tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098848277751301292024-03-05T18:53:22.384-08:00I am feeling kinda funnyVal Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-64503796218598950652023-10-29T10:47:00.001-07:002023-10-29T10:47:17.020-07:00The One Where We Lost Chandler <p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 23px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>The first guitar riff of the theme song is recognizable. From the first few notes, you know exactly what is to come. “So no one told you life was gonna be this way (clap, clap, clap). Anyone listening that song knows to clap along. We watch the credits roll as our favorite characters dance around a fountain that is supposedly in New York but really just a Hollywood backdrop. We don’t care. That’s not the point. For years most of Gen X and millennials alike fell in love with this cast of six beautifully talented people.<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 23px;"> </span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">For me, it wasn’t just a show. I was not in on the trend at first but by the second season, I too couldn’t understand why Ross and Rachel couldn’t just be together and I sang along with Phoebe to Smelly Cat. Oddly enough, what got me to start watching the show was my grandfather. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One day we were talking and he asked me about my best friend, Paula. I don’t remember exactly what we were discussing in reference to her. I mostly remember him saying that she looked like Lisa Kudrow. I was impressed. My grandfather was a fan. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He lived in New York most of his life and I’m sure the fact that the show was set in NYC brought back many memories for him. From then on, I started watching too. And every so often before he passed away, Phoebe would come up. And so that became one of the common threads for us along with the fact that I had become a hairdresser like him. In those moments I connected with him in a different way. He was not just my grandfather, he was a fellow fan of Friends. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Friends fans speak the same language. My friend Sonja and I often refer to one another as “Lobster”. When a Friends fan is with another one, we can throw out a quote that is pertinent to any conversation and get it without having to explain ourselves. Many of us can site the episode and sometimes even the episode title. We all know the Easter Eggs in each show and triumph when we know one that someone else doesn’t. Fun fact: I once looked up the books that the characters in the show were reading. I had this bright idea that I was going to read them. Now I may have to. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Even people that are not fans know the show. They know the song. They’ve seen at least one episode and they know who the actors are. And the theme song is beyond recognizable. It is iconic. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">When my friend messaged me the news, I did cry. I will never grieve in the way that his family and friends do, but the show is a comfort to me. I take every quiz on Facebook and I revel in the nuances that I now see because I have watched the show thousands of times. Losing Matthew/Chandler means I’ve lost a piece of comfort. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I stumbled across an article years ago about the show and anxiety. Friends was in the title so of course I had to read it. For most of my years on earth, I have suffered from some form of anxiety. Flight anxiety has been the most intense for me. The article talked about the show and how sitcoms are watched over and over because they comfort the anxious. We know that everything will be alright. No one in the show will be hurt and it will end with a laugh. I often watch the show when I am in flight and we turn it on to go to sleep. If I wake up for some reason in the middle of the night and I can’t get back to sleep, Friends will comfort me right back into my pillow. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">And then there is the connection to my grandfather. He is eve present with each episode. I don’t even think about it anymore. Papa is just there with me. At some point in any episode, his image comes into my brain and I connect with him. It’s not even conscious for me. It just is. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I never met or got to know Matthew Perry. The only way I ever will now is watch his movies, read his memoir again, and watch Friends. I feel the loss of him. He has been part of my life almost every day in the last 20 plus years and I didn’t even have a cup of coffee with him at Central Perk. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">When the Friends Experience made its way to Dallas we went. It was a lovely reprieve in the middle of a long and sad pandemic. Sitting in a chair like the ones Joey and Chandler had on the show brought me right back to the episode when they first got the recliner chairs. We sat in Monica’s kitchen and looked out the window at Ugly Naked Guy. I wanted to buy every Knick-knack I could from the gift shop. When we tired to “Pivot!!!”, I felt more connected to the show. I felt more connected to them.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Friends has been more than a show to me. It’s a feeling. It’s as much a part of me as my grandfather on the phone asking about Paula. I will still laugh every time Chandler hits his own head with the filing cabinet and Ross yells, “Pivot!! Pivot!!” I will rejoice when Monica and Chandler get engaged and giggle when Joey tries to speak French. When Phoebe sings, I will laugh, listen, and cringe at the same time. And I aspire to be as clean and organized as Monica. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The loss of a Friend feels intense. The state of the world is uneasy. There are wars, hunger, and pain on the news everyday. Our elected officials would rather be in a pissing contest with one another instead of doing the work for the people. And maybe this is why I feel the loss as if I knew him. A small piece of comfort left this unstable world. I will miss Matthew Perry even though I never knew him. But in so many ways, he will always be my Friend too. RIP</span><span class="s3">❤️</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s3"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFPbs1PHZvla2I_5FbXXauqFl9Juufeow1mbRXlkZeqwnuq2SN9MttFT1zNegJXiSf9uZ8NA199FJ-iW4-UEV4zdmERDgmR7MhHsUNgPn63wZGIKxbtiRaENjTh6qh5ETZcxbLCP2gT12HwNR71DINW7m0tkNdNjH-c3FLmAgp5Wm5wKy7LVd5rErvYUNg/s720/Image-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFPbs1PHZvla2I_5FbXXauqFl9Juufeow1mbRXlkZeqwnuq2SN9MttFT1zNegJXiSf9uZ8NA199FJ-iW4-UEV4zdmERDgmR7MhHsUNgPn63wZGIKxbtiRaENjTh6qh5ETZcxbLCP2gT12HwNR71DINW7m0tkNdNjH-c3FLmAgp5Wm5wKy7LVd5rErvYUNg/s320/Image-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span class="s3"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 29px;"><br /></p>Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-12395839676540512122023-01-19T05:25:00.002-08:002023-01-19T05:25:30.346-08:00<p>As the new year moves on this month, the days begin to run together as they always have in the past. The holidays slow us down for a brief moment and then we make resolutions. We are excited to basque in the glory days of the new year. And then, bam, here we are in the third week and it's business as usual. I am, however, trying to fight that one. I'm very much living in this moment (as if we have a choice). What I mean is that I am doing my best not to look too far ahead like I usually do. I try to anticipate the future. I make the prediction, "This is my year!" Unfortunately the last few years have taught me that it doesn't matter if it's my year, the world may have other plans. </p><p>At first this idea troubled me. Actually, it pissed me off. How am I supposed to move forward and make my place in this world when there is pandemic, climate, change, and political unrest? Oh! and some dumb fuck keeps threatening to nuke the world? The world is fucking dumpster fire. </p><p>That's just it isn't it? There is nothing I can do to control the powers that be so I am forced to revel in the joy of this moment. I may not be able to look as forward as I would like. I am cautiously optimistic for what lies ahead in my life and my career. What I can do is indeed look back at what I have accomplished. </p><p>This last year, I grew in more ways than I ever thought I would. For the first time, I was an employer. That alone is a feet in itself. The salon did well. I made a web series and filmed 8 episodes of the 10 I had set to make. That's pretty damn good. I taught some classes and made strides in a social media following which is helping my business. And more than ever this last year, I was inspired by women who are fighting for their lives and spitting in the face-off cancer. I am watching single moms kick ass. And I am allowing the mentors in my life to mentor me. </p><p>One thing I have not fully learned, because I am a fighter, is to keep my mouth shut. When I see injustice or misinformation, I am inflamed. When I see people I thought I loved not line up with. my value system, I get angry. I want point out with all the logic in the word about why they are wrong. There is a better way. But alas, it fall on deaf ears. Or in the case of social media, deaf keyboards? I don't know. What I do know is that I can't change the world. I can change me. So, that's what I'm doing one day at a time. I'm choosing kindness over hate. I am leading with compassion instead of, "God you're a moron. How are you alive in the world?" It's hard and some days I fail. But instead of making a comment or posting my usual passive/aggressive opinion, I instead show what I'm doing to change my world. Or at least the world around me. I'm not going to lie. I do at least comment out loud, "Wow aren't you a big piece of shit!" and then I scroll on. </p><p>The great Alanis Morissette has said. "The only way out is through." Here I am going through one day at a time and doing my best to be grateful...with lots of opinions that I am stuffing down. Carry on. Carry on. </p>Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-69101657860047815032023-01-12T06:40:00.001-08:002023-01-12T06:40:08.021-08:00Happy New Year??<p>As the year opens up to us, we think about the endless possibility of how our lives could change. When the ball drops, we resolve to do better this time. "This is my year!" we tell ourselves. "I"m going to get in shape, read more, and find the best career for me." These are just a few examples of what we profess. Our New Year's Resolutions are in full force. Somehow that last shot of tequila will cleanse the old and bring in the new. Or it will make us pass out. Either way something happens. </p><p>I have been guilty of this myself. I make resolutions. I make plans that I just know will work out this time because I got a new planner that will help me map out my goals. The vision board has me doing the things to manifest man! It's all a joke right? Maybe. But, I still resolve to do better every new year. There is something magical about the reset right? I mean we all feel it. </p><p>Fo this year, I have added a few things, including trying to make this blog a priority. But overall, I resolve to do better through out the year. The last few years have rocked us all to the core and we are reminded that we have no control and that life can indeed turn on a dime for us personally and for the whole world. My resolution this time around is to do what I can to grow a little personally and artistically each day. I need to be in this moment because there's only this moment. I also need to get may nails done. I digress. </p><p>These are the things that enter my mind. I have no magic wand. The ball drops and does not emit magical powers over all of us. And because of time zones, the New Year trickles in and not all at once. That's life isn't it? It trickles in and not all at once. Each moment passes until the day is done and we are safe in our beds by the day's end. </p><p>The nice thing is that we are all a work in progress. I try to remind myself of that so it takes the pressure off. Believe it or not, that worked for me in 2022. After a battle with long covid that I feel I have overcome for the time being, I vowed to do as much as I could when the ball dropped this time last year. I didn't set unrealistic expectations and it worked. Here is a list of things I accomplished, planned and unplanned:</p><p>1. I filmed eight episodes of my very own web series, five are up on you tube, and three are in edit mode. My goal was to film 10. I got 80% there. That's pretty good. </p><p>2. I have been taking voice lessons for the last year and a half. I vowed to practice more. I practiced 50% more than I did when I started. The goal was to make my lungs better from having covid. I achieved that. </p><p>3. I have been reading more. </p><p>4. I managed to walk most every day and do yoga almost every day. My goal was every day and I hit it 70% of the time. </p><p>5. I wanted to grow my salon business. I had a few setbacks but it did grow and I almost made my goal for how much I wanted the salon to gross in revenue. I'm not there but I got close enough that I feel good about it. </p><p>So, what are my goals this year? Keep doing what I'm doing and continue to create new habits. I'm following some of the things I learned from listening/reading Atomic Habits. Is it really reading if it's an audio book? The experts will have to weigh in at some point but I did take in valuable information. One of the key components in that book is to add a small habit to something that you already do. Example: I practice my scales and warm ups in the morning while I am getting ready for work. Then I sing a couple of songs. This morning, the singing brought me joy. The idea is that these things become habits because you incorporate it into your daily routine.