Strictures within the confines of healthy needs for my body make me feel trapped, rebellious, craving freedom with no restraints.
Ignoring thirst and drinking less due to problems of low blood sodium no one knows why occurred causes a revolt downing an extra can of sparkling water.
That causes an extra trip to the bathroom at night, bam! Negative thoughts cave in along with PTSD- no more sleep past 1 or 2AM. My suspicion is that my nightly struggles are at least partly my fault, and this latest battle might just be that simple, an increase in fluid.
Another daily struggle, as food has always been used to numb out since age 8, is staying under the caloric limit set by myself to maintain weight, or more hopefully lose, the latter not something occurring since Thanksgiving when three pounds were packed on as if making a snowman.
To act disciplined? That is what fuels self-esteem but tell it to the part that kicks back at authority, wails against hearing ‘no’, and pushes against the prison bars or doing what needs to be done to be healthy.
If you look beyond the willfulness there lies a lonely, desperate child needing love. It goes way back to then, this hole, this need, this craving, the rebellion.
Will some one fill it? Can I? The brutal winter has torn me down like a pool of mop water dirtied and murky.
No answers come from within, only questions with unfulfilled needs. I feel like a seedling hit with frost, a growing interior thwarted by the icy cold.
Latest trail cam photo by the creek where I walk and rest…
Though winter takes a substantial chunk out of my already serious minded self, causing a mild depression to color my world more darkly, there is still fun and magic to be had. One only has to make it.
A walk by moonlight, then a fire, all while darkness slowly turns to dawn. The warmth of the fire soothing, sparks flying as an air current oxygenates it brightly.
Then a call from our son after he drops off his eldest at Middle School, a daily pleasure looked forward to with the phone by my side, making sure I’m back inside to catch it by 7AM.
The other son usually video chats at the same time, bringing us both to the island at their house in a neighboring state while the grand-kids, one 6, one 2, and one 1, all eat breakfast. The eldest granddaughter usually is in charge of us through the tablet.
After the first ten minutes of removing my glove to take photos, that had to stop because my fingers were freezing in such frigid temps.
“Did you know the animals talk to me?” I asked my grand-daughter one day.
She smiled in response while I added, “They do. The birds hop along tree to tree all the way down to the creek. And the bunnies stop, sitting still, letting me close, wondering why is this fairy nymph up so early.”
The magic of the meadow is curative, mystical, and wonderous.
The morning crisp with frost called me out as the sun rose sparkling the ground, bushes, and meadow grasses. And back in again for the camera as the beauty was irresistible. Yet my camera cannot catch all the glimmery rainbows dancing off the frozen droplets touched by morning’s kiss of sunrise.
A leaf peeping trip through the deep hills nearby to see color before they ‘fall.’ Then our favorite stop at a stony beach by a sparkling lake. After finding driftwood and smooth stones for the ladybug project, we follow the lake home for more eye popping color.
My five year old grand-daughter saw something similar at the town fair while here a month ago and just had to snitch the idea for her as a gift.