Awareness

3 weeks ago today, I lost my dad, Christopher Snyder, to a brain aneurysm. He was 51 years old. Within a matter of hours, from the time my stepmom called to tell me he had collapsed to the time she called to tell me he had passed, my life turned completely upside down. 

What has been the hardest to deal with so far is not the fact that I have lost my father (as I think I am still in shock) but the way people have reacted to this event. 

Death, like birth is an intimate thing. It brings out emotions that not everyone is comfortable exposing. There is a vulnerability there that people are not used to feeling or facing. It’s because of that people have such a hard time reacting to death and grief. I have experienced kindness and sympathy from complete strangers and on the other hand I have experienced an utter lack of concern from people whom I thought should care the most.

When my parents divorced, 21 some years ago mind you, my dad was not someone you would nominate for father of the year. He didn’t pay child support, he didn’t send birthday cards. It took a long time for him to come around and realize what he was missing. He met an amazing woman who I am lucky enough to call my stepmom, and his life started to change. My brother and I went out to visit, and he came to see us. He was at my graduation and he walked me down the aisle at my wedding. We went on a family vacation together and we talked regularly about when we would see each other next. He turned into a real father. Better late than never I say. My father was not perfect, but he was always my father.

When word spread about his passing, some of my family reacted in a way I perceived as odd. They called with their initial condolences and a few sent cards, but the reaction was quite subdued in what I actually expected. Keep in mind; I have only one aunt on my dad’s side. I have grown up and been raised exclusively with my mom’s side of the family. I expected more. When my grandfather passed away 2 years ago, the outpouring of grief was tremendous. People came out of the woodwork to comfort my family. I couldn’t quite grasp why many people were so blasé about my father’s passing. Then I went to California for his funeral.

My father lived in California for 17 years. He had an extensive group of friends there, most of whom considered him like a brother. The outpouring of support was incomprehensible.  My brother and I were submersed in love and support from people whom we had only met a couple of times at most. They lifted us up and reminded us what a great man our dad had turned out to be. They let us know that they would not forget our father and they would not let us forget. 

What I started to understand though all of this is that when someone dies, we should not dwell on the person that passed, we should support those that have to go through the loss. And this is why my family and others had such a strange reaction to my father’s death. To them the man that died was the one who divorced my mom, the one who didn’t pay child support, the one who wasn’t there on our first day of school. Instead of focusing on the loss and heartache my brother and I felt, they were focused on the memory of the deadbeat dad that died. 

I am hoping that something can be learned through all this. I am hoping that by writing this and by talking about things that we can open our eyes. Death is a part of life. It is not up to us to judge the person who passed, it us up to us to help the survivors deal with their loss. My stepmom lost her husband, the love of her life. While she should be grieving for herself, she instead texts and calls to make sure my brother and I are ok. My mom lost the father of her children, a man she used to be in love with, again, she should be grieving for her loss; instead she spends hours on the phone with me making sure my heart isn’t hurting too much when I turn off the light that night.

 It’s time for us to look at the bigger picture. This world would not turn with utter selfishness. This world functions on the kindness of others. It’s when we can stop being selfish and start being a part of something bigger, that we will really realize what life is all about. I hope that in my life I can be the ideal version of that type of person. I believe it takes practice and that no one is perfect, but awareness is the first step.

In Memory

For those of you who do not know, my father Christopher L. Snyder, passed away unexpectedly last Monday, April 4th. My brother and I both delivered the eulogy at his service. Below is what I wrote. I think it honored him perfectly.

There are certain people who are put on this earth to touch others lives. They do so in such a subtle way that often times we don’t realize what we had until it is gone. This was my father.

My dad with a heart the size of Texas and a bad accent to match. His outrageous stories could make people double over in laughter and the kindness of his actions would leave you smiling for days.

My dad lived his life with vivaciousness. He wasn’t one to let the day slip by without squeezing out some of its goodness. Whether he was cheering for his awful Dallas Cowboys, who by the way were SPANKED this year by my Super Bowl Champ Green Bay Packers,or sitting on Captain Casey’s boat enjoying the sunshine and beer, he made the most of his life. And for that I am thankful.