</p><p>Speaking of routine. I have not chastised myself if I pick my phone up and look at it when I wake. However, I put it right back down. I stretch, drink water, and get my morning clothes on. I wake up in the same time frame. I have stopped pressing myself to wake up at exactly 5:30 or whatever those other blog posts say. Because it's my goal to just get up as early as my body wants, I am waking up around the right time every day. I have a task list that I must do and the tasks are done most of the time. </p><p>It's helpful to give yourself grace and revel in what you are accomplishing already. For example, I have written every morning and I have this second post of 2023. I'm not concerned with whether or not they get read. I am more concerned about the journey for a change. Of course I want an outcome but I finally get the whole, "It's about the journey, not the destination," jargon. I intend to finish projects and put them into the world but I have resolved that it's more important to enjoy each triumph as they come my way. As the girl I saw on TikTok say, "Tell yourself how things are already going your way. Train your brain." Or something like that. Happy New Year. </p>Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-81473969592101385642023-01-06T07:01:00.000-08:002023-01-06T07:01:59.451-08:00Let's Try This Again<p> OK here we go 2023. Let's see if I can keep up with this. To be clear, this is not about the typical resolutions that people do each new year. My creative commitment to myself has been ongoing and this blog is part of that. I have had a long journey as the rest of us have had the last few years thanks to a pandemic that we are still in. While some things have gotten better, the looming days of a divided world and the prospect of a healthcare collapse still whisper to us. The few mask wearers and recluse hold outs are a reminder that this thing is not over even if we pretend it is. It's going to stay with us. And while the remnants and memories of what I have experienced may find its way into this series I am starting, the focus will not be on the pandemic. </p><p>So what am I trying to say? What is my focus? What is this commitment that I speak of to whom ever reads this and to myself? I have found over the last few years that I have much to say. I have over 30 years of journals and stories to prove that. I have 46 years on this planet that's full of happiness, sorrows, and everything in between. Sharing thoughts and stories have always been my go to. I wouldn't say that I have had an extraordinary life but I have had some extraordinary experiences. I would argue that most of us have. The difference between mine and others is that I am willing to share a lot of what I have experienced in the hopes that maybe it helps someone. Also, my brain needs to dump. I am also not afraid to admit that I have enough of an ego to share and believe that people will be interested. </p><p>I've been going about this journey in many ways and for most of my life. My first dream was to be an actress. I did plays. I performed for anyone who would watch. Then I wanted to be a pop star. I've always wanted to be a writer. Hence the journal keeping for over 30 years. Mom introduced me to the diary when I was 11. We had watched The Diary of Anne Frank. I must have expressed sone kind of interest in the fact that Anne, a girl not much older than myself, had kept a diary and the whole world read it years after her death. She was just a young girl with dreams in a world that didn't want her to exist. Even though she no longer lives, she will forever exist as long as those pages continue to stay in print. I'm not sure I thought deeply about it then. Mom just knew that I was a creative and she did seek to nurture that in me. </p><p>When I was in the 7th grade, Ms. Slotemaker was my reading teacher. She too noticed that I loved the craft of writing. Because of her I went to a writer's workshop for kids two summers in a row. She would often tell me that I would end up on tv. And I have. I already had by the time I met her. My siblings and I were in a commercial for the local news stations. I had already been a model for a department store. She knew it would be on a bigger scale And it has. I wish it was more. It's exciting to see yourself on a major network. I'm not going to lie about that. </p><p>The nurturing worked. I write. I have published a book. I've written short films. I've produced them. I've produced plays. I have been on tv and done a few commercials. I currently have a web series on You Tube based on a one-woman show that I hope to perform live this year, I have managed to do quite a bit even though I have a full time job. I want to do more. This series is a part of that. I have another book idea in mind but it's been hard to organize. My commitment to you dear reader, if you are indeed reading, is to share some of my insights from my journals and from the multiple essays I have fleshed out on paper or on this computer. It's going to be challenging. It always is right? It's tough to sit in a room and commit to baring your soul and hope there is more. It's a time commitment as most things are. Of course my husband has always encouraged my creativity. He has not always understood the ways it needs to manifest itself. However, he has watched me write and journal for the last 25 years and he knows it's crucial for my survival. He has pushed me into Mom's old bedroom and made a pace for me. My own office. That's another blog in itself. In the meantime, here's to baring my soul. </p>Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-61098495881307561892020-05-06T12:41:00.000-07:002020-05-06T12:41:10.524-07:00And here we goSo it looks like the world is opening up. I'm not going to lie. I have so many feelings about what is happening that I don't even know where to begin. I am scared. I keep reading news reports and conflicting information. Everything from "COVID-19 was create in a lab", to "Wear a mask, it's safer", and then "No, don't wear a mask, you'll give yourself the virus!" What the fuck? Then I remember reading books like 1984, The Handmade's Tale, and the Hunger Games Series. Then I go down the rabbit hole and it just becomes a cycle of paranoia, hopelessness and fear.<br />
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After I mull though all of that, I try to put my happy face on. It could be worse. I'm still healthy. I need to continue to be a positive force in the world. I have things to create and stuff to do. I'm growing a business. I think that it's going to be ok.<br />
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The truth is I really don't know. I go back to work next week. I will re-open my doors to the unknown. I don't know what normal looks like and I have no idea what to expect. I am concerned for my safety and the safety of others. But I also think that if I worry too much I'll die of a stroke first. All I can do is my best and hope that powers above me find their humanity. If we are indeed a giant experiment there is nothing I can do to stop that. I hope that we all show up at the polls this November.<br />
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In the meantime, I am going to disconnect from social media as much as I can. I will have to utilize it for my business so it's going to be tricky. I'll have to turn the news off and delete news apps from my devices. Basically I have to live in my bubble and do all of the good I can in the world. I don't have faith in this system. I do think this person that we call the president is terrible. I think most of the politicians are terrible. But I can't help that. What I can do is help me. I planted a garden. I have been exercising outside. I've been enjoying the sun and I have been writing. I will contact my salon guests and begin the arduous task of rescheduling whomever I can. I will listen to music and I will sing as I hope that one day we will do better.<br />
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So let's do what we can to be kind to one another. I will do my best not to judge even though it's easy to do. I will do what I can to love and I will live in this life journey one day at a time because it's all I can do. <br />
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Peace and love,<br />
ValerieVal Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-61184760200619820592020-04-15T13:10:00.001-07:002020-04-15T13:10:42.351-07:00The New Normal?So I'm feeling better since my last post. I've taken extra measures to try and talk myself off of the ledge. For starters, I am not really looking at social media. If I post, I do it through Instagram. Right now most of my posts are of my three year old nephew, Stone. There's something hopeful about children so instead of being political and angry, I am posting a kid being a kid.<br />
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I don't know when I'll be able to go back to work and that's scary. Of course I have applied for so many things in hopes that I receive a little aid but how long that lasts if I get it is anyone's guess. I am disappointed in the way that our leaders are handling this and it's bazaar to me that news briefings have turned into their own form of campaigning. But we are in the new normal then aren't we? I get angry and I feel minuscule. My small life has no bearing and I have been reminded of how insignificant we all are. I have to let that go because it's something I can't control. In fact, this is a solid reminder that I have no control over lots of things.<br />
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What has been uplifting is the amount of humanity that is stepping in where our world leaders haven't. so many companies are doing what they can to help small business and to help people in general. Manufacturers are making ventilators and gloves and masks. People that can are donating money to organizations to help those less fortunate. Humans all over are reacting and reaching out to one another. Suddenly, most of us are on the same page.<br />
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What has been really weird is that my days are all blurring together. This really is like Ground Hogs Day. This is what my dogs' lives must be like. Eat, sleep, poop. We're all just spinning through space on this floating rock we call Earth and hoping we can hang on. It looks like Mother Nature is really mad at us and she's keeping us grounded until we learn our lesson. It's hard to say if we will. We are creatures of habit.<br />
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I wish I could say that I will see everyone soon.<br />
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<br />Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-6414697671024974172020-04-05T13:33:00.000-07:002020-04-05T13:33:01.727-07:00Holy Sh$$t! COVID-19<br />
A lot has happened since we last spoke. I've been doing the "busy" thing like everyone else in the world until now. Now we are all at home and waiting out one one the freakiest and unsettling thing since 9/11. I am going to say a lot of things that many of us can relate to. I will also preface that this is from my perspective. If you read this and plan to make a disparaging comment then you are just an asshole. We all need words of encouragement right now.<br />
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In the years leading up to this moment I had been going to a lot of therapy. It turns out that after my Mom had passed away I was suffering from PTSD. When I think of what that is I mostly think about soldiers who went to war and came back with mental trauma after seeing more destruction and violence than any one person should. There are loads of stories of men returning from war who are no longer the same. It never occurred to me that a lay person such as myself would endure PTSD of any kind. I had adversity as child and learned to cope with that but when Mom died I began to experience crippling moments, moments that left me sitting in my driveway waiting for my husband to come home because I physically could not enter into our home anymore. I got nervous if I sat in the living room by myself. I didn't want to be home by myself. I carried around feelings of angst and I didn't like to eat because my stomach was in knots. Sirens from an ambulance made me cry and I drank every night just to try and numb any feeling whatsoever. It was truly a dark time in my life.<br />
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I got better. I learned what my triggers were. The last flight I took was pleasant and I didn't have a panic attack at all for the first time in years. I felt brave. I had just opened a salon and lost my Dad in the same time frame but with the tools from my therapist, I was able to cope and I began to grow a business. In fact, one of the last conversations I had with my Dad he told me he was proud that I was so successful. His exact words were, "You are a true success." While I faced many challenges, I had the tools to face the adversity as it came.<br />
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Of course my false sense of security was knocked right out from under me, as it was for all of us, just a few weeks ago. I myself dismissed this pandemic at first. I mean, why would we freak out? This is like the flu and we don't freak out about the flu. Then I was humbled by a salon guest who explained to me the dangers of an unknown virus and this virus in particular. Then that afternoon, the President declared a national emergency. And now, weeks later, my salon is closed. I have filed for unemployment, grants, loans, and sought out jobs I could do online. Suddenly I am without an in income. I am now hoping against all hope for a miracle and that I will get to re-open my doors on May 1. I am not holding my breath.<br />
