The Golden Thread of Life

 

When thinking about life, it is easy to understand why so many cultures have stories and legends about gods, goddesses, and all sorts of beings invested with power over the human life.  In times when diseases were not understood, it made perfect sense that someone, or something evil, caused afflictions.  Recently, it has been The Fates that occupied my thoughts. One Fate to spin the thread of life, one to measure that thread, and one to cut the thread to end life. Their work seemed capricious, taking down both good and evil gods, as well as mortal humans. In fact, their power over life and death made them the most feared and the most powerful of all the magical deities in both Greek and Roman mythology.

Three weeks ago, I was given health news that made me think of my own golden thread. How Atropos may have been sharpening her scissors not so far behind me. Meanwhile, Cotho, the spinner and Lachesis, the allotor, would continue to spin and measure until the scissor performed its duty.

 

I spent anxious days waiting until the "as soon as possible" test would confirm what I had already been told - a 90% chance of a heart attack — soon. I learned how capricious life is. Within two weeks I lost two friends. One who had called me to tell me she was going to die, and there was nothing to do for it, so she was at peace with it. She said she specifically called me to “make her laugh,” using my Laughter Wellness powers. And laugh we did.  We made plans for a short visit, depending on how her day would be going, but the Fates had other plans. On the day I was having my nuclear scan and stress test, she passed away in her sleep.  

 

This news came right after there was an unexpected turn of events for me. Had this been Ancient Greek, I would have sworn that Zeus intervened for me. After the testing, my doctor had called me and said, despite the frightful calcium score, my heart was just fine — not just fine, but strong, and there were no restrictions to blood flow. As he had originally predicted from my first visit, he instructed me to continue with my cholesterol meds, stay on the baby aspirin, and come back in six months. Atropos would have to wait.

 

As I was processing mixed emotions, three days later, a long-time friend died suddenly and unexpectedly. I could not comprehend it. My grief-stricken brain kept playing out the “why” and “what if” scenarios. As humans, the only guarantee is that you will die — your golden thread of life will run out. 

 

I know in my heart that there are no Fates pulling the strings. The world is full of religions, beliefs, theories, and superstitions. In times of grief, heartache, and loss, we seek out to make sense of tragedy through our beliefs.  Well-meaning friends offer condolences, prayers, meditations, hugs and helping hands. But in the end, Death holds all the threads, and leaves behind the scars of loss. Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy said it best:

 

“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”

 

May all our wounds gently rest as scars, and memories of shared smiles and laughter weave a golden thread around our hearts, to bring us comfort.

We are frightened, but not alone.

“In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself.”

Read more at: https://www.blinkist.com/magazine/posts/15-enlightening-darkness-quotes-illuminate-path?utm_source=cpp

 

 

“It's like the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad has happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. I know now folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something. That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.” 

Samwise Gamgee,  The Return of the King, JRR Tolkein 

 

Links to things I need to remember: 

 The Political is Personal

And Now I March for Science

Hiroshima

 

 

Family History Comes to Visit

 

Every time I go to a doctor, I am asked to fill out a form that, at some point, will ask me about family medical history. I list my father’s death at age 23, recently adding that it was most likely from contaminated water at Camp Lejeune. I mention my mother’s alcoholism and heart attack death at age 56, and my grandmother’s deadly aortic aneurism. In my younger years these reports were of interest to me, but not necessarily pertaining to me. I rarely drink and never smoked. As I got older, there were concerns about blood pressure, cholesterol, and most recently type II diabetes. Currently, all those issues are under control with meds, diet and exercise. I’ve been patting myself on the back for controlling my blood sugar so well that I don’t need any medication for that. Recently, after reading about a female runner who didn’t start running races until she was 70, I decided to start training myself. I was excited about completing my first race. Who knew I was walking around with a heart that would soon be described as having a 90% chance of a heart attack.  

It started with my younger sister. Eager to take an early retirement, she decided to get a complete physical and check-up while she was still employed. Within a short period of time, she learned that she had an elevated calcium score, was catharized, and had two stents put in. One of her arteries was 95% blocked. She encouraged me to get checked. Suddenly, our mother’s deadly heart attack at 56 could have been caused by more than her alcoholism. Family history is important.

I started the tests. At first, things appeared good, excellent blood work, especially regarding triglycerides and cholesterol. The cardiologist told me that once the tests were finished, I’d probably have to see him once a year. Until yesterday.

The day before I had a calcium score test. The technician told me that it would take about a week to get the results. I went on my merry way. I even missed the early morning call from the cardiologist. He left a message about some elevation, and I should start taking baby aspirin and call the office. While I was driving to work, I called his office (hands free, of course! Safety first). What they told me almost caused me to drive off the road.

