Today's post may be a bit critical, so you've all been forewarned. It may also contain some strong language, so again, you've been forewarned. I'll be writing from my heart (as usual), but it's a heart that is hurting a lot currently and needs a forum to express hardships and pains.
I joked around a lot after Dad's death about writing a guide of "Things NOT to Do for the Grieving." Perhaps this is that, maybe with a less cynical twist. This has been in my head and my heart a lot the last few weeks because, well, I'm having a terrible time dealing currently. I was in a car accident about 5 weeks ago that has put me in quite a lot of pain. We still don't have a car, which has pushed me to the point of exhaustion since I have a million and one places to be in a very structured and short amount of time. So, I'm literally running, biking, and riding the bus to get to where I need to be. Anytime that I had for myself to sit quietly or to pause and take it all in has just flown out the window. Hopefully, a car will come into our lives in the near future because it's been a hell of an ordeal having to respect a schedule that was built around having a car. Oh, and did I mention that I'm having to pop pain pills like there is no tomorrow? I'm treating my back in many different ways, but it takes time, and I'm simply suffering in the meanwhile.
I'm sure the physical pain and the exhaustion are all adding to this already difficult time. I literally felt like I couldn't handle anything more yesterday. I exploded. I screamed, I cried, I threw things. I literally burst into flames because I just couldn't anymore. I felt so alone. I felt so defeated. And I was angry at everyone and everything.
Which brings to me to my main point, my request for those dealing with a grieving friend. This may be my indirect way of also requesting this for myself, because...I, too, am grieving. So:
Please do not forget your friend is grieving. It may be 5 months or half a year since my dad died, but grieving lasts a long time, especially for someone who was my whole fucking world. And grief, while it may have stages, does not cycle through them neatly. It comes all jumbled together. There's anger while being sad while denying that it's all real. There's acceptance mixed with fury mixed with defeat. There's a ripping of your insides that, for me, outweighs the physical pain that I'm in.
So, please don't forget. If you care about someone, just ask them how they are every once in awhile. Maybe this isn't true of everyone, but I'm finding it exceptionally hard to reach out. I don't want to burden anyone with this insanity, but God, I just sometimes need someone to reach out and say, "How are you holding up?"
I'll say it a third time for effect: PLEASE DON'T FORGET about your grieving friend.
On the other side of the same coin, don't treat me like I'm totally debilitated by my grief. I still function, quite well, I might add. So, don't treat me like a poor, pitiful little thing while cooing at me. It's infuriating. I'm not doing okay, true, but I'm making it to work, I'm keeping up with school assignments, and I'm bathing on the regular. Instead, why not say, "Good job. I'm proud of you for all you're still able to do."
One of my dad's best friends came to me at his visitation, and he asked, like many others, "How are you doing?" I couldn't find the words, since I had been lying to everyone all night, and he said, "You're fucking awful, aren't you?" And we both burst into tears and held each other as we cried. It was so real, so authentic, and exactly what I needed to hear. I was fucking awful. I had just lost the most important person in my life, and I was having to somehow be clear-headed, adult-like, and responsible for all the technical shit that comes after someone dies. It was invaluable to me to hear someone recognize my agony in such a truthful way.
Oh, and while we're at it, don't say dumb shit to the grieving. I know that so many professionals, self-help books, websites, whatever say that it's hard to know what to say, and it is. But fuck, people, don't come up to me and start drilling my head about whether the doctors and nurses actually did all they could do to prevent this. Don't say rude stuff about my dad. Think twice or maybe three times before you say something to the grieving. I appreciate those who reached out and continue to reach out, but just don't be stupid. That's all. And if you don't know how to not say something stupid, a simple hug or a smile is enough. A simple, "I'm so sorry for your loss," is also very real and very appropriate.
Grief takes a long time. There is no time frame, and it is different for everyone. Something that warms my heart and makes me profoundly sad all at once are older people, in their 50s and 60s, who lost their parents long ago, but who say that they still miss them and think about them everyday. I want my dad to stay with me like that. I know he will. I know.
Thank you for bearing with me and reading my heated rant. I needed to ventilate, and I hope I was able to help along the way. It's not often that we are real about grief and death and loss. It's so taboo. But, damn, it's the one thing we all have in common - we will one day die, and until we do, we will experience the death of others. So, keep those who are grieving in mind. Lend a helpful hand. Share a personal story of how you dealt with grief. Listen. Be there. It's really that simple.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
The Good with the Bad...and the Bad with the Good
Hello, dear readers.
I find myself sitting on that edge between Memorial Day and Independence Day here in Israel, that time that is so unique to our young country. We go from extreme sadness to extreme happiness within the span of 24 hours.
Today has been filled with memorial ceremonies, people flocking to cemeteries to pay their respects, and of course, the memorial sirens that broke through the air at 8PM last night and again at 11AM this morning.
Last night, I stood solemnly in my living room with my boyfriend and dog, as tears slipped down my face during the siren's wail. Today, I stood outside of a small, neighborhood bakery where Yagel and I had treated ourselves to some baked goods for breakfast. We stood tall, bowed our heads, and allowed ourselves the two minutes to just think, reflect, and to try to understand the weight of this day.
Yagel and I started a very interesting conversation on the walk back home after the siren, about how he grew up with this tradition and how I didn't. In his lifetime, he has heard 75 memorial sirens (1 every year for Holocaust Memorial Day and 2 every year for Israel's Memorial Day), so this is a natural tradition, a siren that he can handle. I, on the other hand, have now heard 9 such sirens, and I am still blown away by the respect that an entire country can show for their fallen.
Not that everyone stopped what they were doing. Yagel was playing with a group of Arab kids in the neighborhood last night, when one said that he would start dancing during the siren (he also threatened to break our dog's legs, if that tells you what kind of a kid he is...Yagel worked with him to get him to pet Tripp, so that somewhat calmed him down). Someone continued driving down the street where we had stopped during this morning's siren. And I saw a video of an Ultra-Orthodox protest in Jerusalem where many religious Jews kept walking, started shouting and holding up signs, and did all they could to break the moment last evening. I don't think any of these instances, however, took away from the meaning and the respect that the majority of the Israeli people showed today and yesterday.
I, personally, balled my eyes out most of the evening and most of today. At one point, I turned on the TV and immediately turned it off, unable to watch more stories of fallen soldiers and terror victims whose families are still broken and scarred after their deaths. It's a feeling that I remember feeling last year, too, as if I was a glass that was about to be overfilled, as if I simply had had enough. My brain yelled, "We get it! We've been torn apart with sadness today - please don't fill the air around you with anymore!" About an hour ago, as evening began to settle in, Yagel and I watched more stories on TV of those lost in this last war, Protective Edge, in the summer of 2014. I cried more - my eyes are puffy and red - and I looked up at him and asked if we could just start having fun already since my heart had been torn into pieces a million times over in the past 24 hours.
For me, it is an interesting question as to why I have cried so much during these Israeli Memorial Days. I'm going to attempt to answer it now, although I'm still not so sure I can put it into words. The first reason, if you know me, is quite obvious - I am a very sensitive person who is very easily effected by the stories/emotions/hardships of others. Second, another fairly obvious reason, is that I am still in the middle of my own hard and heavy grief of losing my dear, dear father. Just typing that almost sent me into tears again.
But the other reasons are less obvious. I chose this country to be my own. I, myself, have gone through two wars in my short time here. And overall, I steadfastly believe in Israel's right to exist and thrive. (This, in no way, means that I do not want us to live and thrive peacefully next to our neighbors, but that, my dear readers, is for another post...or from posts past.) I appreciate each and every soldier who puts on a uniform and serves his or her time in the army. I appreciate each and every Israeli who chooses to serve his or her country through national service instead of the army. I appreciate the other immigrants, who, like me, came here because of desire, beliefs, ideology, and love. I appreciate the vast diversity of this small place, from her landscapes to her people to her beliefs and desires. I respect what has been done in order to keep her safe and to keep the dream alive.
I am, however, in the midst of a huge identity crisis. I think every new immigrant must go through something similar. I am not blind to the problems that exist here. I am not ignorant to the bad decisions that this country has made or will make. But still, somehow, I am able to feel so strongly the pride of being Israeli, the power of being an Israeli hell-bent on change, and the courage that it takes to stay here and to continue being Israeli. I'm not ready to give up on it. And my heart still sores when I sing the Tikva, our national anthem. It's a beautiful identity crisis that not all have the pleasure of challenging themselves with, and I'm thankful for the chance every day.
So, as you can see, these two days that are in such stark contrast with one another yet so strongly connected, bring a little of the good with the bad and a little of the bad with the good.
Now, go out there and celebrate, Am Yisrael! Happy Independence Day!
I find myself sitting on that edge between Memorial Day and Independence Day here in Israel, that time that is so unique to our young country. We go from extreme sadness to extreme happiness within the span of 24 hours.
Today has been filled with memorial ceremonies, people flocking to cemeteries to pay their respects, and of course, the memorial sirens that broke through the air at 8PM last night and again at 11AM this morning.
Last night, I stood solemnly in my living room with my boyfriend and dog, as tears slipped down my face during the siren's wail. Today, I stood outside of a small, neighborhood bakery where Yagel and I had treated ourselves to some baked goods for breakfast. We stood tall, bowed our heads, and allowed ourselves the two minutes to just think, reflect, and to try to understand the weight of this day.
Yagel and I started a very interesting conversation on the walk back home after the siren, about how he grew up with this tradition and how I didn't. In his lifetime, he has heard 75 memorial sirens (1 every year for Holocaust Memorial Day and 2 every year for Israel's Memorial Day), so this is a natural tradition, a siren that he can handle. I, on the other hand, have now heard 9 such sirens, and I am still blown away by the respect that an entire country can show for their fallen.
Not that everyone stopped what they were doing. Yagel was playing with a group of Arab kids in the neighborhood last night, when one said that he would start dancing during the siren (he also threatened to break our dog's legs, if that tells you what kind of a kid he is...Yagel worked with him to get him to pet Tripp, so that somewhat calmed him down). Someone continued driving down the street where we had stopped during this morning's siren. And I saw a video of an Ultra-Orthodox protest in Jerusalem where many religious Jews kept walking, started shouting and holding up signs, and did all they could to break the moment last evening. I don't think any of these instances, however, took away from the meaning and the respect that the majority of the Israeli people showed today and yesterday.
I, personally, balled my eyes out most of the evening and most of today. At one point, I turned on the TV and immediately turned it off, unable to watch more stories of fallen soldiers and terror victims whose families are still broken and scarred after their deaths. It's a feeling that I remember feeling last year, too, as if I was a glass that was about to be overfilled, as if I simply had had enough. My brain yelled, "We get it! We've been torn apart with sadness today - please don't fill the air around you with anymore!" About an hour ago, as evening began to settle in, Yagel and I watched more stories on TV of those lost in this last war, Protective Edge, in the summer of 2014. I cried more - my eyes are puffy and red - and I looked up at him and asked if we could just start having fun already since my heart had been torn into pieces a million times over in the past 24 hours.
For me, it is an interesting question as to why I have cried so much during these Israeli Memorial Days. I'm going to attempt to answer it now, although I'm still not so sure I can put it into words. The first reason, if you know me, is quite obvious - I am a very sensitive person who is very easily effected by the stories/emotions/hardships of others. Second, another fairly obvious reason, is that I am still in the middle of my own hard and heavy grief of losing my dear, dear father. Just typing that almost sent me into tears again.
But the other reasons are less obvious. I chose this country to be my own. I, myself, have gone through two wars in my short time here. And overall, I steadfastly believe in Israel's right to exist and thrive. (This, in no way, means that I do not want us to live and thrive peacefully next to our neighbors, but that, my dear readers, is for another post...or from posts past.) I appreciate each and every soldier who puts on a uniform and serves his or her time in the army. I appreciate each and every Israeli who chooses to serve his or her country through national service instead of the army. I appreciate the other immigrants, who, like me, came here because of desire, beliefs, ideology, and love. I appreciate the vast diversity of this small place, from her landscapes to her people to her beliefs and desires. I respect what has been done in order to keep her safe and to keep the dream alive.
I am, however, in the midst of a huge identity crisis. I think every new immigrant must go through something similar. I am not blind to the problems that exist here. I am not ignorant to the bad decisions that this country has made or will make. But still, somehow, I am able to feel so strongly the pride of being Israeli, the power of being an Israeli hell-bent on change, and the courage that it takes to stay here and to continue being Israeli. I'm not ready to give up on it. And my heart still sores when I sing the Tikva, our national anthem. It's a beautiful identity crisis that not all have the pleasure of challenging themselves with, and I'm thankful for the chance every day.
So, as you can see, these two days that are in such stark contrast with one another yet so strongly connected, bring a little of the good with the bad and a little of the bad with the good.
Now, go out there and celebrate, Am Yisrael! Happy Independence Day!
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Silver Lining
Friends, it has been one hell of a break. And I can't necessarily say that in a good way. Yagel and I were so stoked that we had two weeks off for Passover! Well, I had one week off, since the first week, I still had to work and make it to my internship. But by God, I was so ready for the fun that we had planned from Sunday until now. I needed the escape, the break from the norm. But instead, I got a really big lesson in how to be satisfied with what I have and how to find the good within the bad. Let me explain...
Our grand plan was to get in a day at the beach (possibly two) and to go camping in the lush, green north of Israel in between the days that I was teaching "Dancing in English" for the municipality's "the kids have been in the house too long, and I need a break" program. And I was looking forward to it all, even the teaching, since the kids give me such good energy and feedback. And that's how the break started - I taught on Sunday, and I started reorganizing and cleaning various things around the house, a large part of my To Do for the break. That evening, we went to help some very dear friends move into their new apartment. These are those friends that would do anything to help us (and have done just about anything to help us), and I'm just crazy in love with them and blessed beyond words that they're in my life. So, we go and load up the car and head towards the new apartment. We are in this traffic circle, fairly close to the new place, and we slow down because the car in front of us is waiting for a child to cross on the crosswalk. Sounds logical, right? Well, the guy behind us did not learn this simple rule of logic in driving school/life/whatever, and he slammed into the back of us. Luckily for us, Yagel is a quick reactor, and he engaged the breaks in time to keep us from slamming into the car in front and possibly the child crossing the street.
Now, what happened here is that I felt an immediate headache since my head had slammed into the seat. I also felt that warm pain creeping into my lower back from the injury that I have been treating for almost a year now. And I was pissed. No, no, no, no, no! I have been working SO hard to strengthen my back and to feel better, all for some asshole whose head was and is stuck up his ass to ruin? We pulled over, and I got out of the car and got a little mouthy. And you know what the guy said? (Not "I'm sorry," that's for sure.) He said, "It's all going to be okay." Oh yeah? You, sir, have no idea what you've ruined. Then, the nausea and the dizziness settled in and the pain started throbbing more intensely. I started having trouble speaking in Hebrew, and I got a little confused. So, off to the ER we went.