I am thankful that I had the opportunity to learn such an important life lesson from someone I am lucky enough to call my father. I am thankful for the precious time I had with him.

I am thankful that he chose to share his life with a woman as amazing as Rebecca and I am even MORE thankful that he was smart enough to marry her and never let her go. I love you Rebecca.

I am thankful for the smile and dimples he passed on to my handsome brother.

I am thankful for the wonderful friends he has here. Our California family.

My dad’s passing was sudden and unexplained, but I know he would not want us to focus on our loss. When I spoke with Rebecca last week in the midst of all this chaos, I asked her if my dad had a directive. She laughed and said “Are you kidding Jacqueline, this is your father. He told me when he dies he wants me to drive him out to the desert and when I find a good place roll his body into a ditch. And when I get back into town throw a party”

Thank goodness Rebecca is classy enough to ignore the first part of that request.

I want to celebrate my dad’s life with all of you. I want to hear his crazy stories told by his best friends. I want to honor him as a father, husband, brother, and great friend -and I know this is what he would want too.

So, thank you dad for living your life and not letting moments pass you by. That’s something I all too often forget to do.

Jimmy Buffett said it best: Let the winds of change blow over my head. I’d rather die while I’m living, than live while I’m dead.

The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

I was on my 156^th “first date” last week. Ten minutes after this guy sat down, I knew it wasn’t going to work. He was nice enough, semi-funny and tall – but I wasn’t feeling the sparks. So a drink later we said our goodbyes. He hugged me at the door and said he’d text me. I drove home wondering how I would tell this guy I wasn’t interested. I could say I met someone else, I could say my fish died and I’ll be grieving for a month or two, I could say Joe Mauer finally called and the wedding is BACK ON!… I consulted my faux dating coach, Andy who basically said “be honest”.  So, when date number 156 did text me back to ask me out again, I replied “I had a really nice time with you, and I think you’re a nice person, but I just didn’t feel the chemistry that I’m looking for in a relationship.” His response back… “Well, I guess I should have just tried for a one night stand.” REALLY?! 

Why do we have a problem with honesty? Are we not raised to tell the truth? My parents washed my mouth out with soap if I was caught in a lie. One taste of that Ivory bar and I had learned my lesson. Granted, we all fib. We tell little white lies here or there. We purposely leave things out of the details to make ourselves look better. But, wouldn’t we all be better off if we were just honest with each other? No one likes to be criticized but at the same time, who likes being lied to? I have not once met someone who after finding out the truth said, “I’m so glad I was lied to, it made things so much easier.” Instead we find out we were lied to (and we always find out…) then we are saying “I wish he/she would have just been honest.” 

There are two problems with honesty, someone has to give it and someone has to receive it. The person telling the truth never wants to look like the “bad guy”, so we say “Yeah! Those jeans look great on you” or “I know! The company party IS going to be fun.” The supplier of said fib is simply telling the recipient what they want to hear. In actuality, those jeans were a little too tight and while I enjoy a cocktail or two on someone's dime, I wouldn’t consider spending my off-the-clock hours small talking with co-worker s “fun”.  Jack Nicholson was right, we “can’t handle the truth”. 

We can’t handle the truth because truth is reality, and I don’t mean Jersey Shore reality, I mean nitty-gritty-honest-to-goodness-realness. Americans have such a warped sense of reality right now. People can find their soul mate on The Bachelor, they can shed 150lbs on The Biggest Loser, and they can become the next pop-star on American Idol. We need to turn off our televisions and open our eyes to what’s really going on. The divorce rate in America is over 50%, we are a nation with a fast-food consumption problem, and for a while people thought William Hung should have been the American Idol. I’m not saying we all need to become pessimists and look for the gloom and doom of the world, but it is time for a reality check.  So, perhaps instead of keeping our heads in the clouds we need to take off our fake designer sunglasses and put one foot back on the ground. It’s time to be honest with ourselves.

Falling

Generally speaking, falling is never a good thing. Falling from grace, falling off the wagon, falling up the stairs, these are not things normal individuals aspire to achieve. This had me wondering why so many people are hoping to “fall” in love, and how maybe my reservations in doing so are quite justified. 

