They say you should journal every day

 ... and I have the best intentions to do just that but when I think about putting my pen to paper (journal), I'd rather go on a social media app, a pop culture website or just about anything else. So I'm wondering if unearthing my blog will inspire me to write a bit more. It's certainly faster to get my thoughts out this way.

So, I have been wanting to switch careers but stay in the nonprofit sector FOR YEARS. I just wasn't sure what it looked like. I wasn't interested in being an executive director or CEO but I also did not want to stay in fundraising, I was burnt out. I planned on seriously searching for a new job a month after I graduated. I started putting feelers out, asking for informational interviews with former colleagues, former supervisors, and my greater professional network. I thought about teaching, though I intentionally did not pursue a PhD because I didn't want to teach and research. But I figured why not see. But I continued to only be approached for fundraising positions. 

Then my Sister had her catastrophic stroke. And I could hardly function personally or professionally lives. And then my mom's physical and cognitive health was declining. Again, I felt like I was underwater. I dreaded waking up because I knew it was going to be another day of obstacles. I wasn't suicidal but I surely wasn't joyful. I had been invited to take part in a Women of Color Leadership Fellowship and instead of networking or working out a career plan, I was pouring out my soul and feeling like I was unprofessional because I couldn't stop crying. But it felt like I was dealing with something with my mom just about every day. Whether it was her falling, or forgetting her purse, or not making it to her doctors' appointments. I felt like I was responsible for so much. 

So I stayed. I stayed at the job that felt secure even though it was severely flawed. There was security with being with the devil you knew. I mean, it wasn't awful and it surely wasn't the worst place I had worked at, I just knew that it wasn't challenging me in a good way and I certainly wasn't using the education I obtained. It was a decent enough environment, I was fairly compensated, and the flexibility of a hybrid schedule was probably my most favorite aspect of the job. 

I won't go into details but this job eventually became insecure. The stress of not making the organization's fundraising goals got to leadership and there were poor decisions being made. And even though I should have been "safe", I wasn't and I quickly learned my job was unjustly on the line. I updated my resume and actively applied like it was my second job (it was.) This search was a long five month process, and many interviews, often times with the same organization, they just had a lengthy, multi-interview application process! It came down to two jobs I liked most. One was in fundraising but with a world renown institution and promised to view fundraising in a completely different light than any other organization I'd been part of. And the other was a Chief of Staff role with a small local church doing audacious things in the community. Almost two years after I graduated, I was in a career changing role.

Little things

 I think about my Sister every day. There are also small (and, of course, big) things that really make me wish I could pick up the phone and text or call her. Though we lived in different states and would go up to a week without talking, we were close. We lived big and full lives independent of one another but we told each other just about everything. We knew of each other friends and coworkers, we knew about small annoyances and big challenges. 

It was a small thing that made me think of her yesterday. For the last decade or so, Demondoll has fretted about her hair thinning. I told her I didn't see what she saw but she was certain her scalp was showing more. I'm the one with thicker hair and she was the one with more hair. So we both had our insecurities about volume. The other night, I tried Paul Mitchell's Lemon Sage Thickening Spray and Garnier Fructis Mega Full Thickening Lotion together. And yesterday I had so much volume. I thought to myself, "Oh I wish I could tell her about this. She would love it." And I would have made her try this combination the next time she visited. Normally, my day-old hair would be flatter because I produce a lot of oil. And yet my hair still had volume from this combo and she would have wanted to give it a try even more.

It's silly and insignificant. But we cared about this kind of thing and I wish I could send her these products so they could make her happy and more confident. I wish we she was still here so we could talk about small things. Heaven knows there are big things happening right now that I wish we could discuss. But these small things - they mattered, too. Little sisterly, best friend things you talk about with your sister and best friend.

For the most part, I've loved being the baby of the family

 Being the baby of the family meant that family members doted on you. In their eyes, you're still the baby. While it can be annoying not to be seen as a teenager or young adult, it was nice. I had a good relationship with my parents, especially after becoming a parent myself, and with my siblings. My sister always said they were dirt-poor when she was growing up so I also appreciate that my folks were more established when I came around. I can honestly say I never needed anything. My needs were certainly provided for and most of my wants, too. 