The ER was a long, obnoxious wait, but it really wasn't so bad. Yagel had to go to a private clinic, since his insurance wouldn't pay for him to go to the ER, so his saint of a brother who came to rescue us dropped my friend and me off at the ER and continued on to the clinic with Yagel. Soon after, our second friend made it to the hospital to be with us, worried sick that she had caused all of this mess by asking us to help them move. So not the case. She brought such good energy with her that I was able to laugh and cut up in spite of it all. Also, a quick text message to my dearest girlfriend here in Israel, and she was also there to put a smile on my face and keep me somewhat focused. Listen, if it's possible to party in the ER, we did. We made friends with others who were waiting, we laughed, we shared stories ("What brings you here tonight?"), and we got through the 5-6 hour wait. And somehow, I survived peeing in a cup in one of the nastiest bathrooms I've ever seen in my life:
Our grand plan was to get in a day at the beach (possibly two) and to go camping in the lush, green north of Israel in between the days that I was teaching "Dancing in English" for the municipality's "the kids have been in the house too long, and I need a break" program. And I was looking forward to it all, even the teaching, since the kids give me such good energy and feedback. And that's how the break started - I taught on Sunday, and I started reorganizing and cleaning various things around the house, a large part of my To Do for the break. That evening, we went to help some very dear friends move into their new apartment. These are those friends that would do anything to help us (and have done just about anything to help us), and I'm just crazy in love with them and blessed beyond words that they're in my life. So, we go and load up the car and head towards the new apartment. We are in this traffic circle, fairly close to the new place, and we slow down because the car in front of us is waiting for a child to cross on the crosswalk. Sounds logical, right? Well, the guy behind us did not learn this simple rule of logic in driving school/life/whatever, and he slammed into the back of us. Luckily for us, Yagel is a quick reactor, and he engaged the breaks in time to keep us from slamming into the car in front and possibly the child crossing the street.
Now, what happened here is that I felt an immediate headache since my head had slammed into the seat. I also felt that warm pain creeping into my lower back from the injury that I have been treating for almost a year now. And I was pissed. No, no, no, no, no! I have been working SO hard to strengthen my back and to feel better, all for some asshole whose head was and is stuck up his ass to ruin? We pulled over, and I got out of the car and got a little mouthy. And you know what the guy said? (Not "I'm sorry," that's for sure.) He said, "It's all going to be okay." Oh yeah? You, sir, have no idea what you've ruined. Then, the nausea and the dizziness settled in and the pain started throbbing more intensely. I started having trouble speaking in Hebrew, and I got a little confused. So, off to the ER we went.
The ER was a long, obnoxious wait, but it really wasn't so bad. Yagel had to go to a private clinic, since his insurance wouldn't pay for him to go to the ER, so his saint of a brother who came to rescue us dropped my friend and me off at the ER and continued on to the clinic with Yagel. Soon after, our second friend made it to the hospital to be with us, worried sick that she had caused all of this mess by asking us to help them move. So not the case. She brought such good energy with her that I was able to laugh and cut up in spite of it all. Also, a quick text message to my dearest girlfriend here in Israel, and she was also there to put a smile on my face and keep me somewhat focused. Listen, if it's possible to party in the ER, we did. We made friends with others who were waiting, we laughed, we shared stories ("What brings you here tonight?"), and we got through the 5-6 hour wait. And somehow, I survived peeing in a cup in one of the nastiest bathrooms I've ever seen in my life:
My fancy bed and pee cup, all compliments of the great State of Israel.
The next few days were a blur of sleeping, trying to be productive (thesis work and house organization, both of which are quite challenging while discombobulated), and pain meds. I taught here and there, but mostly, I grumbled about how wasted my vacation was. Yagel, too. We were car-less, I was in pain, he was worried. It's a crappy way to spend your time off. But, it can also get crappier, which we soon learned.
Yagel, the prince that he is, did basically everything. Cooked, cleaned, took care of me, and took care of the car. He went to pick up the car from the garage on Wednesday morning. We thought that the damage to the car was just to the body, but as he left the garage to come home, he realized that the engine and gears were not working properly, causing the car to sputter and jump like a frog. As he was returning to the garage (he hadn't made it very far), another impatient "no-driving-son-of-a-bitch" (thanks, Dad, for the expression!) rear-ended him, making for two accidents on the same part of the car within 72 hours. Right? I hear all you gasping and saying, "That can't be true!" Well, friends, it is, indeed. Two accidents. Totaled car (we think - we're waiting for the estimator to come tomorrow). And a lot of frustration.
But, here's the grand conclusion to our no-good, very bad break. Although it was not at all what we wanted, and although there are some consequences to what happened (like not having a car and being in pain), we have each other. And we have some really awesome friends. And we did go out a few times, laugh our asses off, and experience a lot of silly things together. We cooked a lot. We grew together. And we rested. We raised some hell, and we watched a lot of our favorite TV show. All things that we can be thankful for, that we can enjoy. This silver lining has put a smile on my face and helped me to feel satisfied with these past two weeks. Studying will get done, thesis work will resume and progress, and we will continue to live and love every day that we have, hopefully with less worries about what did not get done.
As for now, I'm going to have another cup of coffee and go snuggle my man and my dog. And be content with what I have. Until next time...
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Megan Goes to Therapy and Other Short Stories
So, I'm in therapy. It should probably come as no surprise, given what I have gone through over the past...29 years. But it is especially poignant to jump into treatment for the first time after the death of my dear father and in the middle of my Master's degree in clinical social work. It certainly is a necessary adventure to take, and I'm happy to share some of it here with you all. I can't and won't share it all here, only that which I'm comfortable enough to open up about publicly. Hell, I'd open up to just about anyone, but as you will see, I'm working on boundaries, and now, I'm setting one for myself.
My history with therapy is quite long, although I am very used to and comfortable sitting on the "other" side of the treatment room. I even told my therapist when we started, "I'm much more comfortable sitting where you're sitting now, so this is going to be a challenge for me." He grinned, and I was unsure of what to think about him, about the place, about what I was doing. I was not a skeptic about the benefits of therapy. I was skeptical about my ability to dig deep and work on myself, to be challenged, and if I even trusted this guy to facilitate this adventure. Let me tell you, though, I have landed in a very caring, loving place with a beautiful therapeutic dynamic that is already helping. Did I mention that all of this is happening in Hebrew? I'm pushing all boundaries of my comfort, but you know? It's good. It's beautiful. And it's making me even stronger. I think a #wadestrong is appropriate here.
I'm working very hard on setting appropriate boundaries for myself and learning when to say no. For so long, I have been hell-bent on pleasing everyone...except for myself. I've done anything and everything to make others happy, and there are some in my life who deeply deserve this selflessness (here's looking at you, Yagel!), but there are a lot of others along the way who haven't deserved it, and who have abused it. It is a powerful thing to learn how to say "no" basically for the first time. It literally lifts weight off of your chest - you feel freer. It's such a simple and such a smart thing that I have to ask why I didn't do it earlier. But, if we're going there, I can also ask why did I stay in an abusive relationship for four years too long, why are my neighbors' kids assholes, and why on earth is s/he wearing that? My point is, it's a question that won't get me vary far, as it's not something I can change. Israelis love saying this phrase, and it's appropriate here, "What was was was was." (And I have to teach this language?!)
With this inability to say no and to know my boundaries, I have also deeply wounded my self-worth. Ninety percent of the time, I can tell you just how much of a badass I am. That other ten percent that catches me off guard and finds me at my lowest, however, is painful. Very painful. And it's usually influenced by the actions, behavior, and words of others. Why I have given people that power, again is a question from that list of "Best not to ask..." The main thing is that I'm working on it. And fuck, it's hard. But now that I'm aware of it, I am much more in control of me, Megan, the one that matters in this equation.
All of this is greatly affecting the therapy which I am giving. I've fallen into the most amazing place of internship, a center that works with the families of those struggling with a mental illness. I'm blessed with a supervisor who believes in me, pushes me, and loves me enough to help me build myself as a pretty great therapist. Hell, she's the one who told me to get my tail to therapy. I couldn't be luckier or more grateful.
Let's add to that that I am taking a class on art therapy that has a practical component - second year Master's students of art therapy must lead the students in art therapy sessions. And damn, am I bringing it! Opening up, sharing, laying myself out through different art mediums. It's as if someone just knew that I needed this experience of being the client and not the therapist, because I'm getting it from so many different sources. And you know what? It's invaluable. It's invaluable to me on a personal level. It's invaluable to me on a professional, social, cultural, religious, relationship level. It's simply invaluable. I'm just a thankful human being. I've been given many truly spectacular opportunities...and I've given myself many spectacular opportunities.
Just this week, I was able to hold my head high during a conversation with someone, saying, "You know what, I am a good therapist." And this wasn't to one of my close friends - they already know. It was something that I would typically think sounded so snobby and arrogant. But it didn't. It was real. And it was amazing to hear it escape from my mouth, full-volume, maximum confidence. I hope that any of you who find yourself on a similar journey find the strength to continue forward with it. Reach out. Get help. Share of yourself with someone in a constructive, safe way. And reap the benefits.
All my love,
Megan
My history with therapy is quite long, although I am very used to and comfortable sitting on the "other" side of the treatment room. I even told my therapist when we started, "I'm much more comfortable sitting where you're sitting now, so this is going to be a challenge for me." He grinned, and I was unsure of what to think about him, about the place, about what I was doing. I was not a skeptic about the benefits of therapy. I was skeptical about my ability to dig deep and work on myself, to be challenged, and if I even trusted this guy to facilitate this adventure. Let me tell you, though, I have landed in a very caring, loving place with a beautiful therapeutic dynamic that is already helping. Did I mention that all of this is happening in Hebrew? I'm pushing all boundaries of my comfort, but you know? It's good. It's beautiful. And it's making me even stronger. I think a #wadestrong is appropriate here.
I'm working very hard on setting appropriate boundaries for myself and learning when to say no. For so long, I have been hell-bent on pleasing everyone...except for myself. I've done anything and everything to make others happy, and there are some in my life who deeply deserve this selflessness (here's looking at you, Yagel!), but there are a lot of others along the way who haven't deserved it, and who have abused it. It is a powerful thing to learn how to say "no" basically for the first time. It literally lifts weight off of your chest - you feel freer. It's such a simple and such a smart thing that I have to ask why I didn't do it earlier. But, if we're going there, I can also ask why did I stay in an abusive relationship for four years too long, why are my neighbors' kids assholes, and why on earth is s/he wearing that? My point is, it's a question that won't get me vary far, as it's not something I can change. Israelis love saying this phrase, and it's appropriate here, "What was was was was." (And I have to teach this language?!)
With this inability to say no and to know my boundaries, I have also deeply wounded my self-worth. Ninety percent of the time, I can tell you just how much of a badass I am. That other ten percent that catches me off guard and finds me at my lowest, however, is painful. Very painful. And it's usually influenced by the actions, behavior, and words of others. Why I have given people that power, again is a question from that list of "Best not to ask..." The main thing is that I'm working on it. And fuck, it's hard. But now that I'm aware of it, I am much more in control of me, Megan, the one that matters in this equation.
All of this is greatly affecting the therapy which I am giving. I've fallen into the most amazing place of internship, a center that works with the families of those struggling with a mental illness. I'm blessed with a supervisor who believes in me, pushes me, and loves me enough to help me build myself as a pretty great therapist. Hell, she's the one who told me to get my tail to therapy. I couldn't be luckier or more grateful.
Let's add to that that I am taking a class on art therapy that has a practical component - second year Master's students of art therapy must lead the students in art therapy sessions. And damn, am I bringing it! Opening up, sharing, laying myself out through different art mediums. It's as if someone just knew that I needed this experience of being the client and not the therapist, because I'm getting it from so many different sources. And you know what? It's invaluable. It's invaluable to me on a personal level. It's invaluable to me on a professional, social, cultural, religious, relationship level. It's simply invaluable. I'm just a thankful human being. I've been given many truly spectacular opportunities...and I've given myself many spectacular opportunities.
Just this week, I was able to hold my head high during a conversation with someone, saying, "You know what, I am a good therapist." And this wasn't to one of my close friends - they already know. It was something that I would typically think sounded so snobby and arrogant. But it didn't. It was real. And it was amazing to hear it escape from my mouth, full-volume, maximum confidence. I hope that any of you who find yourself on a similar journey find the strength to continue forward with it. Reach out. Get help. Share of yourself with someone in a constructive, safe way. And reap the benefits.
All my love,
Megan
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Beautiful Spring...and Election Fever
I just walked outside, this beautiful Sunday afternoon. If I had squinted my eyes enough, I would've sworn I was back in my front yard with the beautiful tiny, white flowers that signal spring has sprung. But then I felt the welcomed desert wind sweep across my body, and I remembered that I'm in my adopted, crazy, fun new home.
And with that in mind, I have quite a bit to update readers on!
This post, I'll focus on the Israeli elections that happened March 17th. It's possible that this is simply the first time that I have felt calm enough to write about them. And with the disappointing results, it's not as easy to find news stories in English on the topic of coalition building and where this next Netanyahu government will go. English news, is in fact, obsessed with what is going on with the Iran deal and the hustle and bustle leading up to Passover (which begins Friday evening). I will still attempt to add some insight and explanation to what has happened on the Israeli political scene.
Just a very quick run down of how elections and the government in general work here. The Israeli legislative branch, called the Knesset, is made up of many different parties that represent a wide spectrum of interests in Israeli society. When elections roll around, we Israelis must vote for a party, and the head of the party who receives the most votes will most likely be appointed as Israeli's prime minister. This is up to the Israeli president (who is Reuben Rivlin as of last summer) - s/he appoints the party head who seems most likely to be able to build a coalition of parties that will make up a majority in the Knesset (61+ seats, as there are 120 available seats in the Knesset). That party head must then dive into negotiations with the parties whom s/he is courting, bargaining about things like the budget, which ministry positions each party will receive (like who will be Housing Minister and so on), and which committees the party can control. This is currently where we are right now...kind of just waiting to see what sort of a deal will be reached. It's so funny because last elections, I felt like there was SO much coverage on the elections...who was requesting what in order to be in the coalition, the DEADLINE for the building of the coalition. This time around, I don't feel that sense of urgency or need to know. Maybe everyone is just ready for more of the same? Blah.
Netanyahu and his right wing Likud party won the most Knesset seats (30 total), and so he has been charged with forming the coalition. There was a huge movement from the left these elections, trying to muster enough votes to put the left in the coalition. And it seemed promising. The left in Israel is (and this is very general) more focused on societal welfare, taking care of citizens with public services, and finding a solution for peace with the Palestinians (again, among other things). The right is very much about security, strengthening Israel's borders, and is not the most friendly when it comes to peace negotiations. Anyway, to the dismay of many, the left did not pull out a win, although the left's voice was pretty significant.
It will be interesting to see what happens, what changes. For now, I'm not as depressed and hopeless as I was. The night of the elections, I literally felt, "If the left doesn't get this, I've got to find another place to live." But, I'm over that. I'm not at all happy with the elections. I'm not happy with Netanyahu. His policies have caused housing and food prices to skyrocket while education and minority issues have just gone down the toilet. He's also taken a nice, steaming dump on diplomatic relations with America, which puts me on edge a bit. But...I'm still here. Even though he's not who I want to be running this precious country, I will deal with it. And I will keep fighting the good fight - for the minorities in this country, for the rights of every human being, good health care and strong education. Better situations and rights for workers. Equal share of the burden among all of Israel's citizens. The list could go on.
