SLEEP!

In the teens with a fine mist of snow sprinkling down like glitter through the rising sun. The fire warms me as birds peck at the suet cakes in the feeder outside while the cat curls up next to me in the rocker. The wave of peacefulness envelopes me disturbed only by my thoughts which wonder when the next crash of chaos consumes me. Because it will.

Take the brass ring when it’s offered. Winter in its slowness allows respite. Periods of grace in-between the other, when even with no reason my insides simmer with over-activity. But not this morn. Turning in bed sleep found me again, then again.

The long snooze lasted almost ten hours. Oh how I love that! Not having a thing makes me love it all the more with gratitude and great appreciation. Sleep, oh blessed sleep!

WORRY or SLEEP?

 

It is so easy to follow my mind into the pit of worry, but no, whatever might be a problem, it is not my problem to solve unless it is about me. Caring is one thing, injecting my input into another is not. It happens with kids and grand-kids, especially when my head hits the pillow.

Detach. It is their time to deal with their problems if they exist, because my mind can go places where nothing really is happening. Yet my gut also is aware of things that others are oblivious to. So don’t throw out concerns that may be valid, just don’t lose sleep over them.

If they are there, they are not mine to solve. Sleep did come, deep and long.

PEACE

The morning brought an odd sensation of aloneness though Samuel was around. Record temperatures of warmth were reached pulling me out to slop through the wet fields for a restful, peaceful walk. The pines whispered while passing by, like welcoming statuesque friends in a row branches extending for a handshake.

Choosing the elliptical in the basement over the coldness outside, made it  quite awhile since walking the meadow. It was sorely missed; the soothing quiet, interrupted by a few chirps, the whistle of the train brought closer with the wet air, and sounds of silence enhancing the respite making me linger a long time.

Yet a feeling unnamed there in the background wavered with a hesitancy to force it away. But conversation internally tried wedging it from its roots touting gratitude over loss, aplenty over scarcity. The little bit of blues scattered with the breeze while walking back to the house.

Inside a message on the answering machine bleeped red, my son asking for a callback.

“Um, just wondering if you’d like to take the kids this afternoon? We are thinking of doing errands then eating out afterwards. We’ll pick up the boys in the evening, but Cindy would like to stay the night,” Shane asked.

That was what was missing. Kid care, my devotion to my children, now their children.

“Oh yes, of course!” I responded delighted with anticipation and excitement for the fun day ahead.

Samuel drove me to the store to pick up pizza and ice cream after William’s basketball game. All was happily scarfed down later after a raucous afternoon of joyful activity with the three of them. Sometimes just what is needed comes along. No pushing, trying or scraping for more. Instead, patience, time, and living the best life that I know how, and learning to be the best person I can be.  

 

FREEDOM

Staring at the fire, mistakes made with my first son when he was growing up begin to weigh on me. No, a gentle voice whispered. We are all flawed, you can’t go back, but what you can do now is be better.

The fire’s flames sway like bright red hula dancers behind the glass, shoulders relax, the critic melts away. It is the critic who keeps me awake at night, or butts in as the day begins.

Is that freedom? Freedom is allowing the wonder of life into every moment. It isn’t forever, this life, though it is often lived as if that were so.

When things are settled, enjoy it, don’t ruin it with negativity, something I’m very good at. Become good at something else, like gentleness, and acceptance, with a sprinkling of kindness. Try that…that is freedom.

GRATITUDE and PEACE

photo by Patricia

Stillness seeps in, and along with it deep sleep. Moments of hypervigilance slash the peace, then a soft voice cradles me, it’s OK, everything’s OK, you’re OK.

Friends brought a gift from a state where pot is legal, vials of pot oil which is added nightly to my dropper of CBD oil. It seems to be the magic needed to combat such severe PTSD issues resulting in better sleep, and an all-around lessening of anxiety.

A winter to enjoy, could it be? Yes, but still sprinkled with self-doubt, body hate issues, and emotional upheavals frosted with fear, but more balance than decades before. And much less need for Xanax, a sleep-aid that also ruins the next day with grogginess.

Little projects keep my hands and mind focused; new curtains for the basement room where Cory stays at Christmastime, more glass beads to hang sending rainbows glittering in dance across the walls and ceilings, and working through issues with Samuel in a way that deepens our friendship not destroying it.