Let’s start by looking at the word “fall”. Mr. Webster says that “fall” means to descend freely by the force of gravity, to hang freely, to drop oneself to a lower position, to leave an erect position suddenly and involuntarily. Is it just me, or do none of these definitions sound appealing? 

So why are we – especially it seems women in my age group- so anxious to fall? It’s freakin scary! Personally when I think of falling, I picture myself tripping off a curb or slipping on ice and landing on my ass. I can’t say that I’ve ever wanted to fall. The thing that sucks about falling is landing. I’ve never had an unexpected fall that has ended pleasantly. I’ve never fallen off a curb into the arms of a handsome stranger; I’ve never slipped and fell on ice only to be rescued by a hot EMT. Nope, I'm found on my backside, sporting a lovely bruise and an embarrassed smile. And to be honest, I haven’t been lucky when “falling” in love either; I’ve only ended up with a broken heart and a bruised ego. 

In general, when you leap from a plane or strap yourself into a roller-coaster, you’re not looking forward to the landing; you’re looking forward to the adrenaline rush that accompanies the fall. It’s an intense feeling! Your stomach is in your throat, you’re smiling so hard your face hurts, you’re screaming out in excitement! Doesn’t that sound like more fun than the dull thud you experience when gravity unexpectedly pulls your feet from beneath you? 

I think we’ve got it wrong. No one should want to “fall” in love, because falling implies landing, and when you’re with the right person, you want to feel like your head is in the clouds all the time. Yes, it’s realistic to experience ups and downs, but I think as a general rule, if you’re with the “right” person, you should never hit rock bottom. 

So I’m giving up on falling in love. I think a better term should be float or fly. OK, I am aware that neither of these sounds nearly as dramatic as “falling” in love, but I’m sick of drama anyway, I think it would be absolutely divine to find someone to hold my hand and fly through life with me. Sure we may have to land a few places in between on our journey, but for most of it we’ll be in the sky, side by side like two happy little love birds.  Now I just need to find someone with a really great pair of wings!

Too Fast

Life moves by so fast. This has become ever more apparent as I get older. Mr. Time is sneaky though. When we are young we live a structured lifestyle. As soon as we’re born we start a routine. We are fed at certain time, we nap at a certain time (well, I still kinda do that....). Pretty soon we are going to preschool and kindergarten at a certain time. Then it’s middle school and high school. Everything is so planned out, next comes college and then a “real job”. Sooner then we realize we are thrust into this crazy world. We are expected to date, find someone to marry, have said wedding, pop out a couple kids, put them on a routine, then retire. 

What we aren’t taught is that dating and marring and making babies is not routine, but our society has deemed it a normal part of life. When you start your life in such a structured manner, when is the right time to start the unstructured part?

This is where I get all flustered.  For all of those that really “know” me. You know what a crazy control freak I can be. I’m a list making,date planning, calendar writing, freak of nature! I like things clearly organized and tangible. I like looking at my calendar and seeing things planned out months in advance. I’m not saying this is a bad quality. It’s just becoming harder and harder to do as an adult. 

At 22 I was so eager to start my fairytale life that I overlooked a lot of things about my Prince Charming. After our Royal Divorce I felt like I had wasted a great deal of time. I jumped right back into dating, searching for someone to make up for that lost time. That was NOT the right move. While I did enjoy some of the dating, for the most part it left me feeling bitter, “WHY couldn’t I find the right one?!”

I’m 6 years older now. And I’m taking things much slower. While I’d like to live the picture perfect life like everyone else, it’s clear that I’m not ready for that again. I’m not comfortable moving too fast. I am enjoying time spend alone and with good friends. I like the excitement of dating. And while I do sometimes miss the comfort and normalcy of a steady exclusive relationship, it also makes me a bit anxious. I’m not ready to give up my single apartment or spend 5 out of 7 days with a guy. I like the anticipation and excitement of getting ready for a date. I like missing someone.  And while I hope that eventually one of these lucky gentlemen I have been “dating” moves into relationship status, I’m not stressing about it. I’m keeping my sights focused on next week, not the next five years.

I will know when it’s the right time for me to move into the next stage of my life, when I’m comfortable. Not when I read it in a magazine or see it on TV or hear it from my family. I’m getting out of my own head and listening to my heart. Wish me luck!