Please, leave questions in the comments. I'd love to discuss this more in depth and see what more I can share with you, my lovely audience! Looking forward to hearing from you!
Happy Passover!
And with that in mind, I have quite a bit to update readers on!
This post, I'll focus on the Israeli elections that happened March 17th. It's possible that this is simply the first time that I have felt calm enough to write about them. And with the disappointing results, it's not as easy to find news stories in English on the topic of coalition building and where this next Netanyahu government will go. English news, is in fact, obsessed with what is going on with the Iran deal and the hustle and bustle leading up to Passover (which begins Friday evening). I will still attempt to add some insight and explanation to what has happened on the Israeli political scene.
Just a very quick run down of how elections and the government in general work here. The Israeli legislative branch, called the Knesset, is made up of many different parties that represent a wide spectrum of interests in Israeli society. When elections roll around, we Israelis must vote for a party, and the head of the party who receives the most votes will most likely be appointed as Israeli's prime minister. This is up to the Israeli president (who is Reuben Rivlin as of last summer) - s/he appoints the party head who seems most likely to be able to build a coalition of parties that will make up a majority in the Knesset (61+ seats, as there are 120 available seats in the Knesset). That party head must then dive into negotiations with the parties whom s/he is courting, bargaining about things like the budget, which ministry positions each party will receive (like who will be Housing Minister and so on), and which committees the party can control. This is currently where we are right now...kind of just waiting to see what sort of a deal will be reached. It's so funny because last elections, I felt like there was SO much coverage on the elections...who was requesting what in order to be in the coalition, the DEADLINE for the building of the coalition. This time around, I don't feel that sense of urgency or need to know. Maybe everyone is just ready for more of the same? Blah.
Netanyahu and his right wing Likud party won the most Knesset seats (30 total), and so he has been charged with forming the coalition. There was a huge movement from the left these elections, trying to muster enough votes to put the left in the coalition. And it seemed promising. The left in Israel is (and this is very general) more focused on societal welfare, taking care of citizens with public services, and finding a solution for peace with the Palestinians (again, among other things). The right is very much about security, strengthening Israel's borders, and is not the most friendly when it comes to peace negotiations. Anyway, to the dismay of many, the left did not pull out a win, although the left's voice was pretty significant.
It will be interesting to see what happens, what changes. For now, I'm not as depressed and hopeless as I was. The night of the elections, I literally felt, "If the left doesn't get this, I've got to find another place to live." But, I'm over that. I'm not at all happy with the elections. I'm not happy with Netanyahu. His policies have caused housing and food prices to skyrocket while education and minority issues have just gone down the toilet. He's also taken a nice, steaming dump on diplomatic relations with America, which puts me on edge a bit. But...I'm still here. Even though he's not who I want to be running this precious country, I will deal with it. And I will keep fighting the good fight - for the minorities in this country, for the rights of every human being, good health care and strong education. Better situations and rights for workers. Equal share of the burden among all of Israel's citizens. The list could go on.
Please, leave questions in the comments. I'd love to discuss this more in depth and see what more I can share with you, my lovely audience! Looking forward to hearing from you!
Happy Passover!
Monday, February 16, 2015
It Hasn't Even Been Two Months...
I really wish I could write you all a happy, up-beat post about how things are going just swimmingly. I mean, well, they are going well. But...they aren't. Nothing is the same now, and it is so hard to wrap my head around that fact. Why can't things just be the same? But, my father's death has colored everything...mostly for the better. I so appreciate the relationships that I have in my life. I don't let myself get bogged down by bullshit. Family is much more central in my life. But then I remember WHY those things are so much more centered and balanced, and I just crumble to pieces.
It's like a lightening bolt when I remember that he is gone. My brain plays back the highlights reel of losing him, and I'm shocked all over again. It doesn't happen all the time, and when you're a semi-trained, aspiring clinician like myself, you start worrying if this grieving is passing over into depression. But then you remind yourself that you've never grieved like this...you've never lost like this...and so, you don't really know what is appropriate. Or how to do it. How to deal. There really isn't a handbook on how this is supposed to be (and if there is, would I really trust it?).
Everything is splitting into this convenient dichotomy. A little bit of bad with the good. A little bit of good with the bad. Time flying by/time standing still. Which is evidenced by the title of this post. My dear daddy hasn't even been gone two months, but it feels like an eternity has passed. Yet, I feel that just yesterday, I was talking to him about life and listening to that big booming laughter as I told him about my antics.
I don't wish the pain that I am experiencing on even my worst enemy. Grief...the great uniter that no one can escape.
I do have the best friends and family ever. Even just the sweet messages along the way from people I haven't talked to in years puts a little bit of light into my world. I am in awe of how good people can be. And I think that is a special gift that my father has given to me. I sure was getting hopeless. And he sure does keep teaching me things, even though he is not physically here. So, here's to my daddy, a force and a power bigger and better than I ever knew. I love you so much.
It's like a lightening bolt when I remember that he is gone. My brain plays back the highlights reel of losing him, and I'm shocked all over again. It doesn't happen all the time, and when you're a semi-trained, aspiring clinician like myself, you start worrying if this grieving is passing over into depression. But then you remind yourself that you've never grieved like this...you've never lost like this...and so, you don't really know what is appropriate. Or how to do it. How to deal. There really isn't a handbook on how this is supposed to be (and if there is, would I really trust it?).
Everything is splitting into this convenient dichotomy. A little bit of bad with the good. A little bit of good with the bad. Time flying by/time standing still. Which is evidenced by the title of this post. My dear daddy hasn't even been gone two months, but it feels like an eternity has passed. Yet, I feel that just yesterday, I was talking to him about life and listening to that big booming laughter as I told him about my antics.
I don't wish the pain that I am experiencing on even my worst enemy. Grief...the great uniter that no one can escape.
I do have the best friends and family ever. Even just the sweet messages along the way from people I haven't talked to in years puts a little bit of light into my world. I am in awe of how good people can be. And I think that is a special gift that my father has given to me. I sure was getting hopeless. And he sure does keep teaching me things, even though he is not physically here. So, here's to my daddy, a force and a power bigger and better than I ever knew. I love you so much.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
My Eulogy to My Dad
For those interested in my words to honor my father...here you go...
Two things - first please excuse me if I break down. The last three weeks have been the hardest of my life. And two, how 'bout them Hogs? I believe they pulled out a win in honor my daddy! Sorry to any Texas fans there may be in the crowd.
So, here we go.
Wade Turner - a father, a husband, a grandfather, a cousin, a son, a friend, a coach, a confidant - so many ways to describe this one man. He was certainly a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, he was everything. My super hero. We didn't say, "You're my whole world," to each other for nothing.
I'm having the hardest time believing, understanding, and accepting that he isn't here. I also can't bring myself to talk about him in the past tense. He loves me and always will is a good example of that. I also do it out of respect for the fact that a parent's love, and in this case, a father's love for his daughter, never dies.
My dad has taught me so much, and I felt it fitting to share some of his lessons with you today. First and foremost, the man taught me true, solid work ethic. If you work hard enough, you're going to be okay. Daddy worked until the last day that he could. His death is perhaps such a shock because we all saw a man who wouldn't give up or slow down for anything. There is so much from that to respect.
He also taught me how to dream big and how to use that work ethic in order to achieve it all. Case in point, I moved myself to Israel and have built a beautiful life that I wouldn't trade for anything. All with Dad's support and blessings.
Perhaps to the disappointment of my mom and others, Dad also taught me how to fight and cuss with the best of them. I'm shocked that I haven't said a curse word yet...but I guess there is still time.
I believe that Daddy's most splendid gift of all was how to love unconditionally without judgement with all of his heart. This was something that I was lucky enough to experience everyday and the value of his that I hold most dear.
There is one more thing that Daddy has left with me that I want to share. That is a strength so other worldly that I didn't know it was possible. Perhaps some of you saw on Facebook this #wadestrong. This fine gentleman (gesturing to the Methodist minister who officiated the funeral) reminded me of Daddy's strength when I was at my lowest point these past three weeks, when I thought my physical self was literally falling to pieces from the pain of losing my dad. Carter said to me, "You've got this. You're strong - Wade strong." And I guess I am.
Please take with you today a piece of my father, whether it be his compassion, his strength, his laughter (oh, that laughter!), or his ability to tell dirty jokes to any and everyone. And for Heaven's sake, share stories with me about my dad. What an individual. My daddy, the superhero, flying with the angels and painting the most magnificent skies I've ever seen. Thank you all for coming to pay respect to the best man I know.
Two things - first please excuse me if I break down. The last three weeks have been the hardest of my life. And two, how 'bout them Hogs? I believe they pulled out a win in honor my daddy! Sorry to any Texas fans there may be in the crowd.
So, here we go.
Wade Turner - a father, a husband, a grandfather, a cousin, a son, a friend, a coach, a confidant - so many ways to describe this one man. He was certainly a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, he was everything. My super hero. We didn't say, "You're my whole world," to each other for nothing.
I'm having the hardest time believing, understanding, and accepting that he isn't here. I also can't bring myself to talk about him in the past tense. He loves me and always will is a good example of that. I also do it out of respect for the fact that a parent's love, and in this case, a father's love for his daughter, never dies.
My dad has taught me so much, and I felt it fitting to share some of his lessons with you today. First and foremost, the man taught me true, solid work ethic. If you work hard enough, you're going to be okay. Daddy worked until the last day that he could. His death is perhaps such a shock because we all saw a man who wouldn't give up or slow down for anything. There is so much from that to respect.
He also taught me how to dream big and how to use that work ethic in order to achieve it all. Case in point, I moved myself to Israel and have built a beautiful life that I wouldn't trade for anything. All with Dad's support and blessings.
Perhaps to the disappointment of my mom and others, Dad also taught me how to fight and cuss with the best of them. I'm shocked that I haven't said a curse word yet...but I guess there is still time.
I believe that Daddy's most splendid gift of all was how to love unconditionally without judgement with all of his heart. This was something that I was lucky enough to experience everyday and the value of his that I hold most dear.
There is one more thing that Daddy has left with me that I want to share. That is a strength so other worldly that I didn't know it was possible. Perhaps some of you saw on Facebook this #wadestrong. This fine gentleman (gesturing to the Methodist minister who officiated the funeral) reminded me of Daddy's strength when I was at my lowest point these past three weeks, when I thought my physical self was literally falling to pieces from the pain of losing my dad. Carter said to me, "You've got this. You're strong - Wade strong." And I guess I am.
Please take with you today a piece of my father, whether it be his compassion, his strength, his laughter (oh, that laughter!), or his ability to tell dirty jokes to any and everyone. And for Heaven's sake, share stories with me about my dad. What an individual. My daddy, the superhero, flying with the angels and painting the most magnificent skies I've ever seen. Thank you all for coming to pay respect to the best man I know.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
The World Lost a Hero...
It is with great sadness that I am writing about the passing of my dear sweet daddy, Wade Turner. The last month has been a whirlwind of emotions and events, and I'm just now finding the courage and the strength to write about it.
My dad fell ill in early to mid-December, something which we initially thought was just the flu. Then things got complicated. He had a very aggressive blood infection. His congestive heart failure flared up. He kept getting sicker and better and sicker and better. I hopped on the first flight I could and came to be with him, simply because when I told him I was coming, he said, "That's wonderful, darling," not "Don't waste your money - I'm okay." I was terrified as I made my 24 hours journey home. I rested a day in Fort Smith, my hometown, before heading to the state capitol, Little Rock, where my dad was hospitalized (thanks to the good ole VA system). I crashed on the couch/in the spare bedroom of dear, dear friends who said, "Stay as long as you need to," something which a lot of people say but not a lot of people mean. This amazing couple meant it, and so I camped out. I was with Daddy everyday, including his birthday, when he turned 69. It was the second night of Chanukah, too, and I made him and my hosts blueberry donuts, and I fed my sweet daddy vanilla ice cream. He begged for me to stay the night at the hospital, and I did. He asked me to rub his head when his breathing got worse. I tried to show him pictures and make him comfortable. I sang him happy birthday. He just couldn't get better. Very tragically, the day after his birthday, he had to be put on a breathing machine. I grabbed his shoulders and hugged him tight and looked him in those big, beautiful, blue eyes and I said, "I love you, Daddy." He said, "I love you, too." These would be his last words to his family, to me. My sister from Florida rushed in to be by my side, a blessing so big, it's impossible to comprehend. My brother flew (in a car) to my rescue, as well, and helped in indesribable ways. Six very painful days, my daddy stayed on the breathing machine. Six very painful days of trying to take him off to see if he could recover on his own. Six very painful days of saying goodbye over and over again, not knowing what the future will hold. With the strength and love of family around me (especially because of a sweet story my brother told me about my amazing almost 18 year old niece), I was able to go and tell my daddy all the last little things that had gone unsaid like, "I will be okay," and "Don't be scared," and "If you need to go, I understand." Thanks to God, for us, my dad and I didn't leave a lot unsaid. It was very clear to us and to all who know us how much we love and adore one another.
On what would lead up to the last night of Chanukah, Daddy's treatment team posed a very hard question - did we want to take Daddy off of the breathing machine. We knew that by doing so, he would not live. And we knew that those were his wishes, not to keep him alive with heroic measures. That was the most painful question I have ever answered in my life - Yes, take him off of the machine so he can go in peace. We all agreed, and the team moved him to the palliative care unit. I was petrified to go in the room, but with the loving embrace of a nurse who is literally an angel on earth, I made it by my dad's bed. They took out the breathing tube and made him so very, very comfortable. I held his hand. I kissed his forehead. And he just very gently drifted away. And that was it. Three weeks of terror, three weeks of living a nightmare that I have always dreaded was over. My daddy was at peace. I got to hold his hand. I got to tell him everything. I got to spend his last waking moments with him. I'm so lucky, even though it is hard to say that in the midst of all this pain. That angel of a nurse even shaved my father's face after he passed out of respect for him, since my mom had said that he didn't look like himself (he was always ALWAYS clean-shaven). My mom and I drove home that afternoon, and I'm convinced that Daddy painted the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen, just to show me that he was with me. We got home, sad and lonely and feeling this huge empty space, and we lit the Chanukah candles for the last night, the night with the most light. And Daddy helped to enhance that light. So beautiful and so incredibly sad.
