The prompt: Staycationing | It's summertime and the livin' is
easy. Tell us about where you are RIGHT NOW. Tell us about your summer
time at home. Does "home" mean heading out of town for the season?
Does it mean an extended staycation? What does summer at home mean to
you?
We recently returned from two weeks spent in Chiloquin, Ore., near Crater Lake National Park. Two lovely cool weeks in our little Sallie Forth travel trailer, in a marvelous large site in Collier Memorial State Park. We used the electric blanket most nights. We used the furnace most mornings and evenings. At home, temperatures were in the 100s, dipping for a few days into the low 90s, but we left here in 106 degree heat.
And then we spent just an overnight in the San Francisco area -- I had an appointment with the cardiologist who will do my afib ablation later this summer -- and it too was gloriously cool, and we spent the afternoon exploring the areas where we met and used to live, watching waves crashing into the shore at the Pacifica Pier, eating seafood paella at a beachfront restaurant, smelling the salt air and the wild dill that perfumes the coastline there.
And we are getting ready to go again: to the Seattle area to visit daughter and grandchildren, to have some quiet downtime by the ocean and also to explore some areas we've briefly visited but want to see more of.
Last summer, tired of the heat, we vowed to spend more time away from it this summer -- and we are. With 114 on our front porch today, it is too hot to enjoy anything except a good book and a tall glass of water with lemon.
Showing posts with label Reverb. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reverb. Show all posts
Monday, July 14, 2014
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Reverb#14 for May -- cleaning house
Spring cleaning | How are you cleaning out your life
and cleaning out your writing in preparation for a new season?
Reflect. Photograph. Think.
Huh. I don't really do 'spring' cleaning, I do 'when the clutter fairy strikes me' cleaning. I sort through my closet twice a year when I bring seasonal stuff into the main closet, and always have bags of things I no longer wear or like -- funny how that works. Sometimes it takes me a few years to discard something that I theoretically like but somehow don't wear. Ditto with shoes -- perfectly good shoes, but I don't wear them....and eventually they get passed on to someone or put in a donation bag.
Unfortunately medical issues have for the last couple of years prompted me to think about my life and make changes in what no longer works or serves my best interests. Like caffeine: I like my morning cup of coffee black and strong, but with recurring atrial fibrillation, I have finally decided that it doesn't help minimize those episodes, so now I'm getting used to decaf or herbal tea in the morning and the occasional decaf coffee.
Another huge change I made starting late last fall was to relinquish my responsibilities as my daughter's disability payee. For a variety of reasons that had caused me tremendous stress and angst, and also was not good for our relationship. She now has a company payee and I am completely out of that loop. When we speak or get together now, conversation does not center on money.
To keep my head squarely in a decent place during all this medical challenge stuff, I've gone back to the energy exercises I used more than a year ago in preparation for ankle surgery: grounding every day and focusing on bringing in good energy. Oprah and Deepok Chopra offered a free 21-day meditation series during this time which I did pretty faithfully, and it also helped a lot, especially with the mantras. I've downloaded several meditation podcasts to my iPod and have used them to help me relax and sleep at night, but also intend to build that into my daily routine as I did with the Oprah ones.
As I come across things that are no longer useful to me, or that someone else might benefit from having, I have given them away or set them aside. But this is not seasonal...this is ongoing, and will be, I suspect, for a long time to come. We both are determined to tackle the attic next winter when it is cool again and discard old files and things we stored there for lack of a better place to put them.
I have lived in this house longer than I lived anywhere. My parents lived in the same house in Missouri for 40 years, but I was there only for eight before I left for college, and then lived there in the summers until I married four years later. Mother was really good at clearing out clutter and collaborated with her friends to hold a huge garage sale yearly. It's time to get better at letting things go, especially things I will not miss at all.
The writing I do anymore is right here on this blog. I don't know that there will ever be the book I thought there would be. I don't know that the memoirs I thought I might write will ever get written, at least in some sequential format. Part of that is because of the enormous marketing effort an author must make during the publishing process, either through traditional publishers or by self-publishing. That seems too much like WORK to me, and I don't know that I am dedicated enough to do it, and question if publishing is really as important to me as I once thought it was. So for now, what I'm writing is posted here. And right now, the blog readership is pretty low -- but neither am I promoting it on websites or even in my signature lines, just because this writing is really for me, and if someone likes it and finds it helpful, that's great too.