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As the days have progressed during this short time, the triggers that I faced when Mom passed away are resurfacing. I have had sleepless nights. I dream of planes crashing and the world ending. I cry a lot. I try to be an optimist but I am failing. PTSD is strong and it sneaks in faster than a bullet. Every day is a challenge. I try to keep a routine. I walk my dogs. I've been cleaning my house and calling my salon guests, I have also been reaching out to friends giving and receiving words of comfort. We're all in this together and that does not make me feel better. I wish it did.<br />
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To be clear, I am confused about God and faith. I have been for a while. I am trying to pray and remain open but it's hard and it doesn't make sense to me at all. If anything, sometimes being ministered to by a friend with the best if intentions leaves me with more fear and more tears. Maybe it will help. But right now it only reminds of what people said to me when both my parents died. "They're in a better place now," they all said. I'm going to admit something. All that did was piss me off at the time. I know that they meant well but in those moments, I missed each parent when they left this world. I didn't give a shit about those condolences. All I knew at the time was that they were gone and they weren't here with me. So I have been reticent to embrace God right now. And someone forcing me to when my mental state is very similar to what it was in the recent past is not helpful. In my perception, it simply negates the fear and anxiety that I am feeling. I don't want to be placated. I am grieving the life that was and I am very much in the anger and despair phase.<br />
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I want everyone who reads this to understand that I am not wallowing in self pity. I am doing what I can to keep myself busy. But what I've been mostly doing is trying to prepare and deal with each day as it comes. I don't want to be prayed with right now. If you wish to pray for me that's fine but please understand that mental health challenges are real and by telling someone in a state like mine that God has a plan does not always help. It may help later and maybe I will be open to it. But right now, I am freaking the fuck out and that's o.k. I don't have faith in our world leaders. I see them playing with our health and our lives while they continue to fatten their wallets. I am jaded and I am cynical. I have no idea how this too shall pass. I am literally taking it moment by moment.<br />
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It is my hope that this will get better. That we get through it and humanity is kinder and less divided. But right now I am guilty as well of being a part of the divide. I will work on that but for today I will live in the moment. I will do the best I can to use the tools given to me in therapy. Maybe I will feel better tomorrow. In any case, I wanted to share my thoughts those of us that are experiencing the same set of fears and doubt.<br />
<br />Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-24890193106490899362017-11-10T20:10:00.000-08:002017-11-10T20:10:00.299-08:00Every Day Every day is a struggle. As I approach the second year of mom’s passing, I have to find the strength to move forward. Some days I’m hopeful and other days I’m angry or sad. My mood shifts quickly and I feel out of control for a brief second. Letting go of some things is harder than I anticipated and I get attached to objects that aren’t Mom. I finally understand how and why people collect trinkets and items that we would perceive as junk. With every item that one attaches themselves to there is a memory that belongs to it. That memory lives within the trinkets and every time it is looked at or touched the journey brings you back. It’s hard to let go when there is a small piece of Mom still left here to haunt me.<br />
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Things make me cry more than they used to. I’m more sensitive and raw than I used to be. Maybe it’s because I can still feel her even though she’s no longer here. When I look into her bedroom she’s sitting on her bed watching television completely immersed in whatever it is that’s on the screen. When I drive down certain roads, I reach over and remember what it was like to have her in the passenger seat. I miss her with every fiber of my being and hurts from the core of my being.<br />
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I’m told that it will get better. In some ways it has. I shed a tear but its not for long and then I move forward with my day. Grief therapy has helped me to cope with day to day life. It’s giving me tools to deal with it but sometimes I feel more lost than ever. I look back and remember how much she missed her mother and I hope that they’re together.<br />
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In spite of it all I will continue to smile. I will let go of the things and I will live life in this moment because it’s what she would have wanted. It’s what I want. I love you Mom.<br />
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<br />Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-80079153487708491972017-10-03T19:32:00.000-07:002017-10-03T19:32:02.570-07:00HometownMany people see Las Vegas as a place of glitz and glamour. It's the city of dreams. You could walk into a casino and play the right hand or hit the right jackpot and become rich. The showgirls are beautiful and the entertainment is top notch. What happens there stays there and it's usually a lot of fun. <div>
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For me growing up there was a whole different perspective. I went to school every day. I walked home most of the time. As a teenager I worked in the Forum Shops at Ceasar's Palace slinging candy. It was home. We did the every day stuff that everyone does only there were slot machines and fancy casinos. Mom was a teacher and my dad worked construction. My childhood really wasn't much different and I felt safe there. </div>
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Yesterday I awoke to a tragedy that I'm still trying to wrap my head around. The headlines keep reading, "59 dead and over 500 injured." It's a scene that I watched over and over and I can hear the gunshots as if I was there. My heart breaks when I think about this tragedy and I admit that I felt comfort when I learned that all of my family and friends were safe. I know that others weren't so lucky. I know that many thought they were going to a concert. They were going to have fun and make memories and instead a memory no one hopes to have was forced upon them. </div>
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I suppose I could pray. I'm not sure what good that would do. What's done is done and now we as a community have to clean up. In the last several months we've seen so much tragedy. We have watched countless communities ravaged by shootings, hurricanes, fires, and earthquakes. I'm not a person of huge faith so the only thing I know to do is send love and try to be a positive force in my life and in my work. I've lost complete faith in the leaders of this country but I haven't lost faith in my fellow man. The bright shining moment through all of this tragedy is that we have once again pulled together. </div>
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I wish I could hug my family now but they're too far. I hope against hope that we figure out how to move forward and learn from this. I wish I had words of wisdom on this blog but I don't. All I have is love and I hope...</div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-23652822608755180972017-08-08T08:41:00.000-07:002017-08-08T08:42:06.476-07:00To Be Humbled and Grateful...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As a stylist, you try to connect with each client. There are some that no matter how much you try, you just never get on the same page. Then there are others that you wonder if you somehow bonded in another life. One of those people for me is Hannah. She came into the salon with all her fire and awesome curly hair. I was humbled when she told how far she drove just to see me ( all the way from Brenham). It always humbles me that someone would drive down the street to see me, let alone miles and miles.<br />
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Every time I saw that she was on my books, I was always excited. We both had so much to talk about. She is a real estate agent kicking butt and taking listings. She also listened to my sadness and my journey of grief from the loss of my mother this past year. She allowed me to be the professional I needed to be and the ear that I sometimes need even though my job is to listen. She's one of those witty and smart people that you can't help but love. When she came into the new salon space ( Sweet 101 Salon ) she was so excited for me and she loved that I had a partner in crime, Lyndsey, with me. I'm telling you, I love this chic. She truly is one of those people that smiles and you smile with her because you have to. It radiates from her soul.<br />
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Not long after the last appointment I had with her, she posted on Facebook that she was diagnosed with breast cancer. My heart broke. I have known people in my life who battled cancer and won but this one hit home for me. Maybe it's because we're not that far apart in age but mostly because she and I resonated from the beginning of our client/stylist relationship. When she learned that she would not only have to undergo a double mastectomy but also chemotherapy, she messaged me. Hannah wanted to donate her hair and she wanted me to cut it. </div>
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I had to cry before I could even respond to her. I had not only grown to love and respect this woman, but the hairdresser in me was proud of our hair journey. But the tears came from a more visceral place. Being a hairstylist is very personal for me. Every two hours I make someone feel good. Or at least that's the end goal. Now Hannah was asking me to cut off all of her hair so that someone else could love her hair as much as she and I did. Not only was I asked to do that but she allowed Lyndsey and me to a part of their family for a day. In solidarity, her sisters Abby, Laura, and her husband Charlie, had all decided to go under the shear.<br />
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So this past Sunday afternoon, we decided to make it a party. Lyndsey and I put together a gift basket and my sweet husband, Cliff, helped us put together a small spread of snacks and sparkly drinks. We had decided that we were celebrating life. This negative thing was going to be turned into a positive thing. They were all doing the chop together. There were tears and laughter through out the day. I thought of that moment in Steel Magnolias when Truvy says, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." That was exactly what we had. </div>
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I was reminded of what it is I love about this job. There are days when I'm tired of standing and I couldn't care less about another person's want or need and then something like this knocks me back down to earth. I am blessed to be where I'm at. I'm also honored that someone thought so much of me and my friend Lyndsey, that we were invited to be a part of this amazing family for one afternoon. I'm humbled and grateful. I'm forever changed. </div>
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"Just like moons and like suns, with the certainty of tides, just like hopes springing high, still I rise..."-Maya Angelou. </div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-52140888520698850562017-05-14T19:53:00.001-07:002017-05-14T19:53:45.836-07:00Since we last spoke....Happy Mother's DayIt's been quite some time since I've written. The last few months have been full of schedules, time passing, and more days of grief. I couldn't bring myself to commemorate the anniversary of Mom's passing with a blog. It just didn't seem right and then suddenly it's real. So here we are, a year and some months later and it's Mother's Day.<br />
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I wasn't sure about this Mother's Day. Through grief therapy I'm learning that I'm in the acceptance phase of grief. This basically means that it's hitting home. As I have come out of the initial fog of the first year of losing Mom, the reality is setting in. Truly setting in. The second year is the reminder that it's for real. I've heard everyone say that you have to get through all of the firsts that losing a loved one entails. For me it appears to be the seconds; the second year begins, my second birthday without her, and the second Mother's Day. It's the one where I'm sober and not inbibing in a bottle of wine to masque the sorrow.<br />
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But I didn't wallow today. Instead, I spent Mother's Day celebrating with friends at a lovely brunch. Then Cliff and I rounded out the day by attending the wedding of two people that we have come to know and love over the years. They finally made it legal today. In between events I talked and text with family in the effort of spreading love and joy. I honored Mom by doing what she taught me to do; love. I unconditionally loved today. I would like to think that somewhere Mom is watching and smiling because I did what she taught me to do.<br />