Daddy's funeral was very much along the same lines - beautiful and incredibly sad...and so very funny. An orange tabby cat that very much resembled our beloved Spike who died a year ago (and who watched over my dad as if it was his duty) came to the service, rubbed on people's legs, jumped on the bottom shelf of the table, jumped on the chair next to my mom, and allowed her to love on him. This cat's presence was so weird yet so fitting, and the funeral director said in all of his years of work, he had never seen something like it. The 188th came and presented my mom with the flag while Taps was played in the background. Seeing a soldier in full regalia get down on one knee, give the flag to my mom, and say, "I am so sorry for your loss. The United States of America thanks you for your husband's service," was one of the most beautiful displays of respect I've ever seen in my life. Then, my host from Little Rock, a Methodist minister, began the most perfect ceremony to honor my dad. We couldn't get a rabbi in time, and this guy knew and loved my dad, which made it all the more fitting. One of my best friends eulogized my dad and had everyone in tears of awe and laughter by the end. I eulogized my dad because I felt it my duty. I cried the whole time, but I did it with honor. And our Methodist minister wrapped it up with a eulogy that perfectly encompassed my dad, rough edges and all. Then, we all took turns helping to cover the grave, my mom first, me second, the rest of the family, and then friends. It was so beautiful how it all just happened, how everything just flowed. Everyone cried together, everyone laughed together, and the warm embrace of all these people who love my dad helped me to get through one of the hardest days of my life. The fact that I was surrounded by family that I hadn't connected with in years, my sister and her husband, my brother and his family, my late sister's husband, meant so much to me and lifted me up. Wow. Just wow.
And now, here I sit. Trying desperately to understand what has happened over the past three weeks. I'm with my mom for another couple of days before I have to head back to Israel and rejoin the real world. My heart is broken into pieces. But I am at peace. I have a reaffirmed bond with my family, my dad's last beautiful bit of magic that just drew us all together. I am determined to take care of my mom and grow closer to her. And I am ready to continue on with my life infused with a sense of strength that I didn't know was humanly possible. As our Methodist minister friend told me when I was at my lowest point ever, literally falling apart physically over losing my dad, "You've got this. You're strong, Wade strong." And he's right. I take that with me everywhere I go. I am even stronger now than I was before, and even though it hurts like hell right now, I know that my dad is always with me, his love will never die, and that I will always make him proud.
Sending you all my deepest thanks for all the sympathy and all the love and all the support during this terribly difficult time. It's appreciated more than you will ever know.
My dad fell ill in early to mid-December, something which we initially thought was just the flu. Then things got complicated. He had a very aggressive blood infection. His congestive heart failure flared up. He kept getting sicker and better and sicker and better. I hopped on the first flight I could and came to be with him, simply because when I told him I was coming, he said, "That's wonderful, darling," not "Don't waste your money - I'm okay." I was terrified as I made my 24 hours journey home. I rested a day in Fort Smith, my hometown, before heading to the state capitol, Little Rock, where my dad was hospitalized (thanks to the good ole VA system). I crashed on the couch/in the spare bedroom of dear, dear friends who said, "Stay as long as you need to," something which a lot of people say but not a lot of people mean. This amazing couple meant it, and so I camped out. I was with Daddy everyday, including his birthday, when he turned 69. It was the second night of Chanukah, too, and I made him and my hosts blueberry donuts, and I fed my sweet daddy vanilla ice cream. He begged for me to stay the night at the hospital, and I did. He asked me to rub his head when his breathing got worse. I tried to show him pictures and make him comfortable. I sang him happy birthday. He just couldn't get better. Very tragically, the day after his birthday, he had to be put on a breathing machine. I grabbed his shoulders and hugged him tight and looked him in those big, beautiful, blue eyes and I said, "I love you, Daddy." He said, "I love you, too." These would be his last words to his family, to me. My sister from Florida rushed in to be by my side, a blessing so big, it's impossible to comprehend. My brother flew (in a car) to my rescue, as well, and helped in indesribable ways. Six very painful days, my daddy stayed on the breathing machine. Six very painful days of trying to take him off to see if he could recover on his own. Six very painful days of saying goodbye over and over again, not knowing what the future will hold. With the strength and love of family around me (especially because of a sweet story my brother told me about my amazing almost 18 year old niece), I was able to go and tell my daddy all the last little things that had gone unsaid like, "I will be okay," and "Don't be scared," and "If you need to go, I understand." Thanks to God, for us, my dad and I didn't leave a lot unsaid. It was very clear to us and to all who know us how much we love and adore one another.
On what would lead up to the last night of Chanukah, Daddy's treatment team posed a very hard question - did we want to take Daddy off of the breathing machine. We knew that by doing so, he would not live. And we knew that those were his wishes, not to keep him alive with heroic measures. That was the most painful question I have ever answered in my life - Yes, take him off of the machine so he can go in peace. We all agreed, and the team moved him to the palliative care unit. I was petrified to go in the room, but with the loving embrace of a nurse who is literally an angel on earth, I made it by my dad's bed. They took out the breathing tube and made him so very, very comfortable. I held his hand. I kissed his forehead. And he just very gently drifted away. And that was it. Three weeks of terror, three weeks of living a nightmare that I have always dreaded was over. My daddy was at peace. I got to hold his hand. I got to tell him everything. I got to spend his last waking moments with him. I'm so lucky, even though it is hard to say that in the midst of all this pain. That angel of a nurse even shaved my father's face after he passed out of respect for him, since my mom had said that he didn't look like himself (he was always ALWAYS clean-shaven). My mom and I drove home that afternoon, and I'm convinced that Daddy painted the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen, just to show me that he was with me. We got home, sad and lonely and feeling this huge empty space, and we lit the Chanukah candles for the last night, the night with the most light. And Daddy helped to enhance that light. So beautiful and so incredibly sad.
Daddy's funeral was very much along the same lines - beautiful and incredibly sad...and so very funny. An orange tabby cat that very much resembled our beloved Spike who died a year ago (and who watched over my dad as if it was his duty) came to the service, rubbed on people's legs, jumped on the bottom shelf of the table, jumped on the chair next to my mom, and allowed her to love on him. This cat's presence was so weird yet so fitting, and the funeral director said in all of his years of work, he had never seen something like it. The 188th came and presented my mom with the flag while Taps was played in the background. Seeing a soldier in full regalia get down on one knee, give the flag to my mom, and say, "I am so sorry for your loss. The United States of America thanks you for your husband's service," was one of the most beautiful displays of respect I've ever seen in my life. Then, my host from Little Rock, a Methodist minister, began the most perfect ceremony to honor my dad. We couldn't get a rabbi in time, and this guy knew and loved my dad, which made it all the more fitting. One of my best friends eulogized my dad and had everyone in tears of awe and laughter by the end. I eulogized my dad because I felt it my duty. I cried the whole time, but I did it with honor. And our Methodist minister wrapped it up with a eulogy that perfectly encompassed my dad, rough edges and all. Then, we all took turns helping to cover the grave, my mom first, me second, the rest of the family, and then friends. It was so beautiful how it all just happened, how everything just flowed. Everyone cried together, everyone laughed together, and the warm embrace of all these people who love my dad helped me to get through one of the hardest days of my life. The fact that I was surrounded by family that I hadn't connected with in years, my sister and her husband, my brother and his family, my late sister's husband, meant so much to me and lifted me up. Wow. Just wow.
And now, here I sit. Trying desperately to understand what has happened over the past three weeks. I'm with my mom for another couple of days before I have to head back to Israel and rejoin the real world. My heart is broken into pieces. But I am at peace. I have a reaffirmed bond with my family, my dad's last beautiful bit of magic that just drew us all together. I am determined to take care of my mom and grow closer to her. And I am ready to continue on with my life infused with a sense of strength that I didn't know was humanly possible. As our Methodist minister friend told me when I was at my lowest point ever, literally falling apart physically over losing my dad, "You've got this. You're strong, Wade strong." And he's right. I take that with me everywhere I go. I am even stronger now than I was before, and even though it hurts like hell right now, I know that my dad is always with me, his love will never die, and that I will always make him proud.
Sending you all my deepest thanks for all the sympathy and all the love and all the support during this terribly difficult time. It's appreciated more than you will ever know.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Life in Israel is Like a Two-Lane Traffic Cirlce...
I want you, for a moment, to use your imagination. Especially if you're reading from a place like the US, you probably don't have much experience with traffic circles. I sure as hell didn't. They exist to assist the flow of traffic at an intersection that doesn't need a traffic light. Think of it this way - they're in place of a four-way stop. Getting in and out of the flow of traffic is tricky enough, especially with Israeli drivers coming at you in a flying, circular vortex of vehicular power (it really is that frightening sometimes). Now, take that circle, and make it two lanes. Two lanes of spinning insanity. And a lot of impatient people who are in that inner ring but who really, really want to exit RIGHT NOW, no matter the damage they cause to the other cars as they cut you off and nearly run over grandma who was crossing the road in the process. And then they continue down the road, seemingly oblivious to the massive accident they nearly caused and most definitely without a care in the world to the extreme spike in blood pressure that you, the other driver, just experienced.
That's how life in Israel is. For me. Right now. Maybe it's the change in weather. Winter is upon us which means rain and sandstorms and bitterly cold nights. The skyline is a peaceful gray right now as I gaze out my window. Maybe it's the upside down security situation right now, with terror attacks becoming more and more frequent and huge mistakes being made on both sides (why can't I just run the world?). Maybe it's the routine of school and internship and work and lessons and somehow trying to maintain a relationship, friendships, and my sanity. I can't put my finger on it. But right now, Israel is making me grumpy, just like that driver in the two-lane traffic circle.
It could be the bureaucracy that caused me to travel three different times to the hospital to pick up the disc of the CT I did a month ago. It could be the laziness of many secretaries in this country that causes so many issues and so many delays. It could be the two guys who rolled up next to me and my girlfriend (and my boyfriend and my dog) while waiting on my friend's taxi that wanted to "hire us" for the evening. It could be the trash in the streets, the dog shit on the sidewalks, and the people who think nothing is wrong with this. It could be the woman behind me at the supermarket who literally stood on my heels with the short-sighted logic that this will indeed make the line move faster. It could be that little, scared voice in my head that is so petrified of what may be...all this talk of the Third Intifada is terribly unnerving.
But then...then Israel, in her own backwards way, makes me fall in love all over again. It was the Chassidim dancing wildly on top of their van outside of a hip Be'er Sheva restaurant, basically stealing men from their girlfriends to dance with them to blaring music about the coming of the Messiah. And the awesome sticker that I got that says, "God loves you." It could be that reassuring smile from the cashier who knows just how frustrating it is to deal with those in this country who were not born with an ounce of patience - and to have hope that not everyone here is like that. It could be teaching someone English lessons in exchange for private yoga lessons (y'all, I hung upside down today on a rope! It was exhilarating!). It could be teaching a class to med students in English about how to effectively communicate with a patient and then immediately running to my own internship of how to care for clients in Hebrew. Life here always has that dichotomy. And just when you feel like you're about to break from anger and frustration, here she comes again to make you fall in love. It happens every time.
So, Israel, even with your endless frustrations, I continue to appreciate your beauty and your surprises. And I love you dearly. Until next time...
That's how life in Israel is. For me. Right now. Maybe it's the change in weather. Winter is upon us which means rain and sandstorms and bitterly cold nights. The skyline is a peaceful gray right now as I gaze out my window. Maybe it's the upside down security situation right now, with terror attacks becoming more and more frequent and huge mistakes being made on both sides (why can't I just run the world?). Maybe it's the routine of school and internship and work and lessons and somehow trying to maintain a relationship, friendships, and my sanity. I can't put my finger on it. But right now, Israel is making me grumpy, just like that driver in the two-lane traffic circle.
It could be the bureaucracy that caused me to travel three different times to the hospital to pick up the disc of the CT I did a month ago. It could be the laziness of many secretaries in this country that causes so many issues and so many delays. It could be the two guys who rolled up next to me and my girlfriend (and my boyfriend and my dog) while waiting on my friend's taxi that wanted to "hire us" for the evening. It could be the trash in the streets, the dog shit on the sidewalks, and the people who think nothing is wrong with this. It could be the woman behind me at the supermarket who literally stood on my heels with the short-sighted logic that this will indeed make the line move faster. It could be that little, scared voice in my head that is so petrified of what may be...all this talk of the Third Intifada is terribly unnerving.
But then...then Israel, in her own backwards way, makes me fall in love all over again. It was the Chassidim dancing wildly on top of their van outside of a hip Be'er Sheva restaurant, basically stealing men from their girlfriends to dance with them to blaring music about the coming of the Messiah. And the awesome sticker that I got that says, "God loves you." It could be that reassuring smile from the cashier who knows just how frustrating it is to deal with those in this country who were not born with an ounce of patience - and to have hope that not everyone here is like that. It could be teaching someone English lessons in exchange for private yoga lessons (y'all, I hung upside down today on a rope! It was exhilarating!). It could be teaching a class to med students in English about how to effectively communicate with a patient and then immediately running to my own internship of how to care for clients in Hebrew. Life here always has that dichotomy. And just when you feel like you're about to break from anger and frustration, here she comes again to make you fall in love. It happens every time.
So, Israel, even with your endless frustrations, I continue to appreciate your beauty and your surprises. And I love you dearly. Until next time...
Sunday, November 9, 2014
The Chills Down My Spine
People are saying it. The news is reporting it. It's on everyone's mind. The Third Intifada is here.
Is it true? I keep trying to pretend that it's not. And even if my stomach is a bit nervous at the thought, I'm still not convinced that it's here. I'm still convinced that it's a tool of the media to get us all scared and up in arms again, a tool of the politicians to help advance their agendas.
But what if I'm wrong?
Last week, there were three terror attacks in Jerusalem. There has been constant rioting since the "end" of the war, and a general feeling of unrest is just floating through the airwaves there.
Today, however, shook me deeper down than any of this other, remote stuff has. My adorable officemate came wheeling around the corner and said, "You've got to come quick! There's a protest happening!" Together, we cautiously walked to where the noise was coming from, and we saw on the outside of the campus gates a very large crowd of people waving Palestinian flags.
Let me pause to say how much I support the right to organize and protest. I think it's beautiful. And this group was supremely organized with their agenda clearly stated. So, kudos to them for the work put into the protest.
The weird part is this - the protesters were mostly Bedouins. From what I know of Israeli history, Bedouins have been historically very supportive of Israel. There are Bedouin units in the army, and Bedouins identify (identified?) themselves as Israeli. I guess this could be coming from a wide range of areas, including complete grief and frustration at how they are marginalized by the Israeli government, are not afforded the same access to education and jobs as the rest of Israeli society, and so on. They're definitely coming with a strong voice to protest, but to do it so vehemently against what they once considered their home? That many of their own family members have died protecting? That's not a good sign, friends.
And I saw all of this happen today, in my beloved city of Be'er Sheva, outside the gates of my university. What does this mean? Are we are on the verge of being divided? Can we not get along? Is this the end of that beautiful air of cooperation and coexistence that we have enjoyed here in Be'er Sheva?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, but watching that protest today, and watching the counter-protest by the group of Israelis, fueled by energy and emotion, really unsettled me. What's next? Am I being supremely naive thinking that this thing called peace is even possible?
I hope not.
Is it true? I keep trying to pretend that it's not. And even if my stomach is a bit nervous at the thought, I'm still not convinced that it's here. I'm still convinced that it's a tool of the media to get us all scared and up in arms again, a tool of the politicians to help advance their agendas.
But what if I'm wrong?
Last week, there were three terror attacks in Jerusalem. There has been constant rioting since the "end" of the war, and a general feeling of unrest is just floating through the airwaves there.
Today, however, shook me deeper down than any of this other, remote stuff has. My adorable officemate came wheeling around the corner and said, "You've got to come quick! There's a protest happening!" Together, we cautiously walked to where the noise was coming from, and we saw on the outside of the campus gates a very large crowd of people waving Palestinian flags.
