Joy with Loss
Dear Readers,
Yesterday I was caught off guard by reading some social media posts about music. I started crying. When they did I reached out to a friend, who held my hand, and they passed. I never know when those feeling of loss pop up.
I know I write about this often, but I find writing helps me not only heal, but to understand the depth of this loss.
For those of you who have not followed me, my cochlear implants make music sound like noise to me. (You can hear what it sounds like, here.)
Even though these feelings of loss linger deep within me, I still found joy.
Walking and taking nature photos, looking for colors, and patterns, has become my music.
I had to look for joy. I had to figure out what else made me happy besides music. Then I had to work to get it. I don't always want to take a walk, but I know I will see some beautiful natural art, and I don't want to miss it!
Close connections with people bring me joy. So I have had to work to call friends for coffee, or fly away to meet new people.
Volunteering brings me joy, helping others and laughing at the same time!
Even meetings bring me joy, because I can hug and support by showing other people a joyful attitude. People in recovery find joy all the time! I see it in real life, and on-line! When I felt I had no joy after the loss of wine, I found real connections as my joy.
Yes, I lost music.
But I found another layer of joy. Sometimes I feel I have more gratitude, empathy and love, because of my hearing loss. I know this is true for my recovery.
I am sharing an poem I wrote after I had my first cochlear implant.
I Sing Red Leaves
There is no music left in my ears,
There are only strange noises,
That come out of the radio,
Like sticks banging and alien songs.
There is no music in my guitar,
Or piano anymore,
They don't speak to me in a
Language I understand.
Some days I cry,
Some days I can accept,
That my music lies somewhere else,
That my songs are of a different color.
Not deaf to all,
I hear music of good things,
I hear the beauty of nature,
I hear the sweet touches from my love.
Not deaf to the songs,
That still sing in my head.
Can I not sing these in gratitude,
To all that I have?
I sing red leaves and blue sky,
I sing love and memories,
Some days I cry,
Some days I say yes.
With Much Love to All Who are Grieving,
Wendy
PS - I am on WordPress now!
Yesterday I was caught off guard by reading some social media posts about music. I started crying. When they did I reached out to a friend, who held my hand, and they passed. I never know when those feeling of loss pop up.
I know I write about this often, but I find writing helps me not only heal, but to understand the depth of this loss.
For those of you who have not followed me, my cochlear implants make music sound like noise to me. (You can hear what it sounds like, here.)
Even though these feelings of loss linger deep within me, I still found joy.
Walking and taking nature photos, looking for colors, and patterns, has become my music.
I had to look for joy. I had to figure out what else made me happy besides music. Then I had to work to get it. I don't always want to take a walk, but I know I will see some beautiful natural art, and I don't want to miss it!
Close connections with people bring me joy. So I have had to work to call friends for coffee, or fly away to meet new people.
Volunteering brings me joy, helping others and laughing at the same time!
Even meetings bring me joy, because I can hug and support by showing other people a joyful attitude. People in recovery find joy all the time! I see it in real life, and on-line! When I felt I had no joy after the loss of wine, I found real connections as my joy.
Yes, I lost music.
But I found another layer of joy. Sometimes I feel I have more gratitude, empathy and love, because of my hearing loss. I know this is true for my recovery.
I am sharing an poem I wrote after I had my first cochlear implant.
I Sing Red Leaves
There is no music left in my ears,
There are only strange noises,
That come out of the radio,
Like sticks banging and alien songs.
There is no music in my guitar,
Or piano anymore,
They don't speak to me in a
Language I understand.
Some days I cry,
Some days I can accept,
That my music lies somewhere else,
That my songs are of a different color.
Not deaf to all,
I hear music of good things,
I hear the beauty of nature,
I hear the sweet touches from my love.
Not deaf to the songs,
That still sing in my head.
Can I not sing these in gratitude,
To all that I have?
I sing red leaves and blue sky,
I sing love and memories,
Some days I cry,
Some days I say yes.
With Much Love to All Who are Grieving,
Wendy
PS - I am on WordPress now!
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