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I miss her so much it makes my whole body ache. Some days, there aren't even tears, just fatigue and an empty heart. I see friends who still have their moms and I feel a little envy. Then I hope they know how precious their time is with their mom. Still, I trudge on and I live every day for me and for her. I do what I can to carry on her legacy and the legacy of moms everywhere. She is ever present and always with me.<br />
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Happy Mother's Day Mom. Stay in the light where you belong.<br />
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<br />Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-3844881257081898512016-12-25T20:41:00.000-08:002016-12-25T20:41:47.655-08:00Merry Christmas...A Letter to MomDear Mom,<br />
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This our first holiday season without one another. Even when we didn't live in the same city, we still called one another and talked for hours. So much has changed since you were here last Christmas. Jodie is having a baby, I'm producing a couple of short films, and we put a real tree up for Christmas this year. Benny is doing his usual stuff; laying on the couch and climbing into our bed in the morning.<br />
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This morning when the house finally stirred, I was reminded how much I missed you waking up and groaning your way into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. I swear you made a noise with every step. It's funny the things you miss when someone is gone. Sometimes I try to imagine that you're still sitting in your room watching the craft channel.<br />
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I miss you more than I ever thought possible. Some days it's an ache. Other days it's a wave of emotions. Today for example, I had to take a few moments here and there. I tried not to wallow in the fact that you're not here. I know you wouldn't have wanted it that way. I'm really trying to move forward and make you proud. I'm working on my second book and I'm producing two short films. One is about you and your creativity as a single mom.<br />
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I have learned so much from this past year. It's been tough. One thing I know for sure, I would still move you here in spite of what I know now. I'm so grateful that we got to have Christmas together the last few years. I'm lucky that I was able to have you be a part of my every day life. I'll be o.k. Thank you for being in my life the way you have.<br />
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We all miss you and we love you. Merry Christmas where ever you are,<br />
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Love,<br />
<br />
Valerie<br />
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-46794196138191928422016-09-18T07:28:00.001-07:002016-09-18T07:28:36.159-07:00Jones BeachThe sun was just beginning to rise on the east coast horizon. Like a shy child it peeked out from behind the clouds. Soft amber glow reflected on the water as it gently crashed upon the shoreline. Fisherman were doing their best to get the first catch of the day as chubby birds stalked the beach for any sign of leftover food from the previous day's beachcombers. The wind blew from all directions to clear the air and keep it fresh and cool. In this moment there was peace.<br />
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I had never experienced so many emotions come together as they had this weekend and this morning. My heart twisted in and out of itself. We were here fulfilling our mother's last request. We all knew that she wanted to be a part of the beach. She wanted to be free. It felt so odd to already be here in this place, carrying out her last request. About a month before she died we talked about her wish to be taken to Jones Beach.<br />
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"Are you sure that's what you want?" I asked her.<br />
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"Yes, I want my ashes scattered there," she answered.<br />
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We were sitting in her bedroom next to one another on her bed. The soft glow of the television lit her face up. I could see the certainty in her eyes when she answered me. She was so tired and her body hurt for many years. This was the last discussion we would have and I think we both understood that.<br />
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"It may take us a few months because we all need to get there," I said. "Is that O.K.?"<br />
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She nodded her head and told me that was fine. She just wanted to go home.<br />
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For reasons I won't get into, only three of us made it to the beach. My baby sister, Jodie, had a hard time letting go. We all understood and carried her with us in spirit. Even though she wasn't physically there, her heart was with us and at the end of the day, we were a complete family. In total, there were ten of us on that beach; siblings, spouses, and grandchildren all gathered between the fisherman and the birds. The last time we were here together was so long ago that I only remember it in snapshots. My brother was three, I was just over a year old, and Mom was pregnant with my sisters. We had come full circle.<br />
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My husband, Cliff, found biodegradable urns and carried out the task of making sure that we each had a piece of Mom to carry to the ocean. The Lord's prayer was said in unison and with love. My sister Jannie and I held hands and walked together into the water with Mom and flowers in hand. The waves crashed up to our waists drenching everything. The water embraced us with a fluid hug. When the next wave came, we gave Mom to the water. Then my brother, Mitch, followed. The flowers and Mom washed back one more time as if to say, "I love you." Then the ocean swept back in and took her forever. We all stood in the water for a few more moments saying goodbye and sending up prayers.<br />
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During all of this, one of the most beautiful people that I know was there silently observing and capturing the moment for us all. Film maker and photographer, Natasha Straley joined our family and encapsulated this moment with her camera. I am and will be forever grateful that she was able to come to Jones Beach and be there with us and for us on this journey. It was another reminder of how blessed we are as family.<br />
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I can't say that something magical happened for me today but when it was all said and done, a sense of peace came over us all. The heavy burden that I have felt for the last several moths was lifted. I will still grieve for my mother every day. That's just the nature of grief. It has to run its course. For the last three years she was integrated into my life in much of the same way that she was when I was a child. I'm truly grateful for that time. Bringing her home was a privilege and it will be something that I carry with me. It's something we'll all carry with us. I love my family with every fiber of my being and I'm thankful that we could be together. Maybe that's where the magic is.<br />
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Rest In Peace Mom. We love you.<br />
<br />
JoAnn Debra Almquist<br />
September 14, 1949 - January 23, 2016<br />
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<br />Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-23253289712200105472016-09-14T19:20:00.002-07:002016-09-14T19:20:50.519-07:00Birthday...Happy Birthday, Mom!<div>
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It's been a hard day without you here. I've tried to do my best to get through the day with more joy than sorrow. I can't lie, it's been hard. I would have loved to take the day off and spend it with you. I keep thinking about the time we took you to Bucca Di Beppo. Man we had quite a crowd there. We had so much for and dessert was crazy. I'll never forget the look on your face when they brought it out in that giant martini glass full of ice cream. It was topped with mounds of whipped cream and cherries. The best part was the giant spoon that they gave you to eat it with. You were totally overwhelmed. </div>
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Last year wasn't as full of ceremony but we still managed to go to dinner and spend time with you. I had hoped to have you here this year. I'm not going to tell you that I was planning anything major because you left us right after the new year but I know that I would have made big deal. You loved being the center of attention and it was fun to watch you be the center of attention. This would have been karaoke time!</div>
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I just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday wherever you are. This weekend we'll be taking you back home and back to your roots. I know you'll be happy there. It's going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life but you raised me to be a strong woman. I hope to feel you smiling down on us when we wish you a fare thee well. We're going to be all together like you asked. I love you.</div>
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Your daughter,</div>
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Valerie</div>
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P.S. I'll make sure to eat some cake:)</div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-86259212695556773262016-08-23T18:51:00.001-07:002016-08-23T18:51:36.254-07:00Moving ForwardSo far this year has been quite a journey. It's a journey I hoped I wouldn't have to take so soon. My whole family has been on the roller coaster of life trying to hang on the best we can. When I started this blog it was for the purpose of talking about my life and promoting my work. While I do talk about my life, it's become a way to heal. Maybe by opening myself up and sharing what I'm going through, someone else will get a little healing too.<br />
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Next month is going to be a wonderful and tough month all at the same time. Next month we travel as a family to Jones Beach, NY to let mom go and set her free. Next month is also the month she was born. I'm doing my best not to anticipate how I think I'll feel on her birthday. During the time that she lived with us, we made a big deal about her birthday every year. We'll see how I feel when that day rolls around. There are a lot of firsts that I have to experience in this year of grief. They say the first year is the hardest because of all the firsts; the first holiday season with out your loved one, the first birthday with out them, the first time you have a glass of wine without them. There are a myriad of firsts. It's the ones you don't expect that knock you down. So I'm trying to just live in the moment.<br />
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I've been working on my second book and that has been therapeutic. I'm busying myself with projects that I enjoy and know she would be proud of. Even with my mom gone, I still want to make her proud. I've been trying to remain positive about a lot things in my life as well. She always believed in me. She was like that with all of us kids. Sometimes she was a little misguided with her advice and her opinions on how she thought we should navigate life but it came from a place of love. It's funny how hind sight is 20/20.<br />
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I miss my mom everyday. It's going on the 7th month in my life without her and it hasn't gotten easier. Someone once told me that you just get used to the empty feeling. I don't think I'm getting used to it, I'm just accepting it. I know that it will get better. One day, when I think of her, I'll smile more than I'll cry. Today, I'm just taking it one day at a time and hoping that things I do in my life honor her and make her proud. I also hope that I make myself proud. It's important to live life the way she taught me but I also have to live life. I'm not so wrapped up in my grief that I have lost sight of that fact. I'm doing that one day at a time.<br />
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<br />Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-43294173410221319602016-07-25T12:14:00.000-07:002016-07-25T12:14:11.387-07:00Then There Were Four<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The familiar hum of the airplane whirs and buzzes around me
in spite of the music in my headphones. I’m plugged into my music trying my best to pretend
I’m on a large bus or train. I’ve always had a fear of flying but I’ll save that
story for another entry. That’s not why I’m writing today. Last night Cliff and
I missed our connecting flight to Buffalo, New York. It’s the week of our
anniversary and we’re going to see my friend Sue. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, because of air traffic and mechanical issues, we
missed the connecting flight and had to stay the night in Atlanta. There was a
lot of time to kill. Like most people, we pulled out our phones and perused
good old social media. A few things came up on my feed. There was the usual
political ranting, right and left wing, and no holds barred. Advertisements and
vacation pictures were in between the madness. Then my brother Mitch scrolled
into view. He posted two pictures that still have my heart reeling this
morning. For those of you that have flown with me, you know that I’m the chic
in Bridesmaids looking for the colonial woman churning butter on the wing. But
this morning she’s not there. I’m calm and burdened all at the same time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My brother and I have a special bond. We always have.