Let me pause to say how much I support the right to organize and protest. I think it's beautiful. And this group was supremely organized with their agenda clearly stated. So, kudos to them for the work put into the protest.
The weird part is this - the protesters were mostly Bedouins. From what I know of Israeli history, Bedouins have been historically very supportive of Israel. There are Bedouin units in the army, and Bedouins identify (identified?) themselves as Israeli. I guess this could be coming from a wide range of areas, including complete grief and frustration at how they are marginalized by the Israeli government, are not afforded the same access to education and jobs as the rest of Israeli society, and so on. They're definitely coming with a strong voice to protest, but to do it so vehemently against what they once considered their home? That many of their own family members have died protecting? That's not a good sign, friends.
And I saw all of this happen today, in my beloved city of Be'er Sheva, outside the gates of my university. What does this mean? Are we are on the verge of being divided? Can we not get along? Is this the end of that beautiful air of cooperation and coexistence that we have enjoyed here in Be'er Sheva?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, but watching that protest today, and watching the counter-protest by the group of Israelis, fueled by energy and emotion, really unsettled me. What's next? Am I being supremely naive thinking that this thing called peace is even possible?
I hope not.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Life, Post Trauma
While the title may be similar to my last blog post, it's so fitting to what has gone on in the past month and a half. First, I'd like to apologize for not updating during my trip to the US and then upon my arrival to Israel. It's been a whirlwind! As for a quick update, my dad had his open heart surgery, and thank goodness, everything went really well. He's still recovering, but he's getting his strength back, and we are all relieved to have that behind us. My mom is doing great - she's as spunky as ever! I just love hearing how excited she is about all the fun things she is doing now. And even though it was terrible to say goodbye to them, I had a great and fulfilling time, and our relationship always seems to get better and stronger (if that's possible) after every trip. So, Mom and Dad, I love you both dearly and visiting two of my favorite people in the world is always amazing.
The boyfriend had an amazing time, as well. We ate, we drank, we hiked, we toured...we did everything possible in our time there. He's definitely been accepted as part of the family by parents and friends alike. We were also terribly spoiled by many of my (and now our) dear friends, and it warmed my heart to be so close to my near and dear.
And now, we've returned to life in Israel, post-war (for now) and with lots and lots of changes. It's safe to say that they are all changes for the better and that we are just trying to get settled before the academic year starts...and before any other hostilities take hold.
Here's what's new for us:
It's a long and exciting list. By October 1st, we'll be moved in, signed up for classes, I'll have finished my last shift at the retail job, and I'll have turned in my last papers to officially finish the spring semester of 2014. Odd, I know, but because of the war and it's staggering impact on daily functioning, university studies only resumed at the end of August, and we were mercifully given extra time to work on papers and assignments. I'm very appreciative of this since there was NO WAY my papers would be finished in the midst of bombings and then with my trip to be with my family.
So, slowly but surely, we're wrapping up the things that should have already been wrapped up, and we're trying to put this war behind us. We are all having to calm each other down at the sound of a motorcycle revving up or at a distant ambulance, and every time a chopper flies overhead, it's hard not to be taken back to the war when these were the gut-wrenching norm. Just for a giggle, you should check out this video that says, "Did you hear that?!" and illustrates how EVERYTHING starts sounding like a siren...
I think the most heartbreaking part of all of this is when I work with my English students. They have all said, "You know, during Rosh Hashana, it's going to start again." Let that sink in for a minute. Adults aren't talking about it like that, the media and all its bullshit aren't talking like that, but the kids feel that when the Israelis go back to the negotiating table (well, they already have...talks started again Tuesday), it just means that bombs will start falling again. And to be honest, I also don't feel that it is totally behind us. There's something in my gut that tells me that sooner or later, I'll have to get used to running down four flights of stairs to the bomb shelter and that I'll again have to cope with my everyday being turned upside down. Oh well. At least from my end, I'll be working on these various peace projects and trying to do my part to make this world a better place.
And with that, I wish you all a Shana Tova u'Metuaka! A sweet and good new year to us all. With lots of love until next time (which will be much sooner than last!), Megan.
The boyfriend had an amazing time, as well. We ate, we drank, we hiked, we toured...we did everything possible in our time there. He's definitely been accepted as part of the family by parents and friends alike. We were also terribly spoiled by many of my (and now our) dear friends, and it warmed my heart to be so close to my near and dear.
And now, we've returned to life in Israel, post-war (for now) and with lots and lots of changes. It's safe to say that they are all changes for the better and that we are just trying to get settled before the academic year starts...and before any other hostilities take hold.
Here's what's new for us:
- We are moving to a new, smaller apartment VERY close to the university in the coming days. It's beautiful and renovated and on the fourth floor, for better or worse, with no elevator. We are very happy with it and with our new and convenient location. Friends, the plastic wrap was still on a lot of the furniture - it's so luxurious compared to where we are now!
- Yagel is starting his bachelor's degree, and I'm continuing on to my second year of my master's. I'm lucky to have enrolled in all the classes I wanted, and I got accepted into the internship that I wanted for this next year. I'll be working to help the families of those suffering with mental illness in many different and dynamic ways, and I'll be working with some of my favorite fellow students, so yay!
- I got a new job. With a tear in my eye but a twinkle in my heart, I am saying goodbye to the retail world (my last shift is Saturday evening!!), and I have been welcomed with open arms into the academic world. I am a research assistant for a professor of social work at my university. It's a mentally challenging job, which I needed, and it's IN MY DEPARTMENT, meaning that I'm totally interested in the material and that I have crucial experience needed for the projects. One specific project I'm working on is a project of building dialogue between Palestinians and Israelis, building peace from the ground up. It's beautiful and wonderful, and I'll be happy to blog about it in future posts.
It's a long and exciting list. By October 1st, we'll be moved in, signed up for classes, I'll have finished my last shift at the retail job, and I'll have turned in my last papers to officially finish the spring semester of 2014. Odd, I know, but because of the war and it's staggering impact on daily functioning, university studies only resumed at the end of August, and we were mercifully given extra time to work on papers and assignments. I'm very appreciative of this since there was NO WAY my papers would be finished in the midst of bombings and then with my trip to be with my family.
So, slowly but surely, we're wrapping up the things that should have already been wrapped up, and we're trying to put this war behind us. We are all having to calm each other down at the sound of a motorcycle revving up or at a distant ambulance, and every time a chopper flies overhead, it's hard not to be taken back to the war when these were the gut-wrenching norm. Just for a giggle, you should check out this video that says, "Did you hear that?!" and illustrates how EVERYTHING starts sounding like a siren...
I think the most heartbreaking part of all of this is when I work with my English students. They have all said, "You know, during Rosh Hashana, it's going to start again." Let that sink in for a minute. Adults aren't talking about it like that, the media and all its bullshit aren't talking like that, but the kids feel that when the Israelis go back to the negotiating table (well, they already have...talks started again Tuesday), it just means that bombs will start falling again. And to be honest, I also don't feel that it is totally behind us. There's something in my gut that tells me that sooner or later, I'll have to get used to running down four flights of stairs to the bomb shelter and that I'll again have to cope with my everyday being turned upside down. Oh well. At least from my end, I'll be working on these various peace projects and trying to do my part to make this world a better place.
And with that, I wish you all a Shana Tova u'Metuaka! A sweet and good new year to us all. With lots of love until next time (which will be much sooner than last!), Megan.
Friday, August 1, 2014
Day 25 - Living with Post Trauma
The war in my adopted home is waging on. And while I'm in my first home, the war in my head continues to wage on, as well. I'm finding it so difficult to watch the news (or any other TV show that might discuss current events), and I'm so frustrated and angry that this madness continues...and that the whole world is blind to what is going on. I would really like for any head of any country or any foreign body (cough, cough Ban Ki Moon) to live in the situation me and my loved ones have for the past MONTH and tell me that we are in the wrong. I've lost my drive to push forward with educating and correcting, and I'm so broken hearted about what is going on back home. Since that phrase - home is where the heart is - means that my heart is split in two.
I thought that, just to give some more perspective, I would write about all the instances in my life that were stopped by sirens for 20+ days. And yes, even here in the States, my life has been interrupted by those horrible sirens and rockets.
Eating dinner.
Making coffee.
Talking on the phone with my mom.
Taking a shower.
Walking the dog x7 (alone and together).
Driving (Yagel has gotten stuck 4 times).
Parking the car.
Opening the store.
Working in the store x10 (at least).
In the middle of checking someone out at the register.
Before clocking in at work.
On the toilet.
Sleeping.
Napping.
Sleeping.
Sleeping.
Sleeping.
ALMOST on the bicycle (I had just walked into the mall 30 seconds earlier).
Teaching English lessons x3.
Eating dinner with friends x2 (and having to run into a stranger's house to get to the bomb shelter).
Talking to Yagel on the phone while here in the States.
Cooking dinner.
Fixing breakfast.
Writing my grad school finals.
Reading the news.
Crying.
Semi-naked.
Sitting at a cafe, having coffee.
Showing pictures from a recent trip.
Looking for keys to unlock the door.
This list is rather endless. It could be a list of just everyday activities, and that's what is so shocking. These everyday activities were interrupted by rocket fire, by panicked running, throwing on clothes or towels, by constantly WAITING for the next one. Why does my everyday have to be like this? Why is it acceptable? Why do my students have to run, wide-eyed, into the bomb shelter while I'm teaching them English? Why did I have to see a picture of one of my best friends shielding her children with her body on a bus while trying to go to the zoo out of the city just to get some normalcy? Why do I have to read the exhausted and pained messages and status updates from those I love? Why do I have to worry constantly about dear ones fighting in Gaza?
All of this over a terror organization that has taken the region hostage. An organization who wants to kill ME. An organization that wants to kill its own citizens. An organization that calls for the annihilation of an entire country and people. So, wake up, world. This is happening.
I'm just counting the days until my sweetheart will be in the States with me. But, our friends and family will still be there weathering the storm. And a piece of our hearts will be there with them. I know mine is now. My sleep-deprived, traumatized self. Maybe I'll rest better when this nightmare is over, since, it seems, even being 6500 miles away from the front lines hasn't totally helped. Wishing strength and quiet for all Am Yisrael. Endurance and safety for our brave soldiers. And freedom of Gaza from Hamas. Amen.
I thought that, just to give some more perspective, I would write about all the instances in my life that were stopped by sirens for 20+ days. And yes, even here in the States, my life has been interrupted by those horrible sirens and rockets.
Eating dinner.
Making coffee.
Talking on the phone with my mom.
Taking a shower.
Walking the dog x7 (alone and together).
Driving (Yagel has gotten stuck 4 times).
Parking the car.
Opening the store.
Working in the store x10 (at least).
In the middle of checking someone out at the register.
Before clocking in at work.
On the toilet.
Sleeping.
Napping.
Sleeping.
Sleeping.
Sleeping.
ALMOST on the bicycle (I had just walked into the mall 30 seconds earlier).
Teaching English lessons x3.
Eating dinner with friends x2 (and having to run into a stranger's house to get to the bomb shelter).
Talking to Yagel on the phone while here in the States.
Cooking dinner.
Fixing breakfast.
Writing my grad school finals.
Reading the news.
Crying.
Semi-naked.
Sitting at a cafe, having coffee.
Showing pictures from a recent trip.
Looking for keys to unlock the door.
This list is rather endless. It could be a list of just everyday activities, and that's what is so shocking. These everyday activities were interrupted by rocket fire, by panicked running, throwing on clothes or towels, by constantly WAITING for the next one. Why does my everyday have to be like this? Why is it acceptable? Why do my students have to run, wide-eyed, into the bomb shelter while I'm teaching them English? Why did I have to see a picture of one of my best friends shielding her children with her body on a bus while trying to go to the zoo out of the city just to get some normalcy? Why do I have to read the exhausted and pained messages and status updates from those I love? Why do I have to worry constantly about dear ones fighting in Gaza?
All of this over a terror organization that has taken the region hostage. An organization who wants to kill ME. An organization that wants to kill its own citizens. An organization that calls for the annihilation of an entire country and people. So, wake up, world. This is happening.
I'm just counting the days until my sweetheart will be in the States with me. But, our friends and family will still be there weathering the storm. And a piece of our hearts will be there with them. I know mine is now. My sleep-deprived, traumatized self. Maybe I'll rest better when this nightmare is over, since, it seems, even being 6500 miles away from the front lines hasn't totally helped. Wishing strength and quiet for all Am Yisrael. Endurance and safety for our brave soldiers. And freedom of Gaza from Hamas. Amen.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Day 21 - Almost Home
Hello, dear readers. Your fearless blogger is coming to you from Atlanta, waiting on the last leg of her trip to Fort Smith, Arkansas.
Let me tell you - this has been The Trip from Hell.
How, you ask? Well, it all started with an 8 hour delay on my Tel Aviv to Philadelphia flight. The crew was delayed and then had a required rest period on the ground in Israel. No worries. I waited at home with Yagel, then I took the bus (wifi included!) to the airport, waited in a never-ending line to check in since everyone's connections were jacked. I got rescheduled quickly and was on my way. The flight itself was one of the nicest international flights I've been on. I got into Philly and tried to get on an earlier flight to Arkansas, but they wanted an arm and a leg to change, so I hunkered down for the wait.
And I waited. And waited. And waited. My flight was delayed due to weather, and they finally put us on the plane, but we sat on the runway for two hours. I was refused a blanket when I asked since they're "only for first class passengers" although I was freezing! We deplaned due to weather and regulations and then were very quickly pushed back on the plane. Only to wait another two hours. By this time, it's 1am, no flight to Arkansas exists at this hour, and I'm informed that since it is a weather delay, American Airlines wouldn't pay for a hotel or even food. Keep in mind that at this point, I've been traveling for almost 30 hours, I haven't eaten lunch or dinner, and nothing is open. I felt miserable and had to put up a fight to be reassigned to Delta so I wouldn't have to suffer anymore AA.
I felt relief as 430am rolled around, and I headed to my new Delta gate. Only to find out that I hadn't been fully booked on the flight and that there weren't any seats left. Only by the grace of God did one person not show up, and I squeaked on. Now, one more hour, and I will board my flight that goes directly to my hometown instead of flying into a bigger airport and driving. My bag won't make it to Fort Smith, but it'll be forwarded on to me. After this long nightmare, I could care less about the bag. I need a mommy and daddy hug, food, a shower, and sleep. Forty-one hours and counting. Fifty, if you count the initial delay. It's insane.
And with that said, my head and my heart are constantly back in Israel. I also constantly react as if I've heard a siren, still not used to being in a country not at war. Odd. So, here's counting to hours to being reunited with the parents, and counting down the days until Yagel will be with me. Lots more to write, just no energy for it now. We'll talk again in Arkansas!
Let me tell you - this has been The Trip from Hell.
How, you ask? Well, it all started with an 8 hour delay on my Tel Aviv to Philadelphia flight. The crew was delayed and then had a required rest period on the ground in Israel. No worries. I waited at home with Yagel, then I took the bus (wifi included!) to the airport, waited in a never-ending line to check in since everyone's connections were jacked. I got rescheduled quickly and was on my way. The flight itself was one of the nicest international flights I've been on. I got into Philly and tried to get on an earlier flight to Arkansas, but they wanted an arm and a leg to change, so I hunkered down for the wait.