What no one tells you as the baby of the family is that you will most likely be burying everyone. It makes sense but no one talks about it. And while it is dark to think about my parents' passing, I knew that would eventually happen. My parents were always the oldest parents in my class or friend group and that was because I was an "oopsie-daisy-we-can-still-get-pregnant" baby. And my sister is/was 13 years older than me so, to her chagrin, sometimes people mistook her for my mom (we both looked young for our ages so I get why she was put off - she would have been a very very young parent. 

I thought I would have 30+ years with my sister. If I can be completely honest, I naively never thought about my sister passing away. I took it for granted that we would be growing old together. That eventually, our busy schedules would sync up by being less busy and we would visit each other more, maybe even take trips together. I also always thought I'd have her to lean on when things got hard with our folks. And when our dad passed away and our mom just became more like herself (stubborn, hard-headed, but much less independent), I thought we would commiserate, brainstorm and problem-solve. Because this gets more challenging, particularly emotionally.

But I am by myself. And I am overwhelmed. And I am still grieving.

I have a mom who refuses to believe she is too frail to travel but has been hospitalized after both times she has traveled internationally. I have had to pick up the pieces and deal with the consequences of her poor decision-making. People wonder why I can't just put my foot down with her but if you actually knew who she was, you'd know that she was a force. And, for most of her life, it has served her well - her grit and determination. And she's always been the practical one in the family, the one in charge of finances and made the household go 'round. But she's in her 80s, experienced and is experiencing a host of health issues, and lost her husband and her daughter within the past 5 years.

I try to remember this when I'm overwhelmed but it's very hard. Because it's just us three (my brother has high support needs so he's not part of any decisions or expected to help) and I'm also grieving. And I work full-time, am married and have two kids. So my mom's needs affect them too. Though my sister lived two states away, it was a relief to know I had someone if there was an emergency and certainly helpful when needing to vent. Plus she contributed as much as she could like being in charge of our mom's transportation and coordinating that complicated ordeal, week after week.

I'm trying to feel hopeful but I am restless and anxious. And overwhelmed. And grieving.

I don't want to say goodbye

Last Friday, when I flew up to see my sister we had what I've come to dread - the Family meeting. This is when Sister's medical team requests to meet with the family to provide an update on her progress and talk about the next steps of her care. It's never good news. It's never a time to celebrate and high-five each other. But my brother-in-law requested they hold off for a day and have it on Friday so I could attend. I truly appreciated being included though, as I mentioned, I've quickly come to hate these meetings. Unfortunately, the meeting was what I thought it would be. Her medical team asked us what we thought she would want. Because the best outcome they predicted, based on her lack of responsiveness, her tests and scans, was that she would be able to hear and maybe be able to see but she would not be able to process what she was hearing or seeing. 

All our hearts broke again.

We were all holding onto hope that her brain would recover from her strokes and that she just needed more time for the swelling to go down. But it seems there is too much damage from her initial stroke and then all the small ones she had while in the hospital. She had just gone through too much and that is why she was no longer responding to anything but pain. It was decided that her care would change from life-saving to comfort care after close family and friends said their goodbyes. 

We flew our mom up Saturday afternoon to see DD for the first time in the hospital and also to say goodbye. Our mom had recently been in the hospital herself late last June and we didn't want mom to put herself in unnecessary danger. We figured that we would wait until sister moved from ICU to Acute Care and then both would be a bit stronger to see each other. My sister, when still responsive, had held up her hand in a "wait" or "stop" position when we mentioned mom wanted to visit her. Knowing how anxious and worried my sister gets around our mom, it made sense that she made that motion. And her husband, knowing my sister the best, also felt it was the best decision for both of them. Our mom still desperately wanted to visit but without anyone helping her book flights, hotel or transportation, it would have been impossible for her to do it herself. So she waited. 

As expected, it was very difficult for our mom to see DD with a breathing tube, IVs, her head shaved and, most of all, knowing this visit was so she could say goodbye to her daughter. My mom and I went straight to DD from the airport. We stayed just before visiting hours were up. I had booked us a hotel room less than 10 minutes away so we took an Uber there. It was the first time in a long time since I spent the night in a room with our mom. Notorious for being loud, she did her best to be quiet so I could rest. I really appreciated her efforts even though neither of us got much sleep that night.