Through out child hood we have had experiences that are not for blog posting.
What I will tell you is that they were experiences that changed us as people
and in my mind they have tied us together more than the average sibling. So
when I saw his feed, I was broken hearted. I couldn’t reach out to him to give
a hug and I couldn’t call because it was late. Maybe I should have. <o:p></o:p></div>
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There on my phone was a picture of our mother whizzing
through the breeze on her scooter. The last few years she needed one because
walking long distances became difficult for her. On her hand was what my
husband would loving call her “Linus”; her vapor thing that she traded smoking
in for. There was a look of joy, peace, and mischief. I remember the day that
picture was taken. We were heading to the pool in our apartment complex and my
friend Melissa caught her in action. She was up to something and you could see
it in her face. Another friend, Lisse, always used to joke that Mom was up to
no good. I love that picture. It’s the visual depiction of Mom’s spirit. The
caption read, “This is what she’s doing now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The other picture that appeared on my screen was a picture
of my brother holding her hand while she lay taking her last breaths in the
hospital. The caption read, “I miss Mom.” Her manicure was perfect. She loved
the way Kevin at the nail salon I would take her to made a French manicure look
perfect. I saved both pictures even though I’m sure I have them. My brother and
Mom had a difficult relationship and that was the last time he had to spend
with her. I miss her so much that it makes my whole body hurt but I had her
with me the last three years. In that moment as I looked at that picture <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized how much I love my siblings. I
wanted to take my brother’s pain and sadness and keep it for myself so that he
didn’t have to endure it any longer. But I can’t. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As a middle child, I have always found myself trying to fix
the problems in my family. In some way or another, I wanted to take care of my
brother and my sisters. I still do. I’m not a mother and I never have been but
when I see them hurt, I wonder if this is what it’s like. I often heard my Mom
say that when we were in pain she was too. Seeing that picture made me feel
pain and guilt. I can’t fix this. I can’t mend them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then I thought about my sisters. Mom raised four strong
willed children. My siblings are very intelligent, creative, and pains in my
ass. I mean that with all the love I have in my heart. Through life and through
this journey of losing our mother, I have come to realize that even when I’m
angry with them or we’re having a good time, I want to take care of them. I
want to hold them until they feel how much I love them. Right now I’m not
getting along with one of my sisters and in spite of that, I still want to wrap
her in love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years it has been
rocky with all of us collectively. Whenever I see other families that get
along, I miss mine more and more. There were times that we played together and
laughed for hours. I miss those moments. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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As we surrounded my mother one last time, I knew this was
the last time we would all be together as a family. For so long it was just Mom
and the four of us against the world. She wasn’t a perfect mother. No one is.
But she loved us with everything she had in her. I can’t imagine what it must
have been like for her raising us alone. How many nights did she go to bed
worried or scared? I never asked her. But now some nights I go to bed worried
and scared for them. It’s a weird and I’m aware of that. The worry and fear is
really just a reality check. Growing up I always believed that I could make
them better. If I loved them enough, I could heal them. As I bump around at
30,000 feet, all I can think of is them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Our glue is gone. I always believed it was me but it wasn’t.
Mom was the tie between us even when half of us weren’t talking to her. She was
loud. She was funny. She was a pain in the ass and she was all ours. As I look
at those pictures I realize that we all had our own special connection to her.
Now that she’s gone, we’re all lost in some way. We’re trying to find our new
normal and it’s been tough. Each day seems like a rite of passage now. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t make it better but what my siblings don’t know is
that right now as I sit on this flight, they have taken care of me. I’m consumed
with love and worry for them. I was able to type this blog through most of the
flight. I feel them in my heart in this moment. I can’t take their pain away
but I can love them right here and now regardless of disagreements that we may
have at one time or another. I love with more than my heart and soul. I love
them with my whole being. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-23008754969200702512016-05-22T20:18:00.000-07:002016-05-22T20:18:10.325-07:00Moving forward...The journey is not easyMissing Mom has not been easy. It feels wrong. I feel guilty and then I feel sad. Then, I feel a rush of sadness again and then I cry. I thought at this point in my grief I thought that I would stop crying every day. That hasn't happened. My car is my favorite place to cry. Someone told me that when their mother passed away, they cried every day for a year. I don't want that to be me but I am learning that most of the time, it's not my choice. It sneaks up on you. It hits you in the stomach, upside the head, and then straight to the heart. I feel crazy and my body hurts. Another bonus of grieving I have been experiencing.<div>
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I'm not letting it stop me. Some days I just want it to consume me. I want to lay in bed and sob, then sleep, then cry some more. But the fighter in me, the voice that wants to make Mom proud, won't let me. So I get up early and I go to my workout class. Then I get ready for work. The day is ahead of me. I set weekly goals in my Passion Planner. Sometimes my goals are simple: meditate. Sometimes they're more complicated: Write, work on your book. But I'm trying. It's not easy. Everything reminds me of her. I mean EVERYTHING. I still gauge the quality of a restaurant by whether or not she could use the stairs to get into that building. In the time she lived with us, I unintentionally programmed myself to check out all of the handicapped parking. My husband and I attended a wedding this past weekend and I remembered our wedding and Mom. If I close my eyes and pause, I can hear her singing and playing the guitar. She's everywhere. It's comforting and heartbreaking. </div>
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It's funny the things I think about at night. I wonder if she's watching me. I can't be certain because I'm in the phase of not being sure what to think about all of that. I wonder if I told her I loved her more if that would bring her back. Of course it won't but the 5 year old inside of me misses her Mommy very much and wants to know anyway. I lost my sounding board. Parts of me are still the same but there is this new person who doesn't have Mom anymore. There is a new element of me and I'm trying to learn who that is. Grief can often shake a belief system, especially when it was already in question. </div>
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I'm embracing this journey of moving forward and trudging through the slog that is grief. What choice do I have? My bed is comfortable and my tears are cleansing but I do have some life ahead of me. I promise I'm doing everything I can not to get mired down by grief. There are opportunities in my future and if I don't take them, she'll haunt me ( if she is a ghost ). I wish I could say that it has gotten easier. It's not easier. Reality has fully set in and I can either wallow in it or do my best to live with the hole in my heart. I have dear friends who have made this journey. Most have said that the journey continues, you just learn to navigate it. I will miss her until the day comes that someone will miss me too. I love you Mom. </div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-90515304891524657602016-05-08T13:04:00.001-07:002016-05-08T13:04:09.544-07:00Mother's Day...SighFor the last three Mother's Day celebrations, my husband Cliff snuck out of the house and bought flowers and a card for his mother-in-law. Then he'd trek over to the grocery store and buy groceries with the intention of making a lovely meal for Mom. We hung out with Mom and spent time. She loved her flowers and enjoyed the meal made by Cliff. "My favorite son-in-law!" she'd say. This Mother's Day has been quite different. <div>
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Cliff made his usual trek to the grocery store to get groceries for a lovely meal but two things are missing; flowers for Mom and Mom. This is the first Mother's Day that I'm not celebrating with Mom. At least not in person. I feel the loss more heavily than I anticipated. We're still doing dinner in her honor. My sister, Jodie, is here to celebrate as well and I'm so grateful. We'll have a great meal and then we'll all sign a card that we'll burn. We're still making this most of this day. </div>
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At first the Mother's Day advertisements didn't bother me at all. I'm sure in some ways I intentionally ignored them. I pretended I didn't care. Then I went card shopping with Cliff. We still had to send his mom a card. So there I was standing in the card aisle at CVS watching him and other customers pick out cards. Out of nowhere it hit. Bam! Mom is gone and I can't pick out a card. I started sobbing and I freaked out half the customers in the store. It's not like I fell apart in the middle of the sales floor. I wasn't screaming or yelping. I simply sobbed. I felt more empty and alone even though I was surrounded by people. That's the thing about grief. It isolates you without meaning to. It just happens. You're the only person in the room in a fog. I looked at Cliff and I noticed he wasn't picking cards out anymore. He held one out to me and with held back tears said, "This one's for your Mom. We'll burn it and have a glass of wine." I smiled through the tears. Mom and I used to share a glass of wine some evenings. </div>
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I miss Mom. My sister and I talked about that a lot this weekend. It's good to be spending time with her. It's been hard grieving without family. Cliff has been such a rock through all of this but sometimes it's comforting to grieve with a sibling. So today instead of being sad and angry that Mom isn't here, we're celebrating the woman she was and the fact that she was our Mom. Happy Mother's Day, Mom wherever you are. We love you.</div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-79196507867385559242016-04-11T15:35:00.000-07:002016-04-11T15:37:08.744-07:00No longer a daughter...The last words my Mom said to were, "Can't breathe.." over the phone. Her voice still rings in my ears since that day. I was working on my first client of the day when she messaged me that she needed help. In those few seconds, I knew this was it. We had called 911 and been subjugated to time in the ICU twice before. I was worried and stressed both times but I knew it was different this time. I foolishly told her to call 911 and let her know I was on my way. I called Cliff and told him to get home and I called my sister to let her know she needed to get here. Then I called 911 from my car because I had that feeling. I made a mistake. I should have called first. My mind was already in driving mode. I was desperate to treat this like the routine it had become. I should have listened to the feeling and called right away. It was a difference of 5-7 minutes.<br />
