MILD SYMPTOMS

Maybe Samuel brought Covid home from the coffee shop but was asymptomatic. Maybe it’s just sinuses, but with a fever? No one likes being sick, but for me there’s a fear with it that feels scarier than feeling ill.

Spending a good portion of life not being in my body, when it goes awry- that is scary. Unfamiliar with it in healthier times, when off-kilter the territory becomes even more foreign.

When running from yourself, it isn’t possible to care for yourself. Being disconnected how could it?

But these last weeks, especially when night after night a routine of good sleep has developed, and each morning time is spent just being, staying, and not running, a connection with all elements of myself brings a wholeness unfounded.  

With it an ability to care for each aging part which needs more attention than ever before. It is not easy to keep an old car running, spare parts, tune-ups, grease, all sorts of attentive focus.

But when chaos and anxiety fill up my tank, that’s all there is. When peace replaces the foaming buzz, miracles blossom, the miracle of well-being, and feeling there is a place for me here now.

The Coming of Fall

Did it happen in a day, this drop in mood, so low you pick it up from the floor? Cool, darker longer, cloudy, and wet, sitting on the patio amidst my secret garden in all its splendor, the usual joy escaping me. Then, sunshine and warmth. The reversal along with a sunny bike ride for an hour along the waterway brought back happiness and well-being.

The lower mood darkening my morning at the start of August? Literature states SAD, seasonal affective disorder, generally begins in October, but my sense of it is much sooner. The usual strategy is pushing through it, as if a bag of rocks must be carried along. But with some thought and planning it can be improved.

Exercise outdoors. Fun things to keep doing. Continued work on my goals of healthy living including physical, mental, and spiritual health. These are the threads of gold weaved caringly.

DAY TRIP

We may not be able to camp in the mountains anymore due to my sleep issues, a loss after more than 30 years of camping there, but we still can take short trips that are enjoyable. This one along an outlet trail leading from one Great Lake to another.

BIKE RIDE

They say old age isn’t for the faint of heart, or something like that. And some say it’s better than the alternative. Yet a simple splash of water left on the floor, meaning to wipe it up yet forgetting, almost caused Samuel to fall.

And that’s all it takes, a tiny thing to cause an accident which easily breaks older bones. It has happened to a few friends needing screws, pins, casts, and way too long in hospitals.

My carelessness could have done that, and the thought made a foul mood drop further. Adding to my funk was another spat with Samuel over who knows what? But he came out to the patio to join me. We let whatever quarrel it was go, enjoying the sun’s warmth, then decided it was the perfect day for a bike ride.

He seemed in a low mood too. But once on the trail depressing thoughts lifted. How could they not when the sun dappled path dotted with daisies were waving a happy hello? Wild roses out in full bloom greeted us with a heady scent intoxicatingly heavenly.

“That’s what we needed,” I said to Samuel, adding, “Nature and exercise cures everything.”

Making some kind of noise in agreement (man of few words), we travel on enjoying the day along with happier thoughts and feelings of accomplishment knowing we are doing beneficial things for our hearts, joints, and emotions.

AUTUMN

photos by Patricia

And so the windows and doors are shut to protect from fall’s first frost. Heat wafts up from the registers gently warming the rooms and my body like a cozy blanket. The unwelcome shuttered feeling needs counteracting.

Samuel brings in the purple grapes giving my hands an afternoon of slipping off skins, cooking the insides then sieving the seeds out, joining the hot mixture back with the skins and other ingredients to make pie filling.

Miniature sunflowers make a spectacular autumnal bouquet, and walks add pleasure to my day. With the crisp air and vibrant sun the pull is to walk more then a long repose by the creek. A baby blue-bird kept me company along with many other varieties, surprising me with activity and songs. So many have already left for the season to warmer climates so it’s usually quiet as a tomb! 

The sister-in-law Ginny, and brother Don came for the morning staying vigilant about social distancing on the patio then a walk to the creek with more relaxation.

They didn’t mind drinking freshly perked coffee from the tray perched on a pretty cotton tablecloth, and enjoying homemade apple hand pies. There used to be a taboo about food sharing at the beginning of the pandemic, but they heard it’s no longer cause for concern. 