Things can change. That much I know is true. For now, I'll work on the physical decluttering, for along with that comes the mental clearing too.
Huh. I don't really do 'spring' cleaning, I do 'when the clutter fairy strikes me' cleaning. I sort through my closet twice a year when I bring seasonal stuff into the main closet, and always have bags of things I no longer wear or like -- funny how that works. Sometimes it takes me a few years to discard something that I theoretically like but somehow don't wear. Ditto with shoes -- perfectly good shoes, but I don't wear them....and eventually they get passed on to someone or put in a donation bag.
Unfortunately medical issues have for the last couple of years prompted me to think about my life and make changes in what no longer works or serves my best interests. Like caffeine: I like my morning cup of coffee black and strong, but with recurring atrial fibrillation, I have finally decided that it doesn't help minimize those episodes, so now I'm getting used to decaf or herbal tea in the morning and the occasional decaf coffee.
Another huge change I made starting late last fall was to relinquish my responsibilities as my daughter's disability payee. For a variety of reasons that had caused me tremendous stress and angst, and also was not good for our relationship. She now has a company payee and I am completely out of that loop. When we speak or get together now, conversation does not center on money.
To keep my head squarely in a decent place during all this medical challenge stuff, I've gone back to the energy exercises I used more than a year ago in preparation for ankle surgery: grounding every day and focusing on bringing in good energy. Oprah and Deepok Chopra offered a free 21-day meditation series during this time which I did pretty faithfully, and it also helped a lot, especially with the mantras. I've downloaded several meditation podcasts to my iPod and have used them to help me relax and sleep at night, but also intend to build that into my daily routine as I did with the Oprah ones.
As I come across things that are no longer useful to me, or that someone else might benefit from having, I have given them away or set them aside. But this is not seasonal...this is ongoing, and will be, I suspect, for a long time to come. We both are determined to tackle the attic next winter when it is cool again and discard old files and things we stored there for lack of a better place to put them.
I have lived in this house longer than I lived anywhere. My parents lived in the same house in Missouri for 40 years, but I was there only for eight before I left for college, and then lived there in the summers until I married four years later. Mother was really good at clearing out clutter and collaborated with her friends to hold a huge garage sale yearly. It's time to get better at letting things go, especially things I will not miss at all.
The writing I do anymore is right here on this blog. I don't know that there will ever be the book I thought there would be. I don't know that the memoirs I thought I might write will ever get written, at least in some sequential format. Part of that is because of the enormous marketing effort an author must make during the publishing process, either through traditional publishers or by self-publishing. That seems too much like WORK to me, and I don't know that I am dedicated enough to do it, and question if publishing is really as important to me as I once thought it was. So for now, what I'm writing is posted here. And right now, the blog readership is pretty low -- but neither am I promoting it on websites or even in my signature lines, just because this writing is really for me, and if someone likes it and finds it helpful, that's great too.
Things can change. That much I know is true. For now, I'll work on the physical decluttering, for along with that comes the mental clearing too.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Reverb 14: Lady Luck?
Luck | Is luck what you get? Or is luck what you make? When have you been lucky? When did you create your own fortune?
In the play "Jake's Women," by Neil Simon, there is a character named Edith who is the title character's psychiatrist and a somewhat peppery, pull-no-punches one. She tells Jake, "We create our own destiny. There are always options."
Ever since I got to play Edith long ago in Birmingham, Ala., I have pretty much lived by that line, and more than once I have actively pursued an outcome that I wanted -- and succeeded in attaining it, although I will say that few things ever happen EXACTLY as you envision them. There always seem to be a few curves thrown in just because the Universe likes to watch.
Like Edith, I believe luck is what you make -- although that does not explain why some people seem to be able to walk into a casino, for instance, and walk out many dollars ahead, time after time. (I make an annual $20 donation to whatever tribe has the casino, it seems, and very rarely have I walked away with more than I left there.)