Hope for my Holidays

Most of you who know me well know about my latest "mission". I'm affectionately calling it "Operation Hookworm".  I have several auto-immune disorders. It started when I was but a tot with eczema, then came the asthma and allergies, and 4 years ago I was diagnosed with MS. My devoted doctors have literally run out of new treatments for me. One fateful day, while I was discussing the most extreme option I've yet to hear (immuno-suppressant drug therapy) my doctor told me about a story he heard on National Public Radio. A man with several of the same immune issues I have had intentionally infected himself with parasitic hookworm. The results had changed his life.

Here's the theory on how it works: Disease like allergies and asthma, multiple sclerosis, ulcerative colitis,and psoriasis, are almost unknown in developing countries, largely it is now believed, because of helminth (worm) infection. To prevent their destruction by our immune system, helminths have evolved ways to turn our immune systems down. Because of helminth infection our immune systems have evolved to account for their anti-inflammatory effect. Remove helminths, or worms, and their affect on our immune systems, and the result is an out-of-control immune system much more prone to chronic inflammatory reactions, causing allergies, asthma, Crohn's disease, multiple sclerosis, etc., etc., etc.

After getting more and more information on this, one thing was clear, I wanted some worms! Unfortunately hookworm and most other parasitic worms have been eradicated and are illegal to have in the United States. The only way to get them, is to travel out of the country. Additionally, as you can guess, since this is NOT a treatment that is approved by the FDA it is not covered by insurance.  While it's supposed to last for up to 7 years, the inoculation alone is over $3000. And that doesn't include the price of travel. Since I never made it big in Hollywood, I didn't have the funds to cover this. That's when my brilliant mom decided to do something about it. We decided to do a fundraiser. And here's the reason I'm blogging today.

 My entire life I have tried to hide my medical problems from everyone  It's been a sort of defense mechanism. It seems as soon as people really discover how "sick" I am, our relationships change. I've lost friends, boyfriends, and worst of all, a husband because of my illnesses. It's easy to understand why I like to try to keep my issues under wraps. I don't like pity and I do not like being viewed as weak. But I am not a normal person.

I deal with things every single day of my life that other people will never comprehend. I have to watch what I eat in the case there is something i'm allergic to in my food. I can't randomly drop by a friend's house if they have a cat. I have to take pills at night to help me sleep, otherwise my skin itches so bad I'm up all night scratching. Every one of my shirts I sleep in at night has blood stains on it from itching. My MS has caused extreme fatigue issues. I can nap for 4 hours straight and still go to bed at a normal time. I have to make sure I'm not exposed to cold for too long or I get hives and my asthma flares. I can't be exposed to too much heat either, or my MS will react. I wear long sleeved shirts in the summer to cover up my patches of eczema, and you'll NEVER see me in shorts because the skin on my legs is usually horrible. It is literally exhausting to be me for a day. But, these are the things I never tell people. When they find out, I suddenly become the "freak" or the "weird one". I'm not treated the same and I can feel the pity. I hate it.

Because of all the negativity and discouraging reactions I've experienced regarding my health problems, I've taken a cynical view of the world. People look away with disgust when they see my eczema. They stare at me when I pull out my inhaler to take a puff. I'm always feeling like I'm being judged. Now here I am, exposing myself to a world of strangers, asking them to help me. It's been a very overwhelming experience.

When my mom and I started this fundraiser people began asking more questions about my health. I made fliers outlining my illnesses and the treatment I was seeking.  People began taking the fliers and word started to spread. The outpouring and generosity of complete strangers has touched my life in a way that I cannot describe. These people are not looking at me as the sickly, diseased girl I often see in my mirror. They are looking at me with hopeful eyes. They see the girl I cannot see. The healthy one with a big future ahead of her

These people want to pick me up and help me fly. They aren't looking to hold me down and point out my flaws. The imperfections I see in myself have made me realize just how fortunate I am. Because I have the health issues I have, and because of this support (mostly from complete strangers) I see a new window in my life. It's being held open with the graciousness and goodness of people who simply want the best for someone else.