And I waited. And waited. And waited. My flight was delayed due to weather, and they finally put us on the plane, but we sat on the runway for two hours. I was refused a blanket when I asked since they're "only for first class passengers" although I was freezing! We deplaned due to weather and regulations and then were very quickly pushed back on the plane. Only to wait another two hours. By this time, it's 1am, no flight to Arkansas exists at this hour, and I'm informed that since it is a weather delay, American Airlines wouldn't pay for a hotel or even food. Keep in mind that at this point, I've been traveling for almost 30 hours, I haven't eaten lunch or dinner, and nothing is open. I felt miserable and had to put up a fight to be reassigned to Delta so I wouldn't have to suffer anymore AA.
I felt relief as 430am rolled around, and I headed to my new Delta gate. Only to find out that I hadn't been fully booked on the flight and that there weren't any seats left. Only by the grace of God did one person not show up, and I squeaked on. Now, one more hour, and I will board my flight that goes directly to my hometown instead of flying into a bigger airport and driving. My bag won't make it to Fort Smith, but it'll be forwarded on to me. After this long nightmare, I could care less about the bag. I need a mommy and daddy hug, food, a shower, and sleep. Forty-one hours and counting. Fifty, if you count the initial delay. It's insane.
And with that said, my head and my heart are constantly back in Israel. I also constantly react as if I've heard a siren, still not used to being in a country not at war. Odd. So, here's counting to hours to being reunited with the parents, and counting down the days until Yagel will be with me. Lots more to write, just no energy for it now. We'll talk again in Arkansas!
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Day 17 - Utter Confusion
The last two days have been a whirlwind. So, let's catch up.
Tuesday, I used my morning, before work at 2:30pm, to run errands. I've been scared to leave the house without a car, but I really needed to go get a replacement Israeli ID (no clue where mine is). We live quite close to the Ministry of the Interior, so I just walked there. That nice, yet strong, morning desert sun, that clean smell in the air, and that all too familiar fear of being stuck outside for rockets. But I was determined to hold my head high and go about my day normally. And I did...while constantly on the lookout for where to hide.
Friends, I am SO SICK of constantly having to think of where to run. I'm tired, I'm exhausted, I'm stretched to my limit, and I'm not even in a community close to Gaza where I only have 15 seconds. I have a minute, but that is only one minute to SAVE MY LIFE. I just don't know if I have the energy for it anymore.
Anyway, I applied for my new ID, and then I pushed my bike to the repair shop because I had a major flat. Then I rode my bike home. Somehow, I guess I thought we would go the day without rocket attacks. You get this false sense of security whenever things are quiet for a bit too long, and you forget what is going on, and then you snap back to reality. That moment when you snap back is one of the most disconcerting feelings ever. You suddenly remember, "Oh shit, I'm in a war zone, and I need to be on my toes. How was I not paying attention this whole time?!" And that's how it went, plus or minus, the whole day until I got to work.
I parked my bike, and I walked inside. My friend walked in before me and told the security guard that he needed to check me extra good because, "You know what Americans usually carry..." The guard laughed and told me, sarcastically, that I had a really good friend. So, we continue on, laughing and me lightly punching her in the arm, and then, there's a siren. My first thought was thank the sweet lord that I am not on that bicycle still. Second thought, okay, it's started again. And so the day progressed. More sirens. Dinner with three super lovely friends was interrupted twice by rockets. They live in an upstairs apartment attached to a house, so they have access to the house's bomb shelter. Down the outside steps we went, dog in the arms of my friend's husband, and into the house. I had no idea where to go, and suddenly, we are inside the landlords' house, and the lady is super sweet, directing us to the bomb shelter. We all squeeze in, five from upstairs, the dog, landlords and their adult son, sopping wet with just a towel between him and us. Awkward, but such is life.
The night air was clear, and we could hear sirens from the next city. We could hear the bombing and the fighting in Gaza. And it was so surreal...and sad...and terrifying. Which is how most days are now.
Yesterday, more sirens. Yagel got stuck twice in the car with the dog trying to buy our sweet puppy food. He had to park the car and bolt into a building with dog in tow (or was Yagel in tow? I'm not sure). His nerves were shot yesterday after that. I was in English lessons with two brothers, and my heart just broke watching them run frantically to the shelter. And we're both still exhausted from the late night bombings two nights ago.
On top of all of this, the FAA decided to ban all flights to and from Israel, and afterwards, many European carriers followed suit. For now, the ban is lifted, so I should be able to fly Saturday, but who knows. And now, my dad's surgery is postponed. Why? I'm not sure. So, essentially, Yagel and I are flying separately for now reason. If I fly. Does anyone else want to throw anything else into the mix to make my head a little more muddled?
And all of this while reading some of the most biased, uninformed, incorrect news stories, posts, and thoughts from people so far removed from this situation. It's not black and white. It's not simple. It's not Israel the aggressor and Gaza the pitiful. It's a nasty mix of innocent civilians everywhere being targeted by a terror organization, and a small country doing its best to defend itself and its civilians. There's an amazing blog here by Eitan Chitayat, an Israeli citizen, that I recommend all to read. I want to take two passages from his blog and post them here, because they sum it up so well:
"...we’re mass murderers? My country accepts an Egyptian-proposed Gaza cease-fire twice and Hamas keeps firing away. They aim rockets at civilians while we go at great lengths to avoid civilians actually calling them in their areas and dropping warning charges, to give innocents a chance to escape. That’s unprecedented in warfare history. We leave Gaza for a chance at peace 9 years ago and for 9 years we got rockets, hate education, underground tunnels built with the purpose of entering Israeli territory so radicals can murder and kidnap Jews? This is what we get for leaving Gaza unilaterally 9 years ago. And we’re mass murderers?"
Tuesday, I used my morning, before work at 2:30pm, to run errands. I've been scared to leave the house without a car, but I really needed to go get a replacement Israeli ID (no clue where mine is). We live quite close to the Ministry of the Interior, so I just walked there. That nice, yet strong, morning desert sun, that clean smell in the air, and that all too familiar fear of being stuck outside for rockets. But I was determined to hold my head high and go about my day normally. And I did...while constantly on the lookout for where to hide.
Friends, I am SO SICK of constantly having to think of where to run. I'm tired, I'm exhausted, I'm stretched to my limit, and I'm not even in a community close to Gaza where I only have 15 seconds. I have a minute, but that is only one minute to SAVE MY LIFE. I just don't know if I have the energy for it anymore.
Anyway, I applied for my new ID, and then I pushed my bike to the repair shop because I had a major flat. Then I rode my bike home. Somehow, I guess I thought we would go the day without rocket attacks. You get this false sense of security whenever things are quiet for a bit too long, and you forget what is going on, and then you snap back to reality. That moment when you snap back is one of the most disconcerting feelings ever. You suddenly remember, "Oh shit, I'm in a war zone, and I need to be on my toes. How was I not paying attention this whole time?!" And that's how it went, plus or minus, the whole day until I got to work.
I parked my bike, and I walked inside. My friend walked in before me and told the security guard that he needed to check me extra good because, "You know what Americans usually carry..." The guard laughed and told me, sarcastically, that I had a really good friend. So, we continue on, laughing and me lightly punching her in the arm, and then, there's a siren. My first thought was thank the sweet lord that I am not on that bicycle still. Second thought, okay, it's started again. And so the day progressed. More sirens. Dinner with three super lovely friends was interrupted twice by rockets. They live in an upstairs apartment attached to a house, so they have access to the house's bomb shelter. Down the outside steps we went, dog in the arms of my friend's husband, and into the house. I had no idea where to go, and suddenly, we are inside the landlords' house, and the lady is super sweet, directing us to the bomb shelter. We all squeeze in, five from upstairs, the dog, landlords and their adult son, sopping wet with just a towel between him and us. Awkward, but such is life.
The night air was clear, and we could hear sirens from the next city. We could hear the bombing and the fighting in Gaza. And it was so surreal...and sad...and terrifying. Which is how most days are now.
Yesterday, more sirens. Yagel got stuck twice in the car with the dog trying to buy our sweet puppy food. He had to park the car and bolt into a building with dog in tow (or was Yagel in tow? I'm not sure). His nerves were shot yesterday after that. I was in English lessons with two brothers, and my heart just broke watching them run frantically to the shelter. And we're both still exhausted from the late night bombings two nights ago.
On top of all of this, the FAA decided to ban all flights to and from Israel, and afterwards, many European carriers followed suit. For now, the ban is lifted, so I should be able to fly Saturday, but who knows. And now, my dad's surgery is postponed. Why? I'm not sure. So, essentially, Yagel and I are flying separately for now reason. If I fly. Does anyone else want to throw anything else into the mix to make my head a little more muddled?
And all of this while reading some of the most biased, uninformed, incorrect news stories, posts, and thoughts from people so far removed from this situation. It's not black and white. It's not simple. It's not Israel the aggressor and Gaza the pitiful. It's a nasty mix of innocent civilians everywhere being targeted by a terror organization, and a small country doing its best to defend itself and its civilians. There's an amazing blog here by Eitan Chitayat, an Israeli citizen, that I recommend all to read. I want to take two passages from his blog and post them here, because they sum it up so well:
"...we’re mass murderers? My country accepts an Egyptian-proposed Gaza cease-fire twice and Hamas keeps firing away. They aim rockets at civilians while we go at great lengths to avoid civilians actually calling them in their areas and dropping warning charges, to give innocents a chance to escape. That’s unprecedented in warfare history. We leave Gaza for a chance at peace 9 years ago and for 9 years we got rockets, hate education, underground tunnels built with the purpose of entering Israeli territory so radicals can murder and kidnap Jews? This is what we get for leaving Gaza unilaterally 9 years ago. And we’re mass murderers?"
Monday, July 21, 2014
Day 14 - The Sounds of War
A lot has developed since I last wrote. I'll be honest - with all the emotions, it has been very hard to sit down and write, and even now as I'm doing it, I'm having to force myself to keep writing. Thursday evening, Israel invaded Gaza on the ground after, again, Hamas broke a *humanitarian* ceasefire. The goal of this ground invasion is to uncover and neutralize the terror tunnels that wind their way into Israel from Gaza. Since the beginning of this operation, we've seen random terrorists pop up in Israeli territory, guns waving, ready to ambush and kill. We had no idea how intricate those tunnels were. Israel has uncovered more than 34 intricate, concrete lined tunnels that connect an entire underground Gaza. These tunnels are tall enough to walk through comfortably and are reinforced with concrete slabs. The IDF has found weapons of all kinds, even drugs and handcuffs that would be used to kidnap Israeli soldiers or civilians as a bargaining chip. These tunnels have gone so far into Israel that some even open up in kibbutzim, next to where people live. Let all of that sink in for a moment.
Friends, that's 9 years of Hamas being in charge of Gaza. Nine years of billions of dollars of aid, humanitarian aid (including concrete with which to build), and nine years to amass a stockpile of weapons and rockets from their dear friends in the Middle East. We do not have a built and secure Gaza. We have a rundown Gaza where rockets are hidden in schools, hospitals, mosques, and private homes. I'm sure you're not reading about that in the news. I'm sure no one is bringing up how absolutely insane and unheard of this terrain is. No one has ever fought a war like this. No country IN THE WORLD lives like Israel does, constantly scared of the next terrorist infiltrator who will try to blow up buses or murder anyone in their way, scared of the next round of rockets that will have us all scattering to bomb shelters, constantly bracing for the next wave of criticism from people who do not know what the hell they're talking about (the UN, the media, ignorant folk who hear an ounce of the story and think they know it all).
This is what has me so emotional. No one understands what is happening. I don't even understand what is happening. It tears my heart apart that so many innocent people are dying, and now so many young soldiers, as well. For what? Because Hamas, the cowardly, evil beings that they are, has embattled and conquered a people, implanted their war amongst the innocents, and continues to operate for the sole purpose of removing Israel from the map. How does anyone deal with that?
While I am critical of Israel, I stand behind her 100%. This can't keep going on. We can't keep living like this. Anti-tank missiles being shot from a house window that killed 7 soldiers. Houses booby trapped with explosives. ROCKETS IN SCHOOLS AND PLAYGROUNDS. And people who are too scared to leave, too tired to leave, too frustrated to leave, too numb to leave. I'm so angry at this whole situation. As I said on Facebook, fuck you, Hamas. If anyone is looking to point fingers, all roads lead to those evil, cowardly bastards.
Sounds of war? Rocket sirens that have caught my boyfriend in his car twice in less than 24 hours. Loud booms that interrupt my English lessons. Helicopters flying over head, surely with the wounded and dead soldiers pouring out of Gaza. What is Hamas doing for its wounded and dead? They asked for another humanitarian ceasefire yesterday, and again, they broke it. It was just for two fucking hours! What has Israel done? In the midst of all this, Israel has built a field hospital next to the heaviest fighting to CARE FOR THE PALESTINIANS. On top of all that Israel does to care for its citizens.
The country is united in mourning, holding its breath to see what will happen next. So many of my friends have had their boyfriends called to reserve duty. They're sitting on the Gaza border, waiting for orders. Other friends have been recruited to take over jobs to free up more soldiers. At least four people from work are in miluim (Israeli reserves), with many more to be called, we're sure. My boyfriend's brother is an officer, and we're just praying that he doesn't get reassigned from his current position.
School is on hold. We haven't even finished our finals, and it doesn't seem as if we will anytime soon. Work is empty and hours are limited. People's kids are cooped up inside all day, when they should be enjoying their summer vacation. We're constantly on the lookout of where to run if there is a rocket attack. Every second. How weird is it to constantly ask your boyfriend, "Hey, where do we run?" But that's what's happening. On edge. Angry. Confused. Stretched to the limit. All of that, and I'm trying to finish things up and leave the country for my father's surgery. I'm a zombie-like mess. Scared to leave my boyfriend and friends in this situation. Scared for my father's health. Scared to fly by myself. Scared of what will be when I return.
That's what is going on in my head. Sorry if it's all over the place.
Am Yisrael Chai.
Friends, that's 9 years of Hamas being in charge of Gaza. Nine years of billions of dollars of aid, humanitarian aid (including concrete with which to build), and nine years to amass a stockpile of weapons and rockets from their dear friends in the Middle East. We do not have a built and secure Gaza. We have a rundown Gaza where rockets are hidden in schools, hospitals, mosques, and private homes. I'm sure you're not reading about that in the news. I'm sure no one is bringing up how absolutely insane and unheard of this terrain is. No one has ever fought a war like this. No country IN THE WORLD lives like Israel does, constantly scared of the next terrorist infiltrator who will try to blow up buses or murder anyone in their way, scared of the next round of rockets that will have us all scattering to bomb shelters, constantly bracing for the next wave of criticism from people who do not know what the hell they're talking about (the UN, the media, ignorant folk who hear an ounce of the story and think they know it all).
