at least for now, I cut out the run and stuck with the swim.

I'm still not entirely sure of how I'm going to proceed over the next few weeks while my running mileage remains lower than what I've been putting in. Before I decided to make the leap into 26.2 I spoke with Charlie at my trusted running store, Blue Mile and found that my average mileage of about 20 to 25 per week is my "base". I had spent some time building up to that over the course of my last half marathon, but continued to run longer every other weekend after in an attempt to keep up my fitness. Admittedly, after all the work that I've done to lose weight and get fit, there's also something intensely gratifying to know that I can call on my body to run 13.1 at any given point in time.

Charlie did advise that between my half and starting up marathon training it'd be okay to cut back on mileage some - part for the mental break of sticking to a training plan day in and day out, but also to give my body the opportunity to recoup and recover.  I still consider myself to be a novice runner, but what he was saying made sense to me so over the last couple of weeks I reduced my mileage pretty considerably (or what seemed to sot me).  Of course now... now I've got nervous twitches that somehow I'm not going to be able to build back up or that I'm going to struggle doing so. In my HEAD I know this is nonsense. The Type-A, overachiever in me debates that.

What I may do is throw in lower mileage, truly easy run one day a week (like Monday) and keep that up until my midweek mileage catches up. Of course, I think the best advice I got on Daily Mile came from Olu when he said:

I would follow the plan as closely as possible at least for the 1st one. There's nothing remotely intuitive of marathon training until you've done it before.

I'm realizing that everything I know how about running - fueling, hydration, recovery - is about to get shaken up, but that's okay.

So in keeping with my plan I stuck with cross training only and made my way to the gym where I spent close to 45 minutes in the cool, calm, waters of the lap pool. If there's one thing about swimming indoors during the summer it's that most people have made tracks to be outdoors, so there's less lane comedy or chaos. There's something amazing when it's only me - the water is smooth and my swim is more like gliding through the water than trying to power through it.

My choice of music changes when I'm swimming - I tend to favor Coldplay, Enya, maybe Enigma but by far what I listen to the most is Maroon 5. Thinking about Adam Levine waiting for me at the end of my lane doesn't hurt - but the music, particularly from the Hands All Over album, seems to be perfectly paced and sets just the right "mood" for me to find my Zen in the pool.

Being in the water is where I feel most at peace. Whenever I've found myself feeling particularly challenged, emotionally vulnerable or just having a difficult time in general I've turned to water - the shower, the tub, the pool, a lake, the rain, the snow. Water cleanses, rinses and renews. It flows along gentle and easy or churns and roars with power and might or freezes into crystalline beauty that floats from the heavens and covers the earth. Much like the road and the path have become an old friend that welcomes me back whenever I lace up my shoes - so too is the water, but it envelopes and surrounds and comforts.

Had hoped for 2000m but it wasn't in the cards but that's okay. Was more important to hop out, collect The Oldest from kid care and spend some time pool side with her. She's growing and changing every day - I want to capture memories and moments and time spent with her while I still can because I know that it's going to seem like only a nanosecond and she'll be all grown up with kids of her own.