Luck is having the courage to walk through an open door that appears after you've already done a lot of excavation and exploration. Luck is risking your current rut, comfortable or not, for something that seems like it will work better for you at that time. Luck is making a phone call or applying for a job or going to a meeting where you know nobody, and finding that your life has changed in ways you would never have imagined.
Luck is not random, except in Bunco or, perhaps, in gambling games of chance. Then we call it luck, but there is nothing calculated or planned about it.
When I realized at almost age 50 that I did not want to look back at the end of my life and wonder 'what if...', I began to build a new life: I picked where I 'knew' I needed to be: California, near the ocean --and then began to work actively to make that move happen. I solicited advice and help from practically anyone in my company who might be able to help me do that, and eventually it paid off with a job offer in one of the San Francisco branches. There were glitches and heartaches and scary moments along the way, but I moved more than halfway across the country because I knew I had to do this.
Had I been told at that time, some 17 years ago, I would eventually live in a rural northern California community with the great love of my life (and a bunch of spoiled kitties) in a house we designed and had built, I would have snorted in amusement. And total disbelief.
Yet here I am.
I created my own destiny, and was blessed to find someone (taking that risk of walking into something unknown) who also believed in creating his own destiny. We visualized what we wanted, and we worked hard to make it happen.
Until we get to the very end of our lives, until we are drawing our last breath, we can always create our own destiny....we always have options....Options. Thank you, Edith.
***********
I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.
~ Hermann Hesse (Siddhartha)
In the play "Jake's Women," by Neil Simon, there is a character named Edith who is the title character's psychiatrist and a somewhat peppery, pull-no-punches one. She tells Jake, "We create our own destiny. There are always options."
Ever since I got to play Edith long ago in Birmingham, Ala., I have pretty much lived by that line, and more than once I have actively pursued an outcome that I wanted -- and succeeded in attaining it, although I will say that few things ever happen EXACTLY as you envision them. There always seem to be a few curves thrown in just because the Universe likes to watch.
Like Edith, I believe luck is what you make -- although that does not explain why some people seem to be able to walk into a casino, for instance, and walk out many dollars ahead, time after time. (I make an annual $20 donation to whatever tribe has the casino, it seems, and very rarely have I walked away with more than I left there.)
Luck is having the courage to walk through an open door that appears after you've already done a lot of excavation and exploration. Luck is risking your current rut, comfortable or not, for something that seems like it will work better for you at that time. Luck is making a phone call or applying for a job or going to a meeting where you know nobody, and finding that your life has changed in ways you would never have imagined.
Luck is not random, except in Bunco or, perhaps, in gambling games of chance. Then we call it luck, but there is nothing calculated or planned about it.
When I realized at almost age 50 that I did not want to look back at the end of my life and wonder 'what if...', I began to build a new life: I picked where I 'knew' I needed to be: California, near the ocean --and then began to work actively to make that move happen. I solicited advice and help from practically anyone in my company who might be able to help me do that, and eventually it paid off with a job offer in one of the San Francisco branches. There were glitches and heartaches and scary moments along the way, but I moved more than halfway across the country because I knew I had to do this.
Had I been told at that time, some 17 years ago, I would eventually live in a rural northern California community with the great love of my life (and a bunch of spoiled kitties) in a house we designed and had built, I would have snorted in amusement. And total disbelief.
Yet here I am.
I created my own destiny, and was blessed to find someone (taking that risk of walking into something unknown) who also believed in creating his own destiny. We visualized what we wanted, and we worked hard to make it happen.
Until we get to the very end of our lives, until we are drawing our last breath, we can always create our own destiny....we always have options....Options. Thank you, Edith.
***********
I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.
~ Hermann Hesse (Siddhartha)
Monday, February 24, 2014
February Reverb -- Ya gotta have heart
The prompt for February is, of course, about HEART.
Heart | Show us your heart. Let it all hang out. When have you thrown yourself into a challenge, or shown/received love?
One thing that is becoming more clear as I grow older is that my understanding, my appreciation and gratitude for certain things expands and deepens with age. Yeah, sort of like the fine wine thing, I suppose. And I have to believe it's good, even when it is scary.
