Our worst nightmare came true
At least a couple of times each day over the past two weeks, people have been asking what they can do for me.
Carter works at Loggerhead Marine Life Center where they rescue and rehabilitate sea turtles.
This is hard for me as I normally prefer to share and help others with clever teaching ideas, ways to use apps and resources to spark creativity. In short, I’d rather be thinking of what I can do for YOU.
However, a horrific accident that seriously injured three limbs and took the right arm of our 25-year old son, Carter, has turned everything upside down. As parents, our worst, most unimaginable nightmare came true. So now—even though this is not in my nature—I’ve made a wishlist of what you can do for me. I’ve got some big asks.
First, keep Carter in your thoughts and prayers. You can follow all the details of his recovery at his Caring Bridge site found here. Some how it’s comforting to know that you are finding a tissue as you read about his injuries and his small steps back to the life he was leading before the accident.
Next, many have asked about the details about how the Thanksgiving day snorkeling accident happened. Because our main focus is on Carter and because I’ve been advised not to talk about it here or at Caring Bridge, just google Carter Viss and you’ll find out more than you may want to know.
Last, stick with me. Although the initial intent of LeilaViss.com is to share innovative resources for the creative piano teacher, posts will take a shift in direction as I stumble through this nightmare. My blog that I started in 2013 is my “home” and writing seems to be my best therapy, especially now. Sharing my thoughts and interacting with fellow teachers, pianists, musicians and parents like you who walk alongside me and family on this murky, unwanted journey are essential to my mental wellbeing.
Carter’s condition when we arrived on the day after Thanksgiving.
Last night, a funk set in. I began doubting my relevance as a teacher and blogger wondering what I have to offer and even thinking that I may need to make a change in careers. Basically, I was feeling sorry for myself because this accident has put a hold on my studio, my position at the University of Denver and my church gig. Uggh...it’s Carter that is suffering and yet it’s so easy to become self-absorbed.
My son Levi said, “Mom, you’re a pretty good piano teacher so I think you should keep teaching.”
His sweet advice helped me climb back out of the rabbit hole. Yes, I’ve put my studio on hold and will return to teaching when we know more about Carter’s path to healing. My position at the University of Denver was passed along to a fabulous colleague and I’m eager to tell this story of serendipity—saving it for a later post. And my church job? They patiently await my return.
Sitting up in a wheel chair was a small yet major step towards recovery.
So, things that will help me stay out of a nasty funk?
Your support of future posts and the comments you leave.
The questions you ask about teaching, about apps, about practice, etc. that will fire up my pedagogical soul again.
The preparation it will take to lead my sessions at MTNA and seeing YOU there.
The brainstorming required to offer another superb 88 Creative Keys Workshop in Austin,Texas under the leadership of Marie Lee and Mindy Rawlinson and seeing YOU there. Bradley Sowash and I have happily and gratefully passed the reigns of our summer workshop for teachers to these two incredible, savvy and smart women. (This transition happened this past summer long before the accident.)
Your willingness to patiently read through what erupts from my brain during a situation that no parent should ever have to endure.
And here’s the first “eruption.”
The Grief Monster
The official definition of grief: the response to loss.
That’s far too passive in my opinion since I now have firsthand experience with grief overload.
Grief is a monster that comes out of nowhere, hits you behind the knees and knocks you to the ground.
Grief squeezes your soul so tight that tears don’t just fall, they pour out and splatter all over.
Grief dissolves tissues into tiny, soggy pieces that stick to your face.
Grief sucks all the air from your lungs so hard that it makes you sigh in anguish involuntarily.
Grief drains tears, bucket by bucket, until the well dries.
Grief traps the tears in your soul which constantly ache to be released.
Grief consumes all waking hours and sneaks into every event on your calendar.
Grief unexpectedly cancels and changes any anticipated holiday and future plans.
Grief makes hourly appointments on your calendar without invitation.
Grief pokes it’s ugly head during brief moments of normality and drags you back to it’s dark dungeon.
Grief hangs like a cloud around your head (think Schroeder) so everyone looks at you differently.
Grief sets off unwanted alarms in the middle of the night and haunts your thoughts until you get out of bed.
Grief drags you into unwanted conversations that you never wanted to have.
Grief invites others to tell their stories of grief which makes you feel robbed of your own grief that you’ve begun to coddle like a new born baby.
Grief brings out selfishness and makes you disinterested in the tragic stories of others.
Grief crumbles you into the arms of your spouse.
Grief builds a wall around your life that continually reverts your focus back on you instead of others.
Grief voids anyone’s attempt to offer hope or inspiration.
Grief initiates too many in-depth discussions that lead to fatigue and apathy.
Grief amplifies the little things that bug you and ignites immediate anger.
Grief zaps your energy and demands to be fed but dulls the flavor of food.
Grief blunts emotions and keeps them under lock and key so that you appear to be strong and in control.
Grief walks hand in hand with laughter as it can solace the soul when nothing else can.
Grief comes when you least expect it and makes itself at home in your favorite chair, in your bed and on your favorite pillow.
Grief hogs conversations with friends and demands the spotlight.
Grief tethers you to a short leash that keeps you close to it at all times.