“Elevation” was a mild word for my results. My score was way higher than my sister’s, putting me into the 90% chance of a heart attack category. Suddenly, everyone at the cardiologist’s office knew my name. They fast-tracked me for a Nuclear Myocardial Perfusion Scan, transferring me to the scheduling department with instructions to remind them this was an urgent situation. Well, I didn’t have to do that. As soon as I said my name, she replied, “Oh yes, I was just reviewing your paperwork.”

And despite the urgency, I will still have to wait a week to get the test done. As a person with anxiety issues anyway, it sounded like an eternity. I spent the rest of the day alternately crying and sleeping. Dale, the love of my life I have written about before, was supportive. He has his own calcium score burden, thankfully much lower than mine. It was a comfort to feel like we were now on the same team. We were horrified to discover how much salt contributes to these issues (we knew about cholesterol, and rarely added salt to our food – but it is in practically everything!)

As my anxiety quieted, I realized that my sister’s issue and my issue have a common denominator – family history. We have to take it seriously. 

 

The "Retirement" Conundrum

 

The reality of retirement vanished for me the day my divorce was finalized. I didn’t understand the implications at the time, as I was too busy learning how to support four of us on 50% of what five had previously lived with. I needed to replace a home, a car, and unhappily, a different job that paid more.

The concept of living “paycheck to paycheck” was my daily reality – even with child support. My eyes still burn with tears remembering how I had to sell the townhouse I bought for us. As small as it was (my “bedroom” was actually in the unfinished basement), the mortgage, HOA fees, and utilities quickly overwhelmed me. I added a second job, which created some amount of chaos for my teenage children who were already suffering from the loss of security.  The house I intended to buy was even smaller, but at least it was a single family with a yard. But again, only an unfinished basement would serve as an additional bedroom. Still, we had plans.

The night before the closings on the sale of the townhouse and the purchase of the bungalow I got news that our “new” home was actually not available to buy. The title was not clear, the seller had no right to sell the house, but according to law, had 30 days to solve the legal issues. I stood in the empty townhouse, with our dog, and the sleeping bag I had used the night before, in shock.

First came the uncomfortable conversation with my ex-husband, who had agreed to let the kids stay with him for the transition from one home to another. Then came the call to the movers, who already had all our furniture, to not deliver it, but now start to store it.

I got in my car with the dog to go to the closing of the townhouse and realized that I was homeless. Sure, there was some profit from the sale of the townhouse, but that was supposed to be the down payment on the bungalow. Eventually those funds would decrease significantly over the next months, in order to board the dog in a kennel, pay for a room for myself in a motel, and the storage fees for all our belongings. Feeling put-upon for housing his children, their father stopped paying child support without notifying the court, who later on would not look favorably on that. In the meantime, my children and I had no legal addresses or residency. They were in an educational vacuum zone.

Four months later I closed on an even smaller house. This one didn’t have a basement, so my bedroom became a daybed in the living room. The house needed lots of repairs. It was a roof over our heads and a legal address for school, but I don’t think my kids ever called it home. I called it the Money Pit.

Looking back on those years, I recall watching every dime. All of my kids took part time jobs during high school so they could afford things they wanted or needed. Prom clothes, cell phones, sneakers. I found a better-paying job but was still living paycheck to paycheck. Eventually I was back to having two jobs.

The years went on. The layoff of my whole department after 8 years at that “new job” I took. Almost lost the house, terrified to be homeless again. Finally got another full-time job at a huge pay decrease. This job provided a 401K and I did my best to contribute something. The little something then had to be taken out when the crawl space under the house filled with water and I had to have a complete draining and sump pump system installed. I would tell friends they could come visit my newest home improvement under the house.

The years went on. A new car, and car payment. A new roof, a huge dead tree, fixing the kitchen, fixing the bathroom – no luxuries, just basic home maintenance.  Age 60 passed. Age 65 passed, and I started to get social security. I continued to work the full-time job as well as freelancing. For the first time in my life, I did not feel like I was living paycheck to paycheck. Had some vacation time at the Jersey Shore. Visited my adult children who now lived very far away. Built a porch on the back of the tiny house with the understanding that, it is actually home to me, after 27 years of denying it.

At no time have I ever consider being able to fully retire. I still have a mortgage and property taxes to pay.  I dreamed that my freelance work would grow enough that I could at least leave the full-time job. Right now, it looks like I need to sunset that freelance work and get rid of all the books, paperwork, and paraphernalia. I need to empty my house via garage sales and donations. Age 70 is months away. Reality is HERE. There is no more time left for dreaming of “someday” leisure. It ain’t gonna happen.