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I arrived at my house to an ambulance and a fire truck. Cliff greeted me in the driveway. "It's not good," he said. "She's not breathing and her heart is stopped." Panic set in and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see anything but tears. I can vaguely remember the sequence of events. They all sort of go together. There was text messaging to people in my acting class letting them know I wasn't going to be there. There was a hurried phone call to my sister. At some point I made my way into the house. There in my living room floor surrounded by police and paramedics was my mother. They were doing compressions and injecting something that I can't recall. She was blue and lifeless as they made every effort to literally pounded her heart and life back into rhythm. At one point they asked me to leave the room. They had to and I can't blame them. In that moment, the fear was so great that everything went blank within my mind and my being. I was outside of myself watching Mom die.<br />
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I couldn't hear well. I couldn't see well and yet I was more aware than ever. I had often imagined what this moment might be like and I still wasn't prepared. You never are.<br />
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We followed the ambulance to the hospital and sat in the emergency room forever. Minutes pass very slowly when facing one's fear. Cliff made all the phone calls to family. I sat holding my mother's lifeless hand in the emergency room. Machines breathed for her as the doctor explained what she thinks may have happened. The only thing I understood was that her heart had stopped and they finally got it beating. I think that was what the paramedic was explaining to me as well in the waiting room. That whole day was a fog.<br />
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Through out the next few days, we knew Mom wasn't going to wake up. My brother arrived and after lots of tears and family strife, we all pulled together to let her go. Prayers were said. We let her know how much we loved her. And then she was gone. It was quiet and it was heart wrenching. To say that we were heavy hearted is an understatement. I don't know if you can describe truly what that moment feels like. Mom was always our mom. She had taken care of us. There were times when it was just the four of us and her against the world. Now it's just the four of us.<br />
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For the next few weeks, I was in a fog. I'm still in that fog. The hardest adjustment is that she isn't here. She lived with me and Cliff for the last few years. She was a part of the every day routine in our house. Every morning before I left for work, I let Benny ( the family fur baby ) into her room. At night we had chats about anything and nothing. She drove me crazy on a daily basis and yet I loved having her here. It's weird isn't it? I'd get so frustrated with her and then we'd share a glass of wine. I miss all of it every day.<br />
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It took me several weeks to be able to come into the house by myself after work. I was afraid to go in for lots of reasons. For one, she always greeted me when I came in, no matter how late. And two, every time I tried to walk in, I was paralyzed by the fear of seeing her in the floor with the paramedics. We ended up rearranging the living room and getting new furniture. It helps but there are still days that I don't get out of my car right away. I also don't spend time in the living room unless Cliff is home. I try not to look at her bedroom door either.<br />
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I know that she'll always be my Mom but I deal with the reality that she no longer exists in this world. I know she's in my heart and I have all of my memories with her. I hear that all the time. It's a great sentiment but it doesn't fill the hole that I carry, the hole we all carry when we lose a loved one. I literally have a hole in my heart that will be empty for the rest of my days. It will get better with time but time just hasn't passed enough yet. Some days I still feel her. Someone asked me if I felt like an orphan. I don't think so. I grew up with a parent that I knew and loved well. I feel like I'm not her daughter anymore and that makes me feel lost.<br />
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The week following her passing I had a dream about her. I have only shared this with a few people but now I'm sharing it with all of you. In my dream she woke up. She was still in the hospital bed and there was a beautiful soft light all around her. Her eyes were full of color and light. Her hair was perfect and she smiled at through her lashes. I told her, "Mommy you scared us." She smiled again and I felt warmth. Then I woke up. I've had dreams about her since but thats the only one where we really had any connection.<br />
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I'm doing my best to move on and live life. That's what she wanted. In fact, one of her requests was not to have a funeral. She wanted a big party that celebrated her life and we did just that. I will grieve and I will continue to cry a lot. But I am determined to live the life I dreamed of and the life that she dreamed for me. But still..it's one day at a time. I love you Mom.<br />
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This is one of my favorite pictures with the four of us and Mom. We got those outfits from Santa.</div>
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Our first selfie together. She had just had her first food truck experience. </div>
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Mom and Benny</div>
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Im not sure how old she is in this photo. Possibly her twenties. </div>
<br />Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-40528835474714257312015-12-25T07:07:00.003-08:002015-12-25T07:07:54.151-08:00Memories and Magic"OK now be quiet and sit still," my mother said as she instructed us to take a place on the couch. "He'll be here any minute." We were so excited. The biggest and most important celebrity in all of kid-dom was paying a visit to our house.<br /><br /> My mom had to be very creative during the holidays. As a single mother of four children, we didn't have much and resources were limited. The holiday season was a special time for my family because my Mom found a way to make the magic of Christmas come alive in our home. This year we were going to get a special visit from the Big Guy himself. <br /><br /> "How come he is coming early," one of us asked.<br /> "Well," Mom replied, "He is trying to get ahead this year I guess. All I know is that <br /> I heard he was coming early so I put in a call to his elves and we got lucky."<br /> <br /> We sat patiently as Mom put the cookies and milk out on the dining room table. She used my grandmother's good China and a fancy napkin; nothing but the best for our special guest. We whispered with hushed excitement to one another. The possibilities of what we might get were endless. Mom checked the peephole one last time to make sure that he hadn't arrived yet. Everything, including the four of us, was ready.<br /><br /> Like a mist creeping under the front door, he appeared. "Ho, ho, ho!"<br />There we was in a glorious red suit. He carried a large bag and and had an elf following closely behind him. Santa arrived at our house and he was more than jolly. He was the first and most important celebrity that I would ever meet in my life and he was delivering presents to us personally. Wow!<br /><br /> After we settled down, my Mom escorted him to the dining room table. He ate the cookies and milk while he answered all of our questions about the elves, the sleigh, and Rudolph. No matter what we asked, he had the right answer. His eyes twinkled and his laugh filled our home with love and magic. He was enchanting and everything that my six year old mind had dreamed of. Santa had come to town and we were among the privileged few who had a quiet visit. <br /><br /> He reached into his big bag and pulled out a present for each of us. Laughing with excitement, we opened them in a flash. We each got identical sweatsuits with E.T. on the sweatshirt; my brother's was blue and ours was red. E.T. was very popular then so we were over the moon with joy. Then Santa had to leave. We said "Goodbye" and "Thank you soooo much!" "You're welcome and be good. Remember, I'm watching." With a wink and smile, he was gone. I am sure that I heard the bells from his sleigh as he made his way to the next house. <br /><br /> Years later, I asked my mom about that night. It turns out that Santa and his elf was a nice couple who wanted to reach out to their community. They put an ad in the paper saying they would deliver presents for free. My Mom wasn't sure who they really were but she trusted them anyway. She left the gifts by the door so that he could bring them in when he made his grand entrance. Anything could have happened that night but instead it was a night where two people gave their time and love to strangers. They wanted to make Christmas special. The magic I felt that night was real. Miracles happen in all kinds of ways.<br /><div>
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I miss that time so much. I can remember the last time I had Christmas with all of my siblings. I'm sure my mom can't remember either. I love my family and in spite of whatever we have done or said to one another, I miss them and hope that the next miracle is all of us together on Christmas one more time. </div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-72204875444721914322015-11-24T21:03:00.000-08:002015-11-24T21:03:46.750-08:00In Loving Memory...It's been three years since my father-in-law passed away. He left quietly on the morning before Thanksgiving. We had all been taking care of him around the clock for three weeks. Cliff and I drove in every weekend to relieve his mother and his aunt. Hospice came in and helped but I didn't realize that they weren't there all the time. This wasn't my first experience with death and losing a loved one, but it was the first time for me to see "the light fade". I know this is going to sound crazy, but that holiday season and that time are something that I cherish.<br />
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I met my father-in-law when I was twenty. I had been dating Cliff for a few months and I was nervous about meeting these people. I already knew that they were different from anyone I had ever met. They were country folks and I was a city girl. I had talked on the phone with Johnnie ( later he was Dad to me ) only once. He seemed funny and he liked to talk...a lot. He told me that when Cliff was a little boy, Cliff screamed with terror before he got a spanking. In fact, that was how he got out them. I almost didn't understand him through his laughter as he recounted the story to me. I was already struggling to make out what he said. He had a crazy Cajun/East Texas accent combo that made it hard for me to understand him. I don't remember much about the first time I met him, only that he was funny and I laughed a lot.<br />
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On our wedding day, he wore his first tux ever in his life. He smiled and strutted with pride, He looked good! During our first kiss, he told Cliff to, "Give her the tongue boy!" Dad was always saying something off the wall. That's who he was and he didn't apologize for it. He just let it all out. He had already been through so much in life that he probably thought, "What the hell?" He was the recipient of heart surgeries and back surgeries. Over the years that Cliff and I were married, I witnessed many episodes of hospital stays and moments that we thought were his last. That stubborn old goat pulled through every time but it was clear that he was on borrowed time. We all knew it but he understood it. Looking back, I suspect he knew when he was in the last year of his life. I wish he would have clued us in but death is funny that way. It's quiet and sneaky. Death can lurk for months and whisper, "I'm here," while we are all busy living life.<br />
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I had an amazing relationship with Dad. He had become another parent to me. Whenever he and my mother-in-law stayed with us, he and I would sit up late at night chatting away. In the morning, he made sure we had coffee. Whenever we went to visit them, he was usually my first hug. It as customary for me to climb into his lap like a little kid and hug his neck. When we took road trips, he was my co-pilot. My dad is far away from me so to have another loving dad close by was a blessing.<br />