We relate in a way that doesn’t change. I speak of feelings, he explains them away. Infuriating. Stop doing it. He doesn’t get it. He won’t, or cannot speak of feelings. Men truly are from Mars, and women from Venus.

We limp along working at it, mostly enjoying each other’s company… but are so different in how we see, feel, and interpret the world. Like magnets with opposite polarity, the push necessitating time apart, even if only the space of another room. Meditation brings clarity and a path to the discussion of differences with equanimity, tolerance, and honesty.   

 

Black and White Meet Grey

What if you beat the beast by not beating, but loving with soothing counterpunches in the form of words that shower care? A fight or a soft cloud. As it often is in the world of Patricia, finding a balance can be difficult as my world has been black or white. As years pass more grey lifts up offering a sultry fog mixing both. The ups and downs begin to meet in the middle as if standing on the center of a see-saw.

And that’s OK, it’s called balance, and I like it. No great highs to come down from, nor lows to rip myself up from, though there seems to be more of those than the highs. A general evenness has evolved.

Be aware of the successes savoring them, not dwelling on what’s lacking but relishing all that is; the sparkle from the twirling items sending prisms along the wall and carpet causing the kitty’s head to spin one way then the other.

Enjoying her antics, then her need to curl up on my lap offering her belly for pets until my legs ache and need to move. Love flows freely between human and cat. She responds to it, and I surely do if I pay attention to the moments.

So many pleasures at hand, right here at home. A trip to return a few items starts out enjoyable making me wonder if I ought to get out more. Faces smile back at my smile bringing a feeling of joy. By the second hour, and an argument at the check-out, not heated, but ongoing, the manager is called who allows the return.

Weariness takes over with a wish to be home, the tiredness hitting like a stone wall. The external world can be exhausting, reminding me why my life remains reclusive. Each person is parroting their needs, like the cashier who doesn’t understand the benefits of satisfying a customer, repeating the store’s policy as if it’s a edict from the King.   

Home. Home Sweet Home. 

Prepare the Soil

Turning, wondering where to go, feeling confused as to my purpose… this room, that chore, back to the first one. With Cory’s presence my meditation practice stopped, and most of my exercise regime. Keeping present, and preparing food for each party exhausted me enough with little energy left for anything else.

Getting back to my usual routines feels odd. The out of sync, disjointed fracture left in his wake fades with each day. Work was done to tame the beast of anxiety while they were here and beforehand, but no attention was focused on how to handle his leaving.

So the ragged hole of emptiness visited, less intense than the days after his departure for college, then the move to another state, then marriage. With his marriage came more settled feelings of satisfaction in place of need.

The feeling of loss coupled with anxiety re-visits from time to time, the nostalgia of boys at home to care for, of family life. But times were hard then too, scorched with PTSD issues, entwinements with the family of origin, and my mother not allowing the truth be told which blocked true healing from what her sons had done.

Family now is Samuel and me. My close friend who chatted with me via email, phone, and by visiting on a frequent and regular basis died several years ago; a friendship later in life that was the closest ever experienced.

Other friends are not inclined to call or email perhaps because we don’t share a history of childhood trauma as Sue and I did. Though we didn’t talk much about it, we felt it, and how it touched our lives in the present. This bonded us in ways lacking with others. Ours was a once in a lifetime friendship, a friend so close, words were not needed.

Cory is close like that. Maybe that isn’t healthy between mother and son, but it is so. Samuel is a kind and sweet man, and the thought of living without him is terrifying. He is also lonely to be with at times. When Cory leaves it is hard to return to my quiet life. Acceptance is not my forte. I am a cat on a hot tin roof landing with the burn of anxiousness.

The separation separates me from myself. Feeling lost. Gather the parts. Bring them home. Paste them on, yet away they flutter to be harnessed again, stuck back on; waiting for wholeness, to be heard, understood, to feel close to one other human.

Meditation grounds me to my center with relief. Walks in the meadow on a sunny day almost 50 degrees helps blood flow. A fresh approach to the studio where work has gone stale is in process wondering what’s to come as its cleaned down to the bones to begin again new.