The room we chose to sleep in while vacationing in the the Adirondacks was tiny, dark, almost windowless and airless. The other two for my sons and families were large, airy and new. We felt that wing would give us space from the babies waking at night and our sons could attend to them without interfering with our sleep.
I shut down, didn’t sleep, and felt far from home, the real structure and the one I worked hard to find inside of my own being. Three days after coming home I am still searching for the internal one.
Hung out from a place to reside brought coldness and disconnect like a ghost with nowhere to go. The cat struggled and the trip took a toll on her that she may not recover from. Feelings froze and acting like I had any took its place.
Feelings. Safety to have them. Basics like enough sleep and manageable stress. Those gifts return the moment we enter the driveway to our home. It is so good to be home. Each day brings me back into me as the frozen shell melts.
Photos from my garden and meadow
There is a part of me craving for family of origin. I dream of them, including Tom. Night after night ‘family’ enters my dreams, the wanting, the craving, the good parts of the past. Stories are concocted in the dreamworld that mimic my needs, stories that bring love and closeness. The yearning goes beyond my control into sub-consciousness.
They interact with Tom, the abuser, more than with me in the real world. Two sister’s-in-law have acknowledged my pain, but none of ‘them.’
And they won’t. I am kept at arm’s length for a purpose, to shut me down and out. Niceties are shown to prove tolerance, a show of kindness, but no realness, no talking.
It is hitting a wall repeatedly because the wanting of family will exist till death. But my head hurts from the bruising. Go to the light. Live your life with those who want to live it with you.
The positive energy is not found from those who shut you down but those that bring light. Flagging self-esteem inside drives me to those who negate me. If you accept me, then I am alright and have finally made it. Step away from the black hole of a dark endless pit,
go to the light…
Anxiety ruled. Fear curdled in my belly.
Work at your day, you must.
Easily my mind tricks me. Easily I follow the wrong path, one leading to problems, and yes, doom. I can cause my own health issues or I can solve them.
No wonder you feel a great fear. It is a fear of myself and a lack of trust. Who is at the helm, an emotional child or a trusted adult?
Walking the meadow sweat glistens on my back as the grasses sway in the sunny breeze. Plotting the day’s goals the list includes many self care activities interspersed with the things I love, lavender one of them.
Spring rains have brought out abundant flowers. Each proudly stands in her glory then fades, but another takes her place. Lavender is at the forefront now and the bees know it.
Scooping up handfuls, shaking away the bees, I chop off hunks and the basket fills, basket after basket. This year’s growth surpasses my needs and many gifts will be made.
Glue gun on, sparkly adornments near-by along with various ribbon, my creativity is given free reign. One basket for a sister-in-law when we stay at the lake next week. Another basket for my massage therapist who will pleased to have last year’s gift replenished. And an assortment of smaller bouquets for friends when we meet later in the month.
The house takes on the heady, intoxicating aroma of lavender, known for its soothing qualities. Amidst the day’s chores, exercises, and other needed work is the joy of nature and her gifts…
She clasped the bouquet in her small hands, her eyes gazing at the glittery jewels. Knowing her Nana made it especially for her increased its worth.
Only four, she happily danced on stage with her ballet class in her tutu and glowing smile.
Though I did not take dance classes, but dearly wanted to, I am able to do so now vicariously. The delicious three hour recital with music, lighting and costumes, each more bejeweled than the last, kept me in tuned to the very end.
Such beauty! Such a delight!
photos by patricia
Get to the root causes of why you overeat. Yes. Feed this body so it works properly.
What about the psyche, emotions, and the soul that searches for something never found? These crucial parts still crave satisfaction and wholeness.
I eat anxiety. I eat to feel better about the little girl lost, unloved and unprotected who to this day struggles with self-esteem and so much more. It is a desire and basic need that will forever go wanting because no one can go back and make it right…or safe.
At 64 I am only just learning to be kind to myself. That is key. Yet the constant challenges of confronting that harsh voice inside remains and needs work daily questioning its validity.
Food soothes. Food quiets the voice. But then another voice booms even louder, “You are fat, you are bad!” but it is one I’m used to from the age of 8 when food numbed the horrors. I go in circles and circles.
Keep at it, keep trying.
Waking to the birds, the humidity is thick. Taking coffee to the patio, bare feet against the cool cement, the nesting mourning dove calls hauntingly and sweetly back to her mate sipping water at the birdbath. They are on nest two. At this rate they will have three families by summer’s end. A tranquility descends into my being.
Each day a mystery. Will you feel fear, or be OK? Tame the beast of impermanence. Each day a challenge wrestling with thoughts, turning them around, finding the peace restlessly craved; a quietness in the soul that when found allows textures to be felt, scents to be absorbed, and moments to be full…
photos by patricia
Anxiety spills from my pores quicker than blood. I mop it up with food and push it down, food that becomes tasteless and only quantity matters, enough of it until the quickened pulse and throbbing nerves are still.
It is a constant work feeding this body as it needs rather than feeding the tormented psyche that expects dread and doom at any moment. Each step, even in the quiet meadow, there can be danger lurking… A lion, goblin, or hooded monster? Just who do you think is behind that bush or around the corner?
The brothers of my childhood lie waiting.
A hole was torn into my bedrock of being, one that cannot be fused with strong bone. Up through the crack gurgles demons and terror. It cannot be stopped, it is always there waiting…