 Image by jodeng from Pixabay

 

 Thoughts Along The Sunset Road

I’ve done it. Finished another personal project and sent it out into the world. I have great satisfaction in seeing it through. Yet, there is a nagging part of my brain that is getting louder and louder. The realistic part that lays out my years of creative work and how it really hasn’t amounted to much – just a combination of dreaming and ego-stroking. And yes, I have felt pleasure and a sense of accomplishment. However, as I see the sun setting over my road, there is a certain reality that cannot be ignored.

In 2010 I started on a path that was fueled by the discovery of the importance of laughter. Over that summer I attended 3 events that lit a creative fire in my brain. I threw myself into it, eager to share what I had found out. There was fun and there was joy. However, trying to elevate the work into a profession was hit or miss. Numerous unpaid presentations were offered to me. In my eagerness to please I ended up spending money on signage, giveaways and travel. I spent additional money attending expensive conferences and taking tables at local events – both promoting my laughter programs and selling books. Well, the books were for sale. Few sold. I can’t remember anyone booking a program from these efforts either, although, through intense efforts, I have a handful of paid presentations every year, and a few probono events.

Meanwhile, other creative efforts surfaced. There is my digital art photography – some of it award winning. A few sold.  However, I have probably spent hundreds, maybe even thousands, to support my “creative endeavors,” including publishing my own books. All have given me satisfaction and a sense of pride. None have paid the bills.

It may be possible that the speaking pinnacle was achieved with a Keynote Speakership in 2022, and I am now heading down the other side of the mountain, my backpack full of creative tchotchkes.

Originally, the dream was, this “business” would allow me to retire from full-time work, providing enough income to supplement social security and savings. As I approach my 70^th birthday some of that wisdom that comes with age is bearing fruit. If I died tomorrow, what would be done with all these mostly useless piles of unsold artwork and books, as well as the truckload of research materials, posters and promotional materials? Who would ever be interested in my multiple terabyte drives full of PowerPoint presentations, handout materials and websites? I've had a fun run with this stuff, but unlike my distant cousin, Ray Bradbury, no one is going to take everything from my office and rebuild it in a museum. And with my children scattered in various parts of the country, with families and creative interests of their own, there is not going to be a sentimental family gathering to divide up Mom's "stuff," especially all the things in what I call my writing office.

I am now contemplating the idea of bowing out on my own terms rather than letting illness, senility or death decide how the story ends. A garage sale, a shredder and a dumpster are going to be my best friends.  Maybe I'll have a big bonfire on my 70^th birthday.  Stay tuned. 

 

"What Gets You Out of Bed in the Morning?" Renewal, Revision, Reinvention:

Press Release for "What Gets You Out of Bed in the Morning?" by Noreen Braman

 

 

 

PRESS RELEASE

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

CONTACT: Noreen Braman, CLWI

732-874-2845

 

 

“What Gets You Out of Bed in the Morning?

Local Speaker and Author Releases Handbook for Finding Purpose

 

(Jamesburg, NJ) September 1, 2024 – Noreen Braman, an author from Jamesburg New Jersey, who grew up in East Brunswick, announces the release of her newest book, “What Gets You Out of Bed in the Morning?” a handbook and self-contained independent study for discovering, or rediscovering, your personal mission and vision.

Braman is an Instructor at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at Rutgers University, providing well-being subjects for participants aged 50 and older. She learned that many participants were taking classes at OLLI-RU to experience new things, return to interests previously left behind and for some, attain some skill or knowledge about maintaining meaning in life.

“No matter what our stage of life, from being a young career striver through retirement years, we face life changes, some of them coming about without your choice or control. Especially, the journey through midlife and beyond can be an unsettling time. For some, the intense career striving has cooled, or the twists and turns of life may have led to a very different place than originally planned. Feeling adrift may lead to depression, during a time most expect to be flourishing. As parts of life slow down and change, it creates the perfect opportunity to re-examine one’s sense of meaning and purpose, to create fresh vision for the road that lies ahead,” Braman writes in her book.

She also notes that the title of this handbook takes inspiration from the Japanese word “ikigai,” which is sometimes loosely translated as “a reason to get out of bed in the morning.” The cover of the book reflects a humorous depiction of a stick figure jumping out of bed into the light of a smiling sun. As a Certified Laughter Wellness Instructor, and a Chief Well-Being Officer candidate, Braman uses an encouraging lighthearted touch all through the book.

Previous work by Braman includes “Treading Water – The Pandemic Edition” and “A Bouquet of Roses.” Other work can be found on Medium.com, 30seconds.com, and smilesideoflife.com. She is a contributing author to the recent book, “UNSHELTERED-None of Us Are Home Until All of Us Are Home (Unsheltered Book Series).”

Braman’s books are available at Amazon,  Everand, Lulu, and others.

For more information or interviews, Noreen Braman can be reached at info@njlaughter.com or 732-874-2845. Please leave a message if no answer. The website for both Braman’s books and Well-Being services, go to: www.njlaughter.com.