Tag Archives: feelings

by | February 2, 2021 · 5:00 am

It’s Been a Year…

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February, 2021!  It’s so hard to believe almost a year has passed since the pandemic changed the world forever.  A year of worry.  A year of frustration.  A year of separation from my son and other cherished friends and family.  A year watching out my window.  A year adapting.  A year waiting.  A year hoping.  A year learning. 

I still wait for my turn to be vaccinated. I still worry about getting sick. I’m still frustrated about so much lost time. I still wait for the next visit with my son. I still look out my window at the changing seasons. I’m still adapting, learning, hoping, trying to look forward.

To say I am not a patient person is REALLY an understatement. From my earliest memories I recall barreling into life at full speed, always in a hurry to get to the next thing. This past year has felt like I ran smack into a wall. I know I’m not alone in this, so I’m not complaining, per se.  I’m just reflecting. Is there a deeper lesson to be learned?  The obvious is what I hear most folks are trying to do: live in the moment, be grateful, savor a slower pace.  Yeah, yeah, yeah…whatever.

Here’s what I’m learning: I am not a slowdown type of person. Yes, I am savoring the time I get to spend with my husband who is working from home and my son who is attending graduate school from home.  But most days I just want to get back out there, in it. While I have managed to continue my work and to stay in touch with many of my friends, I can’t help but grieve for all the lost time.  The days, weeks, months and now, a year, just marking time. I can’t shake the feeling that, at my age, there’s no time to waste. I still have plans, goals and things to get on with. Grateful?  Of course I am!  I’m also very aware of how fortunate I am to have a job, a comfortable home in which to stay safe with people I love and who love me.  Yes, life is good.

Now there seems to be, maybe, a speck of daylight at the end of this very long tunnel. And…I’m off!  Planning a fall vacation with friends. Thinking about dinners out, live music, sporting events and having people over. Every day is a roller coaster as I swing from despair to hope and back again. Read the news. Don’t read the news. By bedtime I am exhausted, that is until my head hits the pillow. Then as my body relaxes my mind revs up and I lay awake, sometimes for hours, until I can calm it down.

This year has shined a light on the differences between me and my husband. Where I am an extrovert, he is content to be alone. Where I experience life at full speed, he is happy with the slow and steady approach. While I rage against the frustration, his patience is both infuriating and a gift. And while I toss and turn all night, he sleeps soundly. All these differences, which used to drive me crazy, have now become my salvation. To know that in spite of it all, or maybe because of it, we continue on. I can depend on his patience, his ability to compartmentalize the pain and focus on what is in front of him. I am comforted by his strength and by his steady breathing at night. 

Lessons learned? My basic nature is what it always has been, and so it is for those around me. But in times of great challenge, we can lean into and on each other, for real.

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the Editor of The Jewish Observer of Nashville, and a former small business owner.  Barbara loves writing, telling stories of real people and real events and most of all, talking to people all over the world.  The Jewish Observer newspaper can be read online at www.jewishobservernashville.org .

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by | May 5, 2020 · 5:00 am

Pandemic Overload

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Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Okay everyone, I am about to unleash a whole pile of emotions surrounding the COVID-19 pandemic and the new “Safe-at-home,” lifestyle we’re all now living. I say, “lifestyle,” because as far as I can see, life as I knew it is officially over. Yes, we will eventually leave our homes and go back to work, to shop, to gather in small groups and maybe even larger ones. But honestly, can anyone imagine that our pre-pandemic life is out there somewhere, waiting for us? Will we ever think the same way about a cough, a sneeze, a fever? Will we ever not think that the stranger next to us in line at Starbucks might be carrying a virus? Will we ever hug someone who does not live in our house without asking for permission? Will we ever forget that for a time we were confined to our homes, isolated from our children, grandchildren, siblings, friends and extended family? Will I ever erase the images of people dying alone in a hospital with only a doctor or nurse for comfort?

For most of the last couple of months, I have cycled through the stages of grief over and over. From shock, to denial, to bargaining, anger and acceptance and back again, sometimes not even in that order. I’ve observed the social media accounts of people I know, and don’t know, who seem to be enjoying this time as some sort of staycation. And yes, everyone copes differently. I suppose if my children were young and needed to be schooled, entertained and otherwise taught the lessons that are part and parcel of this historic time, I’d also find the wherewithal to be a good model. But honestly, I just can’t seem to shake the grief and despair that I carry all day and most of the night. My usual exuberant energy feels dampened, my sunny outlook is overshadowed by sadness and my heart literally feels heavy.

I read once that trauma can be characterized as splitting life into two parts: life before the occurrence and life after. I believe our world is experiencing one giant collective trauma that will forever divide our lives in two. There will undoubtedly be other traumas that come along and supersede this one, much like my parents’ generation defined life before the Great Depression and life after and then, life before World War II and life after. And on and on and on…I. Hate. It.