This is what has me so emotional. No one understands what is happening. I don't even understand what is happening. It tears my heart apart that so many innocent people are dying, and now so many young soldiers, as well. For what? Because Hamas, the cowardly, evil beings that they are, has embattled and conquered a people, implanted their war amongst the innocents, and continues to operate for the sole purpose of removing Israel from the map. How does anyone deal with that?
While I am critical of Israel, I stand behind her 100%. This can't keep going on. We can't keep living like this. Anti-tank missiles being shot from a house window that killed 7 soldiers. Houses booby trapped with explosives. ROCKETS IN SCHOOLS AND PLAYGROUNDS. And people who are too scared to leave, too tired to leave, too frustrated to leave, too numb to leave. I'm so angry at this whole situation. As I said on Facebook, fuck you, Hamas. If anyone is looking to point fingers, all roads lead to those evil, cowardly bastards.
Sounds of war? Rocket sirens that have caught my boyfriend in his car twice in less than 24 hours. Loud booms that interrupt my English lessons. Helicopters flying over head, surely with the wounded and dead soldiers pouring out of Gaza. What is Hamas doing for its wounded and dead? They asked for another humanitarian ceasefire yesterday, and again, they broke it. It was just for two fucking hours! What has Israel done? In the midst of all this, Israel has built a field hospital next to the heaviest fighting to CARE FOR THE PALESTINIANS. On top of all that Israel does to care for its citizens.
The country is united in mourning, holding its breath to see what will happen next. So many of my friends have had their boyfriends called to reserve duty. They're sitting on the Gaza border, waiting for orders. Other friends have been recruited to take over jobs to free up more soldiers. At least four people from work are in miluim (Israeli reserves), with many more to be called, we're sure. My boyfriend's brother is an officer, and we're just praying that he doesn't get reassigned from his current position.
School is on hold. We haven't even finished our finals, and it doesn't seem as if we will anytime soon. Work is empty and hours are limited. People's kids are cooped up inside all day, when they should be enjoying their summer vacation. We're constantly on the lookout of where to run if there is a rocket attack. Every second. How weird is it to constantly ask your boyfriend, "Hey, where do we run?" But that's what's happening. On edge. Angry. Confused. Stretched to the limit. All of that, and I'm trying to finish things up and leave the country for my father's surgery. I'm a zombie-like mess. Scared to leave my boyfriend and friends in this situation. Scared for my father's health. Scared to fly by myself. Scared of what will be when I return.
That's what is going on in my head. Sorry if it's all over the place.
Am Yisrael Chai.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Pictures of Rocket Fire from Gaza
In case you were questioning whether rocket fire really does come from civilian areas in Gaza, here's some photographic evidence. The beginning points of these rockets look to be smack in the middle of a city. The majority of these are from Gaza City and can be found on the Times of Israel website.
Day 9 - Back to the "Norm"
Well, we are still at war. What happened with that ceasefire yesterday? It was brokered by Egypt, and while Israel honored the ceasefire from 9am until 3pm, Hamas did not at all. They rejected it, and it's come out that part of this rejection is because they didn't get the full story from Egypt. Who knows why. End of story, we do not have a ceasefire, rockets are still flying, and we are back to the routine of war, i.e. summer camps are still closed, shopping centers are closing early, and a lot of people are not going to work at all.
Which reminds me of a story that I must share with you from last evening at work. I've discussed this, I work at a large clothing store here in Be'er Sheva. Dealing with Israeli customers requires a special kind of patience, and while I have learned a lot (my Hebrew has gotten spectacular!), I'm turning quite confrontational and assertive...in Hebrew. So, what happened yesterday? The fireworks had started (I thought there was a siren earlier in the evening when there wasn't, and I sent people to the bomb shelter...whoops), and another siren came to greet us. I locked up everything I needed to and started for the shelter. Then, I see three women just casually going about their shopping experience, trying on clothes in the fitting room. I explain to them that there is a siren and that they need to come now. How did they answer? No, no, we'll just stay here and keep trying on clothes. Seriously? What did I tell you? I answered, maybe you didn't understand but you can't stay here and you need to come now! No, no, we're fineeeee. Ladies, we don't have time for this...let's go NOW. And very, very, veeeeeerrrrrrrryyyyyyy slowly, they sauntered to the bomb shelter. In my LIFE, I've never seen such self-centered behavior. Why in the world do I want to put my life in danger while you continue on your fun? So, please, Israeli public, during this trying and dangerous time, LISTEN to instructions from those around you. I fear for the next customer who does not listen to me...
So, where does that leave us? That leaves us still in the middle of a confusing and scary conflict. Sadly, Israeli had its first death due to rocket fire yesterday, a father who was bringing food and water to the soldiers stationed on the border with Gaza. Rocket attacks are striking in houses and schools and in cities with more accuracy. I'm not sure if this is accuracy or if after so many rockets, the statistical average increases the possibility of direct hits.
We are all shaken. I see that on people's faces. I hear it in people's voices. We're just not here. My poor dog barks wildly at the rockets, thinking, I guess, that he can catch them or that he's protecting us from them. Israel has even changed the sound of ambulance and police sirens to not resemble that of rocket sirens in order to not cause more panic in the public.
What is going on here? I'm feeling more incoherent by the minute, and unfortunately for me, I have three papers to write and a lot of business to wrap up before I fly to the States in a week and a half. The stress of my father's upcoming surgery is weighing on me, as he is the most special man in this world, and I love him with every inch of my being. I am such a lucky girl for having the parents that I do.
This stress is compounded by the news that I got from my doctor yesterday. I have been checking out my back because of extreme back pain recently (it's been on going for about three years), and I started physical therapy two weeks ago. I also did a simple x-ray on Monday and the results show that because of trauma to a disc in my lower back, two vertebrae are bone to bone rubbing together. I'm making an emergency appointment today with an orthopedic specialist in order to get a clear diagnosis and treatment plan. Not fun. And my doctor ordered me not to run, ride a bicycle, bend, jump, stand for a long period of time, lift things...etc. and etc. That means not even running for a bomb shelter until I know what is going on, since after my running episodes last week, I was incapacitated by pain. That adds a different aspect to my time outside, knowing that running is not an option. I'm not looking forward to laying on the ground and covering my head.
Wow...a ton of rockets were just sent to Tel Aviv. Wonder when our turn is today? That's all for now. I've got to try to write these papers! Have a safe day, friends.
Which reminds me of a story that I must share with you from last evening at work. I've discussed this, I work at a large clothing store here in Be'er Sheva. Dealing with Israeli customers requires a special kind of patience, and while I have learned a lot (my Hebrew has gotten spectacular!), I'm turning quite confrontational and assertive...in Hebrew. So, what happened yesterday? The fireworks had started (I thought there was a siren earlier in the evening when there wasn't, and I sent people to the bomb shelter...whoops), and another siren came to greet us. I locked up everything I needed to and started for the shelter. Then, I see three women just casually going about their shopping experience, trying on clothes in the fitting room. I explain to them that there is a siren and that they need to come now. How did they answer? No, no, we'll just stay here and keep trying on clothes. Seriously? What did I tell you? I answered, maybe you didn't understand but you can't stay here and you need to come now! No, no, we're fineeeee. Ladies, we don't have time for this...let's go NOW. And very, very, veeeeeerrrrrrrryyyyyyy slowly, they sauntered to the bomb shelter. In my LIFE, I've never seen such self-centered behavior. Why in the world do I want to put my life in danger while you continue on your fun? So, please, Israeli public, during this trying and dangerous time, LISTEN to instructions from those around you. I fear for the next customer who does not listen to me...
So, where does that leave us? That leaves us still in the middle of a confusing and scary conflict. Sadly, Israeli had its first death due to rocket fire yesterday, a father who was bringing food and water to the soldiers stationed on the border with Gaza. Rocket attacks are striking in houses and schools and in cities with more accuracy. I'm not sure if this is accuracy or if after so many rockets, the statistical average increases the possibility of direct hits.
We are all shaken. I see that on people's faces. I hear it in people's voices. We're just not here. My poor dog barks wildly at the rockets, thinking, I guess, that he can catch them or that he's protecting us from them. Israel has even changed the sound of ambulance and police sirens to not resemble that of rocket sirens in order to not cause more panic in the public.
What is going on here? I'm feeling more incoherent by the minute, and unfortunately for me, I have three papers to write and a lot of business to wrap up before I fly to the States in a week and a half. The stress of my father's upcoming surgery is weighing on me, as he is the most special man in this world, and I love him with every inch of my being. I am such a lucky girl for having the parents that I do.
This stress is compounded by the news that I got from my doctor yesterday. I have been checking out my back because of extreme back pain recently (it's been on going for about three years), and I started physical therapy two weeks ago. I also did a simple x-ray on Monday and the results show that because of trauma to a disc in my lower back, two vertebrae are bone to bone rubbing together. I'm making an emergency appointment today with an orthopedic specialist in order to get a clear diagnosis and treatment plan. Not fun. And my doctor ordered me not to run, ride a bicycle, bend, jump, stand for a long period of time, lift things...etc. and etc. That means not even running for a bomb shelter until I know what is going on, since after my running episodes last week, I was incapacitated by pain. That adds a different aspect to my time outside, knowing that running is not an option. I'm not looking forward to laying on the ground and covering my head.
Wow...a ton of rockets were just sent to Tel Aviv. Wonder when our turn is today? That's all for now. I've got to try to write these papers! Have a safe day, friends.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Day 8 - Possible Ceasefire?
In about 7 minutes, we are supposed to find out if Hamas and Israel both agree to a ceasefire proposed by Egypt. Who knows if the sides will agree. And if they do, won't this whole horrible nightmare just be repeated in about a year and a half? That's what happened last time. I don't know what to think about it all.
So, while we are waiting to find out what will happen, I wanted to share with you some of the pictures that I took along this operation, now in its 8th day. A lot of them are pictures of headlines that struck me as...wow.
So, while we are waiting to find out what will happen, I wanted to share with you some of the pictures that I took along this operation, now in its 8th day. A lot of them are pictures of headlines that struck me as...wow.
The middle headline is super interesting: "Hamas to Beersheba 'settlers': Run before it's too late." Lol no one wants to live in the middle of the desert...we just built an oasis here that everyone is envious of ;)
This was the news on the afternoon of the first day of this chaos.
This is a very true statement - we were terrified, and that's how Hamas works. They play with your sanity, which is the goal of terror. This is from the second day, July 9th.
This is the community bomb shelter behind my apartment. I was interested to see the door unlocked and open. There are lights inside, and the shelter goes down about three flights of stairs to be very much under the ground.
The temporary potty in the bomb shelter at work. I didn't see any toilet paper around.
Girlfriends at work. No one was shopping, no one was at the mall. And we were just quivering waiting on the next siren. Had to have some fun.
Attack after attack after attack.
Planning our walks with the dog to be close to bomb shelters. We plotted out a nice walk that takes us by three shelters.
Trying to continue living our life normally, so here we are sitting in the community park by our house with the calming water and pretty lights. After relaxing a bit, we got up and left, and about two minutes later, there was a rocket siren. Normal, eh?
So, we've reached 9:15am and still no final word on the ceasefire. Israel is holding up to the ceasefire as of 9:00am, but still no word from Hamas. No rockets...yet. The news commentator is saying that the next few hours are critical to find out whether the ceasefire will hold or not. Great, of course I would have to get out of the house in the next hour. I'll keep you all posted.
PS My assumptions is that the ceasefire will not hold. Hamas is big into theatrics, and they like huge finales. Last night was quiet, and this morning has been very tame, with only a few rockets to the area around Gaza. I hope my prediction is wrong, but I don't see Hamas laying down in such a quiet way.
Monday, July 14, 2014
The Politics of It All...
This is a post that needs to be written but which I am having a very hard time writing, possibly because it's complicated, confusing, and for most, it tears you in a lot of directions. But, I'll give it a try.
Disclaimer: I am open to other opinions. These that I present here, they come from my experience living here in Israel, from my feelings in this particular situation, and from the research I have done. I'm not saying that I am right AT ALL. So, please, feel free to disagree, but let's say from the beginning, that any disagreement will be done respectfully and tastefully.
I'm going to assume that those reading have a bit of an idea behind the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. What I will say, in a nut shell, is that no one remembers who shot the first shot long long ago, who did the first wrong thing. Simply, both sides continue doing the wrong thing, and we're getting nowhere. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result, which is a good perspective of the situation here. Of course, it's much more complicated than that - there is an aspect of self-defense on the Israeli side, the aspect of pure, legitimate anger on the Palestinian side, a terror organization in the government in Gaza...ain't nothing here black and white. But simply, there is a country called Israel that does exist, and there needs to be a country called Palestine that will exist. Neither will or should go away.
Let's focus in on the current situation. As I prefaced in my first war-related post a week ago, events started escalating with the kidnapping and murder of three Israeli teens. Arguably, these tensions from the Palestinian side came because of yet another round of failed peace talks.
Side note: If these governments would listen to the general, sane population, a lot of people on both sides want peace, want two states, want to be able to co-exist. It's terribly sad that politics and money must get in the way of that.
So, Israel discovered the bodies of the teens, still hasn't found the killers, and the whole country entered into mourning. These kids were from the settler community. For those who don't know, there is a large part of Eastern Israel (West Bank, some call it Judea and Samaria) that is designated to be the future Palestinian state. A majority of Palestinians live there, but there is a faction of the Israeli population, Religious Nationalists, who believe that all of the land is Israel's and that it is unacceptable to give it up. So, they have created, with the help of various Israeli governments, settlements in the middle of the West Bank. Warning, I'm going to give a personal opinion. I do not agree with the majority of these settlements. I think they are a roadblock to peace, and I think continuing their construction is just putting Israel in a more dangerous place. More settlements = more money spent on defending and securing them, more tensions from both sides, and just more to sort out in the end. It is also important to point out here the racism and extremism that many (not all!) settlers portray. They will fight Israeli Defense Forces (IDF from here on out), who are there to protect them, they take part in "Price Tag" vandalism and attacks (look it up), and they incite hatred for their Palestinian neighbors. Again, not all are like this, but it sure does tear my heart apart to see these behaviors from my fellow Jews.
A group of Jewish extremists, not clear which from my limited research, then kidnapped and burned a Palestinian teen alive. It's still hard to type that, as I'm just filled with disgust. This same group tried to kidnap a 9 year old Palestinian the day before to presumably do the same thing. After this happened, very basically, all hell broke loose. Riots broke out. Stones and Molotov cocktails were thrown. These happened in the West Bank and Gaza, but also in Arab towns in Israel. This unrest was the cue for Hamas in Gaza to start its antics again (unrelenting and sporadic rocket fire on Israel).