We joined my brother-in-law in the morning to visit with my Sister again. They were allowing up to four visitors and appreciated that her other visitors wanted to give me and my mom visiting time, along with my sister's husband and son. Whenever one of us needed a break, there was a family member or friend ready to step in. There were also others who visited specifically to say goodbye so we wanted them to have their time with DD, too. And around 2:45 PM, we were allowed to have six of us gathered around as my sister's nurse and respiratory therapist removed her IV and breathing tubes. We all cried and continued to sit around her. My mom and I had to say goodbye in the early evening so we could make our flight home. We hated to leave her.

We had no idea when she would leave us. Her nurse said it may be a day or so. It is now five days later and she is still here. This saddens me greatly because it just goes to show how strong my sister's body is. It's only her brain that isn't allowing her to be with us. But it's the one that matters most - over her heart, lungs, and kidneys. I have cried every day since returning and am thankful to my brother-in-law for his calls and online updates. I can only imagine how hard this has been for him. I know he is grateful for anytime he has left with her but I also know this very long goodbye has to take a toll both physically and mentally. Because he knows that she will eventually go. And I mourn for her now because even though she is still with us, she also isn't. This is the longest I've gone without speaking to her and I'm so so sad that I won't ever get to talk with her again. 

A rollercoaster

 This is the 3rd time I'll be going to Seattle this month. Before my sister's stroke, the last time I was in Seattle was for my nephew's - her son's - high school graduation in 2018. Before then, it was sometime before The Bean's birth so before 2014 because I only had one baby then. Because of my babies and our parents' limited mobility, DD often traveled down to see us. She would come when our parents were sick or if I needed help. Or for holidays, special occasions, or funerals. 

Two days ago, I thought I was going to say goodbye to my sister. It has been a tough 22-now-23 days. Just about every day my brother-in-law calls with updates. And almost every day, it feels like it's one step forward, two steps back. Because I'll hear that she had a good day, a boring day, and we rejoice in the ordinary of it all. Then on other days, we hear find out she had a setback or that she isn't progressing as they'd like. Most recently, a doctor told my B-I-L that they were not confident my sister would wake up. 

In the past 23 days, my heart has broken over and over again. I have imagined the best and I've imagined the worst. The best is her needing major rehabilitation and it's bizarre to think that 23 days ago, that was the worst. One month ago, our mom being in the hospital with pneumonia and the flu was the worst. Two months ago, it was me not knowing what to do with my career. It's incredible how perspectives can change in an instant. 

My husband has been a rock for me. He has tried to alleviate some of the responsibilities I have as a parent (he has an awful commute so I take care of all transportation to and from school and activities for our kids, as well as meals). He's also the one who gently but firmly has made sure I'm taking care of my health since my sister had undiagnosed high blood pressure and diabetes. He also has assured me that I can talk to him about all of this so I don't have to keep it bottled up inside. 

He told me it seems like I'm taking my sister's crisis much harder than my father's death. I loved my dad very much. He was one month shy of turning 82 years old yet it was still a surprise to all of us when he passed. His passing was very quick, less than 24 hours. It was my mom who had been in the hospital for several weeks just before he passed. I told my husband that while I really missed my dad, I also knew that the body he was living in frustrated him. I knew he hated being frail and having to spend so much time getting dialysis. He was frustrated by his physical limitations and didn't like depending on other people to help him. I took comfort in knowing that he was finally free. 

My sister is only 57 years old. Again, perspective is a funny thing. When I was a kid and even a young adult, 57 seemed ancient to me. Now I know there is so much more potential life left, decades in fact. Her son is 22 years old. We didn't talk about it much (I think we didn't want him to feel rushed and, honestly, he IS pretty young) but I know she looked forward to his wedding and him having children. As for me, I was looking forward to the time when I had fewer obligations and could visit her again like I did in my 20s. Visiting her was so peaceful - it's where she taught me how to knit and entertained my interest in going to all the local coffee shops to find the best coffee. And finding places that potentially made the best oatmeal. We would knit and drink tea or coffee and chat. Or take walks. I cherished those times and, just like how I felt about going to Hawaii with my girlfriends, I looked forward to the time when I could make those visits with her again. 