Are there lessons to be learned from this crisis? Good that will come from all the deaths, the risks on the part of first responders and others who face danger everyday delivering essential goods and services? Who knows? There are those who believe this is some sort of cosmic payback for our collective bad behavior and disrespect of each other and our planet. Some believe this is nature’s way of thinning the herd and cleansing our overpopulated world. Some even believe this is all a hoax perpetrated by one political party or the other, one government or another, this or that corporate giant. I have become distrustful of most of the information I hear or read. There are a few sources I rely on, but I’m often skeptical of even those.

So how does all of this stack up for me? I still don’t know. Every day is different. I’m working on finding some peace, but it’s a struggle. I dread leaving my house, but when I do, I feel a bit better. As for some sort of deeper meaning, I just can’t see it, but maybe in time I will. Maybe it’s all just a senseless tragedy with no explanation or meaning to be found. I do hope that I can learn to be more patient, more compassionate, more accepting of things I can’t control. Mostly I hope someday to again feel safe in the world.

 

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the current Editor of The Jewish Observer of Nashville, and a former small business owner.  Barbara loves writing, telling stories of real people and real events and most of all, talking to people all over the world.  The Jewish Observer newspaper can be read online at www.jewishobservernashville.org .

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by | June 4, 2019 · 5:00 am

Trauma Comes in Many Forms

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Photo by Natália Ivanková on Pexels.com

I recently read in an article that trauma, though usually associated with a sudden, unexpected horrible event or occurrence, can also be caused by something positive.  The article explained that trauma is anything that divides your life into before, and after.  I realized, as I approach the 12th anniversary of my move to Tennessee, that I’ve been dealing with the trauma of being uprooted from the only home I ever knew and relocating to a place where I had no family or friends.

My discovery was triggered by a call from someone I don’t know, but who is a colleague of my brother.  This person and his wife are considering moving to Nashville and my brother suggested they reach out to me to learn the ropes.  As I first spoke to the husband, I answered his questions and gave him the broad strokes about life here.  He’s concerned for his wife and how she will fare.  I next spoke with the wife, who had very different questions and concerns.  We had a great conversation, but as I shared my experiences with her it became clear to me that I’ve suffered some trauma as a result of the move.  In fact, after our conversation, I felt a wave of grief wash over me and it stayed for several days.

I’m sure on the spectrum of trauma, my experience is somewhat mild.  But I do distinguish my life before the move and my life since.  I often spend time wondering what my life would have been like if we’d never moved.  I fantasize about what I’d be doing at this moment if I was still, “back home.”  And I long for a time we can move back.

I don’t know much about recovery from trauma, but in this case, it’s come as a gradual process.  The last 12 years have been challenging but, I know now, also incredibly rewarding.  I’ve learned that I am a resilient person.  I’ve become more confident in my ability to navigate new situations.  And while I always knew I’m someone who makes friends easily, I’ve learned to consciously use that skill when necessary.

And there’s been another, unexpected lesson I’ve learned.  The concept of, “home,” is one I always associated with a place.  In my case, that home is Southern California.  But home is a funny thing, wherever you are, wherever your loved ones are, that’s home.  For some people, it’s obvious but for me, it was something I really had to live through to understand.  And the places that I long for are always with me, in my heart and my memories.  Just like people who have passed through my life, places I treasure don’t disappear.  But unlike people who have passed, I can, and do, revisit places.  The shores of the Pacific Ocean, the rocky peaks of the Sierras, the desert sands of Palm Springs, all are still there for me.  Not to mention the breakfast table at my best friend’s house, the neighborhood parks where my children played, the street where we bought our first home and the duplex I lived in when I was a child.

Right now, I actually feel lucky to have two big parts to my life.  The part before the move that gave me my values, my inner strength, my education and my family.  And the part since, that put all of that to the test.  I know now that, given the choice, I wouldn’t go back to the life I had; that life exists in my memory.  The one I have now is so much richer, more meaningful and more satisfying.  As time passes I feel blended rather than split in two.  I get to choose what part of my past to keep and what to let go and I also get to decide what to embrace in my new life and what to let pass.  I guess for now, the grief is passed, but I’m sure it will resurface and next time, it will be different.

Springtime in my Garden

Here are a few shots from my garden.  This is definitely something new for me!  A vegetable garden of my own is something I always wanted in So. Cal. but never had time or space.  Check it out!

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The latest veggie harvest

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First yield of the season.

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The garden!