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The weeks leading up to his death, I read over the literature that the hospice care people left behind. I wanted to make sure that I understood what was happening for my family and for myself. That literature gave me the strength to keep it together. Dad knew he was leaving and I wanted him to see that we would be OK, that I would be OK. It may seem unusual for a daughter-in-law to cling so closely to a family she married into but you have to understand, I was 20 years old when this man came into my life. I had been married to his son for fifteen years at that point. Dad watched me and his son become thriving adults together.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong, like every family we had our issues. It wasn't all sweet memories with roses and butterflies. If I was reading a book, he got frustrated with me. He didn't understand why I would want to do that instead of spending talking to him. He used to give me lots of shit because Cliff and I had not had children. It made me angry that he continued to abuse his body with cigarettes and bad eating habits. But that's family. That's what happens and I had to accept him for better or for worse too. At the end of the day, he was my buddy. He was my other dad. He is still part of my heart.<br />
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The morning he took his last breath, we were all exhausted. Another thing I learned about death is that while it's on its way, the soul it's coming to get doesn't keep regular hours. They are up and down often and they need pain medicine. They need support to go to the bathroom. The body shuts down and everyone has to be there to help it. Some nights, I just held his hand while he slept or hallucinated. Believe it or not, there was laughter and love through the whole process but it was exhausting. I'm not a nurse and now I appreciate what they do.<br />
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He drew his last breath around 8:00 AM. My mother-in-law, Cliff and I were quietly talking and joking to try and lighten our spirits. There were no lights on. The sun barely cracked through the curtains giving just enough light in the living room. The living room was the only space big enough for the hospital bed that Dad slept in. My sweet niece, Jessica, was in the shower. I have to give a shout out to her. She was 20 years old at that time and she had been there every weekend taking shifts to help care for her Grandpa. She showed more maturity and love than I ever could have at that age and I am so proud of her. I can't imagine what that experience was like for her and she did an amazing job stepping in.<br />
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Dad breathed in and out one last time. We all looked. It was like we didn't know what to do. Cliff got up first and went to Dad's side.<br />
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"Dad?" he said quietly. Then Mom got up and went to his side. I sat in the chair just to the side of him and watched, holding my breath. Cliff felt Dad's chest first and then lay his head down to listen.<br />
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"He's gone," Cliff breathed.<br />
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"I love you, baby," Mom whispered.<br />
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Just like that, death had carried him away. There were no tremors. Trumpets didn't sound. It was just quiet. There is nothing more silent than when a soul has left and the light has gone out. Of course in those moments after, the scene from a dark comedy played itself out. Dad had requested that his false teeth be put back in after he died. He wanted to be buried with his teeth.<br />
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"I'll do it," Mom said.<br />
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Cliff helped open Dad's mouth and mom started to insert them. Cue the comedy...<br />
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"You're putting them in sideways!" Cliff exclaimed.<br />
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"No they go in this way!" Mom informed.<br />
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"Are you sure?" Cliff asked.<br />
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"I'm sure" she answered. She should know, she had her own set as well.<br />
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This moment was Dad. Dad loved to laugh and I'm sure he was somewhere laughing at us. Only this crazy family would be debating over how false teeth were supposed to go in. Dad was a funny guy so why wouldn't he have a last laugh at our expense? There was still sadness but at least the tension had broken. That's how this family works. In spite of sadness, they all get through it. When they were planning for the funeral, my husband asked about a used casket so they could get a better deal. I know this all sounds morbid, but the one thing I have learned from my in-laws is that you really can laugh through your tears.<br />
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Yesterday when I was driving into work, it hit me that it was the anniversary of his death. How could I forget? He left this world at a time of year when we're all supposed to be thankful for what we have. I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. I would have pulled over but I was on the freeway. That's the funny thing about grief. You don't get to decide when you're going to do it. Sometimes, it just happens. I allowed myself to cry and let it all out. After that, I went on with the rest of my day and celebrated life in honor of Dad.<br />
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I miss the old fart. I miss him terribly. He was the father I didn't know I needed. He was loud, funny, annoying, and goofy. I will always remember his laugh and I will miss hugging his neck. My advice; hug your loved ones. Love them with every fiber of your being. We're not promised tomorrow and today is we all have. Happy Thanksgiving!<br />
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I love you Dad Frazee.<br />
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-31062178075755187922015-11-10T21:12:00.001-08:002015-11-10T21:12:39.041-08:00ReflectionsWow! I can't believe we are halfway through November. The holiday season is upon us and I find myself in a funky way. In the last few months I have tried and worked my tail off trying to grow as an actor. I have also spent time growing my business and promoting my book. I have been busy. I had hoped that one of these posts would find me bragging about another acting job booked or that I had become a best selling author. However, I'm still successful even if I feel like I'm not.<br />
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The acting thing is something I will never figure out. I am trying and I study my craft hard. This month I am doing a character study on the late Ann Miller, a famous tap dancer who made her way into Hollywood during it's Golden Era. As part of my study I have been watching hours of footage. I have also been taking tap lessons from Kate Evetts, owner and instructor at Lonestar Dance Studio in Pflugerville . Tomorrow I will present Ann to the class. So even though I am not booking and I haven't auditioned in a while, I'm enjoying the work and all that comes with being an actor. I still get sad about not being on set more but that is life.<br />
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My book is selling well but I learned that Amazon is blocking some of my good reviews. That's annoying. I had a reader reach out to me with her review because Amazon wouldn't post it. Oh Amazon! You are the devil we know. Of course I am still pleased that I published a book and that I will have another one on the way.<br />
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In the midst of busy salon life, the owners of the salon I work at parted ways. One moved on and one kept the place going and I am so grateful. The last thing I wanted to do was change locations during the holidays with my crazy schedule. Without going into details, the split has been emotional. Things have been said and feelings have been hurt. The only thing I can say is that I am grateful for my salon family. Change is good even when we can't see it. My biggest take away is that if I allow myself, I can be spiteful and angry. These last few weeks taught me that I need to breathe and let go. I also need to respect the people around me no matter what. This too shall pass.<br />
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Mom and I are making progress. Every day I try to make sure that I am talking to her and having good conversation. I once had a friend tell me that she wished she could have one more conversation with her mother after she passed. I'm trying to do that now, you know, fill each day with love and a chat with Mom.<br />
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This season I am going to be grateful.<u> I am blessed and I am lucky.</u> Life is so much out of our control. The only thing I can control is myself and what I choose to watch on Netflix. Plus I can hug Cliff. These past months have taught me that I am susceptible to wallowing in self pity. I need to let that go and take life one day at a time. Yesterday is over and tomorrow does not exist. I only have today.Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-90810218916263312692015-11-02T14:40:00.002-08:002015-11-02T14:40:36.314-08:00The Good Daughter?"You are such a good daughter," I heard from a client the other day. In conversation it came up that my mother lives with my husband and me. Most people don't know that about me. Mom's been living with us for the last three years. I could go through the laundry list of why she is here with us but the only thing that really matters is that she needed me. In American culture we don't like to deal with family, especially parents. And rightly so. Family can be a pain in the ass. Family can be toxic. They can take advantage of you. They're the one group that you can love and hate at the same time. Sometimes you just hate them.<br />
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When I first realized that I needed to have Mom here, I was barraged with a multitude of opinions. Most of them were negative. "I can't believe you'd want your mom to live with you!" or "Just get her an apartment nearby!" However, there were also words of encouragement. "You're doing the right thing," they would say. I'm not sure what the "right" thing really is. I don't have a disposable income so getting an apartment was not an option. All I understood was that she needed me. Cliff and I braced ourselves and moved to a bigger space to accommodate her. </div>
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Having a bigger space was just the beginning. We secured a storage for all of her stuff, and I mean ALL of her stuff. My mom is a Baby Boomer and they like to keep their stuff. They think it's super valuable ( I looked on Ebay at several items. Let's be real Baby Boomers, you all saved your stuff so it's not worth much now ). My heart strings pulled at me. Many folks gave me advice. They said, "Just give her a room and whatever she can fit in there is what she keeps!" The logic in me agreed with that advice. The heart side of me felt the sadness and loss of a life that once was. In that storage unit was 64 years of a life that had been lived. There were boxes of memories and totes full of years gone by. </div>
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In an argument about her stuff one evening she said, "That's my life in there! That's me. It's all I have." My heart sank and my throat knotted up. Yes it's just stuff. It's junk really. But to her, it was all she had left of an independent life. Now she had moved to Texas to depend on her daughter. She was living with her kid. I'm sure most parents don't want to live with their children. </div>