So it seems this Christmas I've discovered just how good the world can be. I can see that we are put here to help each other, to find the good in one another and to give hope to those less fortunate. Even if this treatment is unsuccessful, I will be grateful for the experiences I've had. And though some of them have been rather tough, I wouldn't go back or change anything. I am who I am today because of what I've gone through thus far in my life. And because of the simple kindness of others, I am now looking forward to what the future holds for me. I have the courage to be less ashamed of my afflictions and I can see life now as hopeful and bright not dark and dim as I've viewed it for so many years. Thank you doesn't seem to be enough to say, but it's a start. So thank you to everyone who's cheered me on and held me up. I love you all and you have literally changed my life!

Merry Christmas

Tis the Season...

It's hard for me to remember exactly when "The Holidays" started to become less magical and more hassle-full for me. For the past several years, it seems the months of November and December have been full of headaches and heartaches for me. Last year, the guy who I was certain was "the one" broke up with me right after Thanksgiving. The year before that was my first Christmas divorced. The year before that, in November, my then husband told me he wanted a divorce, and the year before that (my icing on this sorrow cake) was when I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.One year I even ended up in the hospital Christmas night after an asthma attack.  It seems as though I am setting up for the let down.

I think when you are a twenty-something single adult with no children, its easier to view the holidays with pessimistic eyes. I lay in bed days before Christmas trying to think of everything I need to pack to take home. I'm calculating how long a drive it will be with traffic. I'm wondering how many different houses I'll have to visit. How many relatives I don't even like, that I'll have to fake nice to. I wonder how many times I'll hear "How are you feeling?" or "I heard you had a tough fall, how's your asthma?" I'm wondering how many desserts I won't be able to eat, because someone forgot about my allergies to peanuts. I'm wondering how hard it will be to stand in the same house that for so many years held the loud boisterous belly laugh of my grandfather, to now only hear his echos. 

Hollywood and Hallmark have turned the holidays into something surreal. No one without a mini Martha Stewart in the kitchen can pull a perfectly browned Turkey out of the oven, carry it into the formal dining room (while wearing patent leather high heels and a hand sewn apron of course) and serve an extended family of 20. My mom is phenomenal cook. She has served an extended family of about 20 on several occasions, but there always seems to be some sort of mini crisis 10 minutes before the guests arrive. Last year, our entire family was sick and my poor mom had to cook and do everything herself. The year before that she made a fabulous turkey dinner with all the trimmings only to forget the mashed potatoes at the last minute. It was a mad dash to peel, cut, boil and mash those suckers!  She is always up Christmas eve finishing wrapping presents and is busting her ass in the kitchen Christmas morning trying to make sure whatever dish she's bringing to dinner later is perfect.

Aren't we kinda missing the point? Thanksgiving and Christmas aren't supposed to be about creating picture perfect memories. They're about creating lasting memories with the ones you love. When I think back to all the holidays I've spent with my family, I never think "...and MAN what a great turkey we had" No, I think about my grandpa "teaching" my cousins how to play basketball in the living room. I think about my grandma telling us the story (for the millionth year in a row) about where she got the silver aluminum Christmas tree she keeps on the porch. I think of all the grand-kids bundling up to go snowmobiling in the field. I think of my mom and aunts laughing at the same exact moment the same exact way, when someone says something funny. I think about red and green Hershey kisses in the candy dish. I think about my brother and I telling each other what we bought one another, because we simply can't wait another 24 hours. I think of our tradition of watching the Grinch on Christmas eve, and breakfast casserole and cranberry orange bread on Christmas morning.

We're all getting older and our lives are changing. We lose ones we loved dearly and at the same time, welcome new faces either by marriage or birth. Families get bigger and there are more places to visit and more relatives to see. Maybe it's time we stop trying to make every holiday season something spectacular and just enjoy the fact that for a few hours out of our hectic, crazy, drama filled year, we were all able to get together with people we love and care about. We get to share a meal together, and to enjoy the company of one another. To me, that's much more meaningful than a perfectly roasted turkey or a Christmas tree full of gifts.    

So this year I'm making it my personal goal to let go of my bad holidays past and try to embrace the little things that make this time of year special. I think the Grinch put it best himself... "Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more."