Let's pause here to discuss Hamas. Friends, Hamas is a terror organization, plain and simple. They came to power in the Gaza Strip after Israel pulled out of that land area in 2005. Not going to get into why they came to power, but while they say they were elected democratically, I find it hard to believe that some form of terror and coercion were not involved. They are a terror organization, after all. So, Hamas is in power in Gaza, and they work around the clock to amass rockets and missiles and weapons. They dig smuggling tunnels to bring in these things and tunnels into Israel to commit terror attacks. They get special weapons from Iran. That's scary. I will very briefly touch on the blockade of Gaza that has so many people in a roar. There is a blockade on Gaza simply because while, yes, they want to bring in humanitarian aid, they also want to bring in supplies to make homemade rockets. And that's what really tears my stomach open about Hamas. Gaza gets so much financial aid from all over the world. Gaza gets humanitarian aid, also from Israel, and also from many other countries in the world. What does Hamas, the head of the government in Gaza, do with this money? Presumably, they fund terror. In Gaza, there are no bomb shelters. The roads are not up-kept. Hospitals and schools are sub-par. So why not use that money to take care of Gaza's citizens? Because, my friends, that would be going against what Hamas is all about. Hamas believes that Israel should not exist and that every Jew should die.
So, let's talk about the current situation. Israel is dealing with tens of rocket attacks a day (it can be more, depending on Hamas' mood, I suppose, like when we had 25 in 7 minutes here in BS last week - two houses have been destroyed in BS since the beginning of this war). What happens here when there is a rocket or missile coming our way, a siren sounds, and depending on your distance from Gaza, you have a set amount of time to find shelter. Where I live, we have a minute. Where a lot of people live, they only have 15 seconds. Just time what all you can do in 15 seconds, and then think about if you had to run for your life. Okay, so when we hear these sirens, we know that we have a few options. Neighborhoods and buildings all over have community bomb shelters. Theoretically, they should be spaced so that people have enough time to get there. Some people are fortunate enough to have bomb shelters in their houses that often double as bedrooms or offices. Any new buildings must have one of these, as per law in Israel. Last options, and least favorable, if you are outside and cannot get to a shelter or if you're driving, you can lay flat on the ground and cover your head because, other than a direct hit which no one would survive, when a rocket hits, its shrapnel travels upward in a V-shape and laying flat will keep you out of the line of fire. And, arguably, we all know to do this. We don't want to be in the way of a rocket. Also, the sense of camaraderie is intense during these times. People help people because in the end, we're all one big family.
If the rocket is detected to be going towards a populated area, the anti-missile defense system called Iron Dome, will send a missile to intercept the rocket and detonate it in mid-air. This is one of the reasons why we are instructed to stay in our safe places for ten minutes, because shrapnel can still be falling from the explosion. Also, if a lot of rockets are shot at once from different areas in Gaza, it's possible that it will take longer than a minute to get here. There won't be extra sirens, but it's smart to wait it out.
Why did I go into such detail about what we do during an attack? Because I wanted to illustrate how important it is for us and for our country that we stay safe. Bomb shelters are mandatory. The news is filled every few minutes with IDF officers explaining again and again what to do during an attack. Commercials advertise what to do. The radio and TV stations broadcast real time alerts. Life is a very important thing here in Israel, and we do all we can to preserve it. As of now, only two people in Israel have died, two older women who died from the stress and overexertion of trying to get to a bomb shelter in time. There are many people hurt, some critically, from shrapnel, from a gas station explosion after a direct hit. But for the most part, we're intact.
Now, Gaza. Gaza is coping with hundreds of Israeli Air Force attacks a day. Around 160 people, civilians included, have died since the beginning of this. This is sad. This is unfortunate. There's nothing more to say. However, let's focus in how Hamas operates. Hamas stores their weapons in civilian communities, i.e. schools, hospitals, civilian houses, etc. Hamas also encourages civilians to act as a human shield for buildings that house these Hamas infrastructures. According to traditional rules of war, striking civilian houses is totally off limits. This, however, is an unprecedented type of war with Hamas' cowardly tactics. Israel, for her credit, tries many tactics to lessen the loss of life, including "knocking on the roof" which is where a non-explosive bomb is thrown on top of the house to warn the inhabitants to leave, giving them a minute or more to evacuate (hey, that's more time than we have to get to a shelter!), dropping leaflets explaining that Hamas is being targeted and to please not be in the area with Hamas, phone calls to warn civilians, and stopping an attack all together when civilians are spotted or it is learned that a house or a school or something is located within the radius (sometimes, this information is learned too late). These things don't always work. I've read many sad accounts where, too, Hamas has encouraged its citizens not to listen to Israeli warnings, even ordering them not to evacuate. Also, remember, Gaza doesn't have a siren system in place or bomb shelters for residents. In reality, nothing is done to safe guard residents of Gaza in times of war. And let's not be naive, there is constantly war here.
I don't have an answer about how to better this situation. I don't know how to stop so many from dying. It's painful, and it just plants more hatred and pushes us farther from peace. I just don't know what to do.
I am angry from this whole mess. I am angry at Hamas for doing what it does, to its citizens and to us. I am terrified by these constant rocket attacks. I am angry at the Israeli government for not being a better partner for peace. I want it to stop. My challenge for you is to put yourself on both sides of the situation. What would you do as a Gazan? You'd probably be pretty pissed and full of hate for Israel, and you'd probably be pretty pissed at your government in Hamas for constantly making this a reality (although a lot of people are fed hatred from an early age, and I fear that many aren't at a place where they are capable of being angry at Hamas). What would you do as an Israeli? You would probably be pretty pissed at Hamas for constantly putting you and your loved ones on edge and in danger. You'd be pissed at your Israeli government for not finding a better solution to ending this mess (every like year and a half, another war breaks out with Hamas to combat the constant rocket fire). You'd be pretty hopeless and confused (although, as with Gazans, a lot of Israelis are so encumbered with the length of this mess that their patience is gone and their ideas of Palestinians are not going to change, grouping Hamas members with all Palestinians). It's tough.
To sum up, this situation is not simple. It has me pulled in many different directions. The amount of hate speech from both sides is discouraging and painful. There are many groups of people who are trying for peace. I follow a lot of great groups on Facebook, like Israel Loves Palestine, Palestine Loves Israel, Iran Loves Israel...etc. and etc. Most are from a movement called the Peace Factory. I believe in it, and I see enough people involved that it keeps some hope alive. I hope that those of us motivated for change can make it happen.
So, let the reactions fly. That's my point of view. I hope it has helped. Stay safe.
Disclaimer: I am open to other opinions. These that I present here, they come from my experience living here in Israel, from my feelings in this particular situation, and from the research I have done. I'm not saying that I am right AT ALL. So, please, feel free to disagree, but let's say from the beginning, that any disagreement will be done respectfully and tastefully.
I'm going to assume that those reading have a bit of an idea behind the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. What I will say, in a nut shell, is that no one remembers who shot the first shot long long ago, who did the first wrong thing. Simply, both sides continue doing the wrong thing, and we're getting nowhere. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result, which is a good perspective of the situation here. Of course, it's much more complicated than that - there is an aspect of self-defense on the Israeli side, the aspect of pure, legitimate anger on the Palestinian side, a terror organization in the government in Gaza...ain't nothing here black and white. But simply, there is a country called Israel that does exist, and there needs to be a country called Palestine that will exist. Neither will or should go away.
Let's focus in on the current situation. As I prefaced in my first war-related post a week ago, events started escalating with the kidnapping and murder of three Israeli teens. Arguably, these tensions from the Palestinian side came because of yet another round of failed peace talks.
Side note: If these governments would listen to the general, sane population, a lot of people on both sides want peace, want two states, want to be able to co-exist. It's terribly sad that politics and money must get in the way of that.
So, Israel discovered the bodies of the teens, still hasn't found the killers, and the whole country entered into mourning. These kids were from the settler community. For those who don't know, there is a large part of Eastern Israel (West Bank, some call it Judea and Samaria) that is designated to be the future Palestinian state. A majority of Palestinians live there, but there is a faction of the Israeli population, Religious Nationalists, who believe that all of the land is Israel's and that it is unacceptable to give it up. So, they have created, with the help of various Israeli governments, settlements in the middle of the West Bank. Warning, I'm going to give a personal opinion. I do not agree with the majority of these settlements. I think they are a roadblock to peace, and I think continuing their construction is just putting Israel in a more dangerous place. More settlements = more money spent on defending and securing them, more tensions from both sides, and just more to sort out in the end. It is also important to point out here the racism and extremism that many (not all!) settlers portray. They will fight Israeli Defense Forces (IDF from here on out), who are there to protect them, they take part in "Price Tag" vandalism and attacks (look it up), and they incite hatred for their Palestinian neighbors. Again, not all are like this, but it sure does tear my heart apart to see these behaviors from my fellow Jews.
A group of Jewish extremists, not clear which from my limited research, then kidnapped and burned a Palestinian teen alive. It's still hard to type that, as I'm just filled with disgust. This same group tried to kidnap a 9 year old Palestinian the day before to presumably do the same thing. After this happened, very basically, all hell broke loose. Riots broke out. Stones and Molotov cocktails were thrown. These happened in the West Bank and Gaza, but also in Arab towns in Israel. This unrest was the cue for Hamas in Gaza to start its antics again (unrelenting and sporadic rocket fire on Israel).
Let's pause here to discuss Hamas. Friends, Hamas is a terror organization, plain and simple. They came to power in the Gaza Strip after Israel pulled out of that land area in 2005. Not going to get into why they came to power, but while they say they were elected democratically, I find it hard to believe that some form of terror and coercion were not involved. They are a terror organization, after all. So, Hamas is in power in Gaza, and they work around the clock to amass rockets and missiles and weapons. They dig smuggling tunnels to bring in these things and tunnels into Israel to commit terror attacks. They get special weapons from Iran. That's scary. I will very briefly touch on the blockade of Gaza that has so many people in a roar. There is a blockade on Gaza simply because while, yes, they want to bring in humanitarian aid, they also want to bring in supplies to make homemade rockets. And that's what really tears my stomach open about Hamas. Gaza gets so much financial aid from all over the world. Gaza gets humanitarian aid, also from Israel, and also from many other countries in the world. What does Hamas, the head of the government in Gaza, do with this money? Presumably, they fund terror. In Gaza, there are no bomb shelters. The roads are not up-kept. Hospitals and schools are sub-par. So why not use that money to take care of Gaza's citizens? Because, my friends, that would be going against what Hamas is all about. Hamas believes that Israel should not exist and that every Jew should die.
So, let's talk about the current situation. Israel is dealing with tens of rocket attacks a day (it can be more, depending on Hamas' mood, I suppose, like when we had 25 in 7 minutes here in BS last week - two houses have been destroyed in BS since the beginning of this war). What happens here when there is a rocket or missile coming our way, a siren sounds, and depending on your distance from Gaza, you have a set amount of time to find shelter. Where I live, we have a minute. Where a lot of people live, they only have 15 seconds. Just time what all you can do in 15 seconds, and then think about if you had to run for your life. Okay, so when we hear these sirens, we know that we have a few options. Neighborhoods and buildings all over have community bomb shelters. Theoretically, they should be spaced so that people have enough time to get there. Some people are fortunate enough to have bomb shelters in their houses that often double as bedrooms or offices. Any new buildings must have one of these, as per law in Israel. Last options, and least favorable, if you are outside and cannot get to a shelter or if you're driving, you can lay flat on the ground and cover your head because, other than a direct hit which no one would survive, when a rocket hits, its shrapnel travels upward in a V-shape and laying flat will keep you out of the line of fire. And, arguably, we all know to do this. We don't want to be in the way of a rocket. Also, the sense of camaraderie is intense during these times. People help people because in the end, we're all one big family.
If the rocket is detected to be going towards a populated area, the anti-missile defense system called Iron Dome, will send a missile to intercept the rocket and detonate it in mid-air. This is one of the reasons why we are instructed to stay in our safe places for ten minutes, because shrapnel can still be falling from the explosion. Also, if a lot of rockets are shot at once from different areas in Gaza, it's possible that it will take longer than a minute to get here. There won't be extra sirens, but it's smart to wait it out.
Why did I go into such detail about what we do during an attack? Because I wanted to illustrate how important it is for us and for our country that we stay safe. Bomb shelters are mandatory. The news is filled every few minutes with IDF officers explaining again and again what to do during an attack. Commercials advertise what to do. The radio and TV stations broadcast real time alerts. Life is a very important thing here in Israel, and we do all we can to preserve it. As of now, only two people in Israel have died, two older women who died from the stress and overexertion of trying to get to a bomb shelter in time. There are many people hurt, some critically, from shrapnel, from a gas station explosion after a direct hit. But for the most part, we're intact.
Now, Gaza. Gaza is coping with hundreds of Israeli Air Force attacks a day. Around 160 people, civilians included, have died since the beginning of this. This is sad. This is unfortunate. There's nothing more to say. However, let's focus in how Hamas operates. Hamas stores their weapons in civilian communities, i.e. schools, hospitals, civilian houses, etc. Hamas also encourages civilians to act as a human shield for buildings that house these Hamas infrastructures. According to traditional rules of war, striking civilian houses is totally off limits. This, however, is an unprecedented type of war with Hamas' cowardly tactics. Israel, for her credit, tries many tactics to lessen the loss of life, including "knocking on the roof" which is where a non-explosive bomb is thrown on top of the house to warn the inhabitants to leave, giving them a minute or more to evacuate (hey, that's more time than we have to get to a shelter!), dropping leaflets explaining that Hamas is being targeted and to please not be in the area with Hamas, phone calls to warn civilians, and stopping an attack all together when civilians are spotted or it is learned that a house or a school or something is located within the radius (sometimes, this information is learned too late). These things don't always work. I've read many sad accounts where, too, Hamas has encouraged its citizens not to listen to Israeli warnings, even ordering them not to evacuate. Also, remember, Gaza doesn't have a siren system in place or bomb shelters for residents. In reality, nothing is done to safe guard residents of Gaza in times of war. And let's not be naive, there is constantly war here.
I don't have an answer about how to better this situation. I don't know how to stop so many from dying. It's painful, and it just plants more hatred and pushes us farther from peace. I just don't know what to do.
I am angry from this whole mess. I am angry at Hamas for doing what it does, to its citizens and to us. I am terrified by these constant rocket attacks. I am angry at the Israeli government for not being a better partner for peace. I want it to stop. My challenge for you is to put yourself on both sides of the situation. What would you do as a Gazan? You'd probably be pretty pissed and full of hate for Israel, and you'd probably be pretty pissed at your government in Hamas for constantly making this a reality (although a lot of people are fed hatred from an early age, and I fear that many aren't at a place where they are capable of being angry at Hamas). What would you do as an Israeli? You would probably be pretty pissed at Hamas for constantly putting you and your loved ones on edge and in danger. You'd be pissed at your Israeli government for not finding a better solution to ending this mess (every like year and a half, another war breaks out with Hamas to combat the constant rocket fire). You'd be pretty hopeless and confused (although, as with Gazans, a lot of Israelis are so encumbered with the length of this mess that their patience is gone and their ideas of Palestinians are not going to change, grouping Hamas members with all Palestinians). It's tough.
To sum up, this situation is not simple. It has me pulled in many different directions. The amount of hate speech from both sides is discouraging and painful. There are many groups of people who are trying for peace. I follow a lot of great groups on Facebook, like Israel Loves Palestine, Palestine Loves Israel, Iran Loves Israel...etc. and etc. Most are from a movement called the Peace Factory. I believe in it, and I see enough people involved that it keeps some hope alive. I hope that those of us motivated for change can make it happen.
So, let the reactions fly. That's my point of view. I hope it has helped. Stay safe.
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