Izzie shares the deepest joys and sorrows of her childhood, marriage, divorce, pregnancy, raising adopted children with special needs including Autism Spectrum Disorder and becoming a grandmother. She takes us on her soul-searching journey to heal her past and to be mindful of the present with grace and introspection. Izzie shares a startling intimate account of the journey of 2 generations of adoptions accompanied by the inevitable feelings of loss and abandonment. She captivates and uplifts as she shows how to look at life's challenges as opportunities for growth and how to create the life you want.
My dad died. I think of all the times as a Unit Coordinator at hospice,
when I’ve asked family members if they’re okay. That’s a silly
question. Of course, they’re not okay! Relieved maybe, and happy that
the loved one isn’t suffering. But there’s a huge hole in your
heart; the rest of the world is out playing, shopping, working, and your
world has stopped. You’re out of your body! you want yourself back.
I’m not okay. But I’m okay with not being okay…and I’m so glad
I had just returned from Kaiser, the tiny Appalachian town on the SE
corner of Ohio. I was finally ready to say it out loud. My dad died.
Grieving is so intimate and personal…so lonely. No one knows exactly
how you feel, because every relationship is different. Every grief
varies due to the intensity of the relationship with the decreased. The
only commonality, really, is a broken heart. I had forgotten how badly
grief hurts, physically. My body felt achy and flush, without the fever.
I wasn’t hungry and I just wanted to sleep or I was eating when I
wasn’t hungry and awake when I needed to be sleeping.
Grief is like standing in the warm Pacific Ocean with the water not
quite waist high. The water is warm, the sun is hot and there’s a
feeling of awe that this same water goes to the other side of the earth,
connecting different cultures. It is humbling, in a way, being like a
tiny grain of sand in this huge universe, insignificant in the grand
scope of things. It feels good and for a just a brief second, all is
right with the world. And just as that feeling begins to take hold, a
huge wave comes, knocks you down. There’s sand in your bottom and
water up your nose. You’re choking and gasping for air. You stand up,
gather your wits, shake the sand from your bottom and clear the salty
water from your lungs. You take a refreshing healing breath.
And you’re okay. It feels good. All is right with the world.
Excerpted from "It's Complicated: A Love Story and Memoir" by Izzie Bebe. Copyright © 2017 by Izzie Bebe. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Wild marimba player. Dapples in water colors. Active yoga- teaching- grandmother of 4. Retired teacher and hospice inpatient care coordinator. Intuitive and Reiki Master. Grief Recovery Specialist, who came to that profession through doing lots of grief work. Closed adoption mother of two daughters. Open adoption grandmother of 3 munchkins. Writer and avid reader. Enjoys sunshine and mountains, hiking and skiing, singing in the car, and flannel pajamas. Will donate her body to science when she leaves this earthly planet. Hope her children and grandchildren knows how much they are loved, believes they can make positive changes in the world by choosing kindness and love over all else.
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