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by | May 7, 2019 · 5:00 am

Looking Forward: Spring in My Garden

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These past couple of weeks I’ve been in a bit of a funk.  I’m not sure what triggered it, and I can’t really put my finger on what, exactly, I’m feeling.  I just feel a bit blue.  Perhaps the recent bout of constant rain and gray weather is what got me down.  But thankfully, today it’s glorious outside and I found myself motivated to work in my newly planted vegetable garden.

I’ve been planting vegetables the last several years since moving to the South, first in my previous home which had a large lot, and the last couple of years in my new home in a more urban neighborhood with a smaller yard.  Each year I learn something new about the process and about myself in the hopes that my garden will improve and yield a better crop than the year before.  It’s a “two steps forward, one step back,” sort of process.  Dealing with nature means being ready for the unexpected.  Haha, an oxymoron for sure.  What I mean is, I need to learn to roll with things as they come and be better at living in the moment and problem solving as things present themselves.

Last summer, was the year of the stink bug infestation.  Previous years I did battle with the evil vine borer.  This year, well, I’ve tried to prepare the beds with food and nutrients, along with some, shall we say, unsavory additives to ward off another invasion.  But who knows what’s lurking beneath the soil, in the trees, or what those cute but pesky little bunnies hopping in the neighborhood bring with them as they sneak in for a nibble.  I guess it’s a sign of my true optimism that every year I try again, not knowing what will happen, but believing that I’ll grow right along with my garden.  And most years I do have some victories.  Last year in spite of those stink bugs, I did have five beautiful pumpkins.  In fact, I still have some of the cooked insides waiting in the freezer to be turned into scones, pies, bread and jam.  I also had a bumper crop of heirloom cherry tomatoes, and still have a few sweet potatoes left in the basement.  So, there are rewards to be sure.

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One important lesson I learned last year is that my tendency toward going big doesn’t always work.  Of course, this isn’t news to me, but the overflowing beds really illustrated the problem.  After planting zucchini, pumpkins, cucumbers and spaghetti squash all in the same 4×4 raised bed, it was easy to see I hadn’t planned well for their growth. Before long, they were all tangled in each other and as the summer progressed, they spilled out onto the surrounding lawn, some of the plants rooting themselves into the grass.  The morning dew made for some soggy vegetables and some rot on the vines.  So, while early in the season I was sure there’d be enough room, I learned that when it comes to planting vegetables, less is definitely more.  This season, I’ve exercised some restraint and kept the beds sparser, allowing room for growth.  I also plan to experiment with trellises and vertical gardening for the squash and cucumbers.  And I’m taking a break from the pumpkins.  Too heartbreaking if they don’t make it.  See?  I’m managing expectations!

As the season progresses, I’m excited to observe how my newly learned lessons help the process.  I’m hopeful, as always, for a better year than last.  I’m also certain to face challenges.  And I just know I’ll learn something new.  Can’t wait!

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

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by | March 5, 2019 · 5:00 am

Rediscovering My Passion

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My daughter is planning a job change.  She’s in her first big career job after grad school and, as her current situation does not have much growth potential, the time has come for her to move on and move up.  She happens to also have chosen a field that is both highly competitive and male dominated: collegiate athletics.  But the world of sports has been both her passion and her hobby since childhood, so it’s a natural fit as a career.

As she navigates her way through the job search, she’s having to do some soul searching about which direction to go, where to relocate, if she should relocate.  Her graduate degree is pretty broad so she has lots of options.  But sometimes a broad field can mean lots of distraction and confusion.  Figuring out long term goals in light of so much choice is overwhelming.  So she sought some advice from a counselor who gave her some wisdom that really resonates with me, too.

The counselor said there are two guiding things to consider. The first is figuring out what she’d want her life to be about, meaning what is her core passion?  Is it collegiate athletics, education, social media, design, etc.?  The next thing to consider is what she wants her life to look like, i.e., what type of daily work she wants to do in service of that passion.

It’s so easy in life to get sidetracked, to be lulled into complacency or to simply procrastinate until life happens around you.  I have always encouraged my children to follow their passions, especially while they’re young and unencumbered.  I fell early into adult life with marriage and children and big life responsibilities.  My early passions were shelved to make way for caring for others.  And while I don’t really regret those choices, I do feel the urgency of time passing way too fast these days.  The counselor’s advice rings true regardless of age or stage of life.

And so, I’ve begun to reflect on my life in light of thinking about my passion.  I’m not sure where this will take me.  I do believe there is a common thread that runs through everything I’ve done, both personally and professionally.  But still, I feel that something is missing.  So, thanks to my daughter, I’ve got some work to do.  I’m excited to let myself dream, to dig deep and maybe even remember a part of myself I’d left behind.  And maybe it’s time to honor the person I’ve always been and who, finally, will not be ignored.

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

Like what you’ve read? Feel free to share, but please… Give HerSavvy credit. Thanks!

 

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