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So the adjustments continued. I had to learn to deal with this person in my house. In the years we had lived apart, I had become a grown up. With acting, daily salon life, writing, and trying to be a wife, my schedule had no time for the old lady my mom had become. We would have to adjust everything. Privacy became a word that sounded like a magical kingdom in a land far away. Our "married" time became limited. It was like having a kid, only bigger and more cantankerous. Poor Cliff gets resentful some times. But he handles it well and with grace. </div>
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Six months after she moved in, something happened that made me grateful to have her here. There were no words of wisdom and Hallmark moments. Three weeks before Christmas, I was showering on a late Monday morning. It was one of the days I had off and had the luxury of taking my time. I was going to meet a friend for coffee and enjoy my day. Cliff had just left for work and I was basking in the glow of a hot shower. I was running conditioner through my hair when I heard heavy breathing outside of my shower curtain. I pulled the drape back and looked into the face of my mother. She looked pale and slightly green. Her eyes were wide and she had a slight grin. In her hand she held her vapor device. </div>
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"Yes? What do you need?" I asked her. </div>
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"I'm supposed to go blah ble blah," she replied. </div>
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I asked her again and she repeated the same phrase over and over. Then she said she needed to lie down. I noticed her legs were a mess as she left the bathroom. </div>
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"Mom! Have you been outside?" She didn't answer me. She kept on muttering and collapsed on my bed. I jumped out of the shower and threw my bath robe on. With out giving all of the gory details, I realized that she had lost control of her bowels and she had no idea where she was. She wouldn't even let me touch her. I called Cliff and told him to come back and then made the first 911 call in my life. </div>
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"I need an ambulance," I said with calm confidence. "My mother collapsed and she's still breathing."</div>
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Before I could tell the operator what was happening, she went into a series of questions that had nothing to do with the situation at hand. I got desperate and started to panic. Then the operator said, "Mam, I need you to be quiet and listen to me."<br />
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Full panic mode set it in. This bitch as asking me questions and I needed an ambulance. I cried and started a series of swear words that is probably still hanging in that apartment today. About that time the paramedics arrived and Cliff showed up too. </div>
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As soon as the paramedics carted her out, I ripped my robe off and got dressed as the last paramedic realized he had been flashed heading out of the door. I braided my goopy hair ( Remember I hadn't rinsed my hair ). I cancelled my coffee date and called family while following the ambulance to the hospital. In that moment the small child within realized that my mommy was mortal. She could die. I cried the whole day. I will spare you the details of her hospital stay. All you need to know is that she was septic and had to stay in ICU for a week.</div>
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So you would think that this incident would make me more patient. It did for like 10 minutes. Once she got out and things went back to normal, she got on my nerves again. Some days are a huge effort to be nice. I have seen more doctors and specialists on her behalf. They talk to both of us as they diagnose and treat every medical situation that she has. In my hectic life, I have become a care taker at 39. There are many days that I resent her. I get angry because she won't eat healthy. When she texts or calls me to pick a prescription up, I get pissed off. I shouldn't but I do. There are many days when my patience wears thin. </div>
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Then the guilt sets in. This is my mother and she won't be here forever. I will regret every harsh word and every moment that I didn't spend with her. I marinate on those thoughts and then I get a phone call that we need butter and coffee. That woman drinks way more coffee than any one human being should. She could go get it herself but why leave the house? Who cares that I spent the day working? I'm again. See? It's a vicious cycle and now I feel guilty again.<br />
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My reprieves are nights away from home with Cliff every so often, my acting class, and the fantasy that Rob Thomas and I will sing a duet one day. ( One day it will happen, I've seen the man in concert 5 times! ) It's the little things that get me through.<br />
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I love my mom and I wouldn't change the decision I made to have her here with me. And Cliff is a saint. I don't want to be told I'm a good daughter. I'm not. I'm just trying to pay my bills and get through life like everyone else. I'm taking care of my family. I'm not a good daughter. I'm just me. </div>
Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-19076442986529958562015-10-03T02:44:00.001-07:002015-10-03T02:44:48.209-07:00Do I hear a bear?It's 4:18 in the morning and I'm up! I hate it when I wake up! I love sleep. I don't relish in insomniac behavior the way some people do. I love sleep! There is something magical and calming about the way my soft pillow feels against my cheek. The covers wrap around me with love and the sheets feel soft and amazing on my legs. My mattress is the perfect blend of softness meeting firmness. I love sleep I tell you.<br />
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So what has me up this fine EARLY morning? A few things really. A trip to the bathroom, a roast in the crockpot, and my sweet darling husband who sometimes snores loudly. Yes I said it. My pillow is just not soft enough for the rumbling and roar of the bear next me? Do I hear a bear? No! Just the growling and grumbling of my darling husband as he sucks in the ceiling. I know he can't help it. I get it. Sometimes I talk in my sleep and I can't help that. But it is disconcerting to hear a bear in the bed next to you. Some nights, he snores right into my hear as he cuddles me to the edge of our comfy bed. Then I have a hot flash and I have to kick him off of me. I'm not a body pillow for crying out loud! Get off me!<br />
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So now you are asking yourself, "Val, I thought you love that Cliff guy? After all, you even based a character on him and his great demeanor." You're right! I did. I have been married to this man for eighteen years. We got married at birth and we have managed to stay together and make it work in spite of the hardships that drive most couples apart. We work hard at this marriage thing. It's not easy and anyone who tells you it is is probably signing papers really soon. We are a team. I wouldn't trade hime for anything in the world. I really wouldn't.<br />
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This is marriage folks. It's not just a wedding party with all the frills and great cake. It's not about buying your first house or picking out a new couch together. It's bills and family members. It's waking up and taking the dog out in the middle of the night or changing that beautiful child's stinky diaper. It's having your parent move in with you because now it's your turn to take care of them. Marriage is a constant game of compromise, ups and downs, and a spouse that wakes you in the middle of the night as he shakes the whole room with his snoring.<br />
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So what's my point? Well I'm up for one. But that's not really my point. Life is precious. Even nights like these are something to be cherished. I wouldn't trade my life for anything in the world. Sure I wish I booked more acting work. I hope that my book becomes a best seller some day. I want a lot of blessings to continue to come my way. I wish I booked that show I auditioned four times for. But these desires don't change what I have already. This gift I have that I call my every day life is what inspired me to write Unrequited. So while I'm up, I will complain but behind that complaining is gratitude. After all, bears are warm :)Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2109884827775130129.post-45585282251208849252015-09-07T09:56:00.000-07:002015-09-07T09:56:16.706-07:00I'm Lazier Than You Think...I don't even know where to begin. The past month has flown by. My salon life has totally taken over. It's a good thing and I'm super grateful. But it has caused me to be a bit lazy in my other endeavors as an actress and a writer. Don't worry I haven't been completely lazy but I have noticed enough slacking that it has caused me to make sure I give myself a schedule. So this month I have been really exploring all the times that I waste on my phone or in front of the television. I'm not a big television watcher and some of what I do on the phone is for the work I do in all capacities. However, there are times I'm just diddling. <div>
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I attended a hair show this past weekend in Houston and I learned a lot. Not just about new hair techniques and the benefits of social media. Don't worry, I made copious notes on the aforementioned. I also had an awakening. A reality check if you will. I learned that I can do better. I can give more to all of my crafts and still have time with my family. I know it sounds like I am creating more work for myself. I am. But it's work I enjoy. I love being creative. Everything I do is creative including coming up with marketing strategies and ways to promote myself. What I realized is that utilizing the time I waste diddling, I will actually give myself more time to hang out with family and friends. I will give myself more luxury time. The secret? What we have all learned and what I must do even though it's the one thing frightens me. I have to go back to getting up early.</div>
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I love my bed sooooo much. The pillows are amazing and my blanket feels fabulous hugged up around me. Laying in my cozy bed, I feel relaxed, at peace. Anything is possible. It's there that I have a lot of great ideas and moments of inspiration. The problem is that I lay there and sleep through all of that. One of the reasons I finally finished my first book is because I got up and utilized that creative energy in the morning. I also fit in more gym time. I got just as much sleep as I do now. I just got moving faster than I do now. Moving is the key to getting anything done. Move out of your comfort zone. </div>
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I am also utilizing technology a little more. I am not only blogging from my phone now, but I have made all the tools I need accessible from my gadget. I don't know why I didn't do this before. My headshot and resume are on my phone, for example. I am able to submit to myslf for projects that my agent may not be able to every time. I can even access my demo reel link for your tube. I keep notes about my story ideas on the notepad. I make notes about color and hair/inspiration for photo shoots and for work in the salon. </div>
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What can I say? It takes me a while. I was already starting to catch on and implement some of what I have been talking about. The awakening at the hair show has driven me to take it to the next level and to refine my work ethics more. I needed a nudge. See, I have heard that I am diverse and that I am hard worker several times in the past weeks. I need to make that ring true I my heart. It hasn't for so long. </div>
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I'm still just me. I am going to slip now and again, but when I have moments of clarity, I get more done and I move forward. I am grabbing life my friends and taking advantage of stolen moments.</div>
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Val Frazeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16659554080381268404noreply@blogger.com0