The visit was OK, but left me wanting more that probably won’t come. The closeness craved needs loyalty. It felt like being kept at arm’s length, but perhaps that is coming from me. My truth expects loyalty, but you are not loyal (or safe) if you interact with friendliness towards anyone who abused me so horribly.

I am at peace with how things are, proceeding with baby steps, and that’s OK. Being cordial and open is my choice. Surface interaction will have to do on the rare times we meet. My life goes on bringing joy unfounded, joyful for the first time in over 60 years.

That joy comes from being at peace with my past, and the present. And by being in the present, not something a person used to disassociation could do automatically. What has been automatic was spending most of my time in Neverland; a safe place made for me in another dimension still visited sometimes…zoning out.

When meditation became a daily practice over 15 years ago, the process of learning that one can be present and be safe began. That was not something learnt as a child, leaving my body… and taking a life-time to reclaim it. 

Peace has been found, a peace that as a survivor has been an ongoing struggle. It can last for days until a bout of sleeplessness makes for the need of a sleep aid. That injects a tumultuous barrel of self-pity filling the day after with sluggishness. But luckily that too occurs less and less mostly during the change in seasons.

After spending time with so called ‘family’ it becomes harder to close the door and go on as usual because the pull for clan is timeless. Real closeness remains most safe with Samuel, sons, and friends, the chosen family.

LIGHT

Railing at the changing seasons equates to less joy. Adjustments are required as the days grow shorter wondering- is it imagined? There was hope to avoid it for once, but that’s not happening. It is real, waking in the night more often with dark thoughts about the past, or trying to fall asleep with warning bells going off fearing my entire soul is fraught with maliciousness.

Stop. Breathe, you’re OK. It is just the onset of autumn, and you know what that does to your thinking. Self talk is crucial for my thoughts as dark as the shorter days.Time to double up on the usual work as my mind is as heavy as my leaden feet in the path, dragging them step by step, each lap a struggle through the heaviness. 

Welcome fall. Out come pumpkin, cinnamon, and apple scented candles for the warmer, along with creams and essential oils to enjoy which also embrace fall. Apples in the hallway Samuel picked off the tree a week ago are finally dragged into the kitchen to make applesauce.

The bubbly pink sauce is sprinkled with cinnamon, but my blunted senses hardly notice. It is difficult to stay in my body and go deep afraid of the negativity welling up. But go there, then stay, that’s the answer. Do what brings pleasure, just look at the meadow once dancing with buttercups and daisies now yellow with mustard. The changing hues swap color as the seasons change. 

Birds chatter en masse in the hickory trees, then a swell suddenly forms in a cloud flying in group formation, dipping like an out of control roller coaster, then gone leaving silence behind. Just be… absorb what’s there, find the light. Pick a bouquet of sunflowers and zinnias. There is beauty, let it in. Breathe deep, relax.

 

Know Thyself

What was known all along still is interesting to me, that others who have never been met in person are closer to me than my own family. It is my sense that those called ‘family’ not only commit to silence about the traumas I suffered, collude in the silence and protection of those that chose to commit crimes on their little sister, but also find ways to keep distance from me even if chatting in person face to face.

And even those that are close, like friends, Samuel, and sons, don’t know, really know, how wounding the silence is. But on-line with those who have suffered the same silence, collusion, and conspiracy… respite, understanding, and acceptance is found.

Not just acceptance from others, but learning to accept myself. Growing up with the traumas suppressed as is typical in families where sexual abuse occurs by one of their own to one of their own, compassion for myself was and still is too often non-existent.

Non-existent too when around family who brings up a name of an abuser, whether accidentally, or thoughtlessly, or as a way to say to me that you will say whatever you want even if it hurts me. It rams like a punch to the gut causing instant dissociation needing force to choose between leaving now to that place of another dimension or stay in the present. 

It has taken over a week to find my way back to my core where compassion, self-understanding and confidence flows. That is the favored place, not zoned out to that ether place of safety used to shield myself from unwelcome hands as a little girl, then becoming a habit well into later life. 

Sons are not supposed to be one’s personal therapist, but my sons have been, especially Cory. Each grew centered, connections complete without fracture. Wanting that desperately, it drew me close as if they were the adults and I the child. Perhaps their wholeness would drift into me. 