We are never promised tomorrow, I know. But when going through the day-to-day, one can't help but get pulled into the daily routine and think that one day in the future, we can look forward to the things we want to do. And I unwisely assumed that my sister would always be there because she always had been. Since I was born. So her life hanging in the balance is shocking to me. It's something I've never imagined. And it's devastating. I cling to hope and sometimes wish I didn't because when I hear that she may not ever be with us, I am gutted. And this has happened over and over again. But as my B-I-L has written, where this is life, there is hope. And my sister continues to breathe on her own. So I pray throughout the day that she will wake up soon, whole and healthy.

A love letter to my Sister

The two posts before were drafts that I hadn't realized were never published. It's been a long time since I've been here. What brought me back to this little place was seeing my Sister's blogspot on her FB page. Though she hadn't written anything since September 27, 2011, she still had it listed. We both started writing in 2005 and it was just one way for us to keep in touch.

My Sister is fighting to stay with us right now. She had a hemorrhagic stroke almost three weeks ago and our lives have forever changed. At first, I was devasted to hear that she would lose mobility on her right side and possibly her speech, though they said she may be able to gain it back. But in the past three weeks, she has had many ischemic strokes while in ICU, a craniectomy, and other setbacks along the way. Who would've thought that losing mobility and speech would be the best-case scenario?

I turn to this little place because it's where she and I would "talk" through our writings. And I've been praying so much for the past three weeks that maybe this is another form of prayer. 

My Sister is one of the best people I've ever known. She was like a second mom to me when I was growing up. She is 13 years older and gave me the attention and patience that my parents didn't have. They were great parents but they were busy ... and tired. My sister would play with me, braid my hair, take me with her to school, shopping trips, friends' homes, fun outings - she was just a great big sister. I remember having classmates who were jealous of how nice my sister was to me because theirs were mean and made them feel like a pest. Not my sister. She always made me feel loved.

And as I grew up, that never changed. She always encouraged me to visit her and made time for my sporadic calls. My sister came for long visits after I birthed each baby to help and just be there for me. She did the same for our parents when they fell sick, or when our mom wanted to go to the Philippines but didn't want to leave our dad alone. My sister came and kept him company. Even though he resented having what he called a "babysitter", we know he enjoyed her company. Because my sister is sweet and kind. She is so happy making other people happy. She finds joy in bringing joy to others. She's just an incredible human being. That's why I don't understand why she is in a hospital right now. I don't understand why someone so wonderful, kind, and giving is suffering. 

I know miracles can happen and I keep praying for them. But I'm also incredibly sad and frustrated by all the challenges that keep coming her way. The world is a better place with her in it. I am certain of that. The lives she touches are better for her being in it. She and I used to lament how some people couldn't stand how happy we are as individuals. Admittedly, I think I'm saltier than her. A little more jaded, a lot more attitude. My sister can't help but beam sunshine. She's really that good. She has the biggest heart. So I continue to pray that she can pull through. That she can come out whole and healthy. Because I love her so, so much.

Part of August, in a nutshell 8/22/15 9:28 PM

Reunion: Vegas and Zion 8/22/15 9:33 PM

The last time I wrote here, popular social media platforms didn't exist yet.

 It's 2021 and holy crap, a lot has happened. Kids, in a snapshot ...

- mom started her doctoral program in Aug 2019

- Papa passed away in Nov 2019

- Pili passed away in July 2019 (it was an awful year, to be honest)

- Then the world shut down Feb/Mar 2020 because of a global pandemic (some of us thought it was going to last six weeks. It lasted for over a year and is still continuing but we're not completely shut down like we had been).

- Nana had three major non-scheduled surgeries and one scheduled open heart surgery during the pandemic.

- I left a job I loved because the toxicity was overwhelming.

- I started a new job during a pandemic while continuing to work my way through my doctoral program (I planned to potentially start looking upon graduating but life is funny)

- I've deleted social media apps on my phone to help me focus. So of course I resurrect my blog! But I need an outlet for my random thoughts (or daily musings, if you're fancy).