It isn’t supposed to be that way. Yet they both grew whole, something I sought but instead was lost in a life of fog, confusion, and anxiety. Cory has forgiven my needy ways, assuring me it helped make him a more compassionate adult. But he was put in the adult role too often in my need for assistance to stay afloat.

Gratefulness has begun to flow back melting the numbness of a careless remark. Sons so special despite growing up with a fractured mother. On-line friends, and blogging are magical; getting feelings out, sorting through them, which greatly helps to understand myself and the world around me. A way to finally speak what never could be spoken.

 

SAFETY

My Secret Garden

Six years ago my blogging began around this time, and the feelings of approaching fall are similar. The down in mood, sadness over just about every loss that ever was and ever will be. But hopes continue that it will be handled and nothing occurs that makes a whopping depression. Because I’ve had some of those.

The morning is cold, 49 degrees, and fall feels so close. After yesterday’s list of house chores were checked off, including weeding the flower garden a bit, today feels like staying still.

Dew sparkles like glittering diamonds. When the sun finally comes above the trees, soaking it in though my thick bathrobe soothes every bone and sinew, also soothing my internal worries always at the ready to take a jab.

It’s OK, my refrain when worries take hold. It’s OK, you’re OK, everything’s OK. Well, of course it’s not as the news states. But it is OK as far as anything I’m able to do to fix it. My feelings are that kids should learn from home right now. And colleges? Are they daft? Sports? Are you kidding?

It still amazes me how others aren’t being serious about this deadly virus. But in my little slice of paradise there’s nothing I can do but keep myself safe, and hope my children and grand-children stay safe.

They move about much more than we do. Shane’s family leaves tomorrow to stay with his brother in a neighboring state for a week. My prayers are for their safety. Wistfulness descends for not being able to see my son who lives so far away.

We’ve not been together other than virtually since last Christmas. And we’ve already decided that his coming this Christmas isn’t a good idea. Though sadness can sweep me away doubting that decision repeatedly, it is the right decision for us. My efforts focus on the positives of which there are many.

 

At Peace In The Moment

The day is quiet, laying before me like an open book. Rather than do, do, do, my quest resides deeper staying in one place a very long time. With sneakers on, uncharacteristically ready for action, Samuel asks, “Do you want to go biking?”

Wanting stillness and peace, not action, I respond, “I’m not ready. I have to eat, get dressed, then meditate.”

“Well, I don’t like it when it gets too hot,” he says, adding, “I’m going.”

Good. Time alone today is a good thing, opening the windows after he leaves because he said keep them shut so it stays cool. There’s cool, then then there’s cool when feeling so chilly a sweater is needed.

It is summer, and after the stickiness that made me happy to have air conditioning, today is just a nice summer day to be enjoyed fully… windows open.

Sometimes in my efforts to please even just one other person, my self is lost in the shuffle. Sometimes compromise means giving up too much, so much the internal forces are not at peace which equates to unhappy.

Sometimes the business of placing so much effort each day in moving my body more, the pleasure is lost in the doing instead of being.

So today come back home and experience the satisfaction of each moment without pressure.

Boredom or Peace

Photo by Cory (younger son)

That feeling you might call boredom, is peace. With a life of anxiety, always on the edge, always ready for the next explosion of emotion or happening, peace might feel boring. It is peace. 

Overcast, cooler, and oh so still, calling me out for early morning laps before breakfast. My being relaxes into the stillness, going deep into my center where swirling has quieted.

Each day a new day. Though the path is the same, trodden down from so many times around, if you look closely it is not the same as yesterday.. Different if time is taken to absorb every nuance. Stopping at the blackberries, some are ripe. Plucking a handful they dissolve over my tongue with sweetness.

Birds fly off as if perplexed at my intrusion at their early morning feast. Stopping at lap five by the creek to rest in the comfortable chair, a King Fisher flies off. Then a heron’s deep throttled quack is heard as it gracefully swoops off into another fishing perch.

Sitting a long while by the water, the beauty that is often taken for granted sinks into my soul like warm waves. Though it sometimes seems overly familiar, it is not. It keeps changing renewing itself each day.  But you have to notice, drink it in, and enjoy the countless gifts mother gives.