Love for my children, for instance. Oh, when they're young and tender and so vulnerable and innocent, you love them more than anything in the world and would do anything to keep them safe. It is very hard to let that instinct go when they're old enough to make adult decisions and live with the consequences of those choices, especially when the consequences are just devastatingly harmful (from my perspective, anyway, and any person with half a brain could SEE that if they would just open their eyes and ears and LISTEN to their mother....)
((Excuse me.))
Watching that happen is scary-awful for a parent who has tried hard to be a responsible, loving, supportive parent. And. There. Is. NOTHING. You. Can. Do. To. FIX. ANYTHING. Which is even more scary-awful because you could fix anything once upon a time, remember?
I've had to do way more watching than I could ever have imagined. I have watched my children in situations that are light-years distant from any experience in my whole life, and I don't mean that in a good way. My heart has shredded itself with worry and fear and grief and anger and disgust. It has wept for days and weeks over things I cannot change for them. It has resolved to back off, to let it go to God, to put my focus on myself, which I work on every damned day, with some success, actually. But it still hurts with every new sad revelation, and I have to remind myself again that mine is the only life I can save.
Love for my spouse...spouse: such an impersonal word for the person who means more to me than anyone, whose opinion I value more than my own, whose heart I hold within my own heart. The relationship we have is one I coveted for years as I watched the fairly rare couples who had it, and when my first marriage ended, I knew I would never settle for anything less, even if it meant being single for the rest of my life. Blessedly, the Universe threw us in each other's path very quickly, and we had enough sanity left to recognize what a miracle we had. It has only deepened and grown in the 16+ years since we met for the first time on a Pacifica beach. I am so grateful to be loved and cherished the way I am, and I am so blessed to have him to love and cherish back. There is not a day that ends without each of us expressing that love and gratitude to the other.
Love for life. As I age, I am far more aware of just how very fragile we are physically, especially, and how a moment can change everything. That's come from a few accidents -- a badly broken wrist from a parking lot fall, a kidney full of blood from a rehearsal mishap -- and medical crises -- a gangrenous gall bladder discovered after three days of thinking the pain and fever were a heart attack, the death of a friend from a bad infection that didn't get medical attention quickly enough. My afib can cause a great deal of anxiety about my heart health -- although that is also tied up in that misdiagnosed heart attack from 12 years ago! Aches and pains and bumps and bruises can trigger intensive scrutiny: is that normal or is that indicative of something bad? Like many seniors, I am careful where I put my feet these days, and while we don't have the curse of icy surfaces out here, we do have uneven and rocky ground which can cause a stumble which can result in injury.
Balancing reasonable care with unsubstantiated fear is sometimes challenging for me. While we never know just when our number will turn up, it is a terrible thing to live a fearful life, afraid of some accident or illness that will end in our death. None of us is going to make it out of here alive, I understand that. But I also am not ready to let go of this wildly beautiful, unpredictable experience called life. So I try to stay healthy, go for checkups, eat healthy foods (with daily treats, but not big, horrible, heart-attack-on-a-plate ones), and move this body in some kind of exercise every day, even if it is just parking the car a bit further from the grocery store doors for more of a walk. I want time, more time, with my honey, with my kitties. More time to read and write and listen and watch and enjoy and be grateful. More time to expand my heart, to do things that bring me joy. And not to be overly anxious.
Love for others. I don't think any of my friends is going to call me a social butterfly. I am by nature an introvert, but I can function well in extrovert mode for a time (and then I want to come home, sit in my chair, sip tea, pet a cat, and think about the social experience I just had). I am a very loyal person: it takes some time to cultivate a friendship, a good friendship, but I don't let go of it either, sometimes holding onto it past the time to let it go. (That is unless I am lied to or given reason to distrust a person, and then we're done.)
Nonetheless, I have a handful of dear, trusted friends who I treasure deeply, even those I don't get to see face-to-face very often. I have more acquaintances, people who I know and like, but we haven't grown to be close yet, or maybe never; but just a few truly close friends.
I wasdeeply touched and humbled during my surgical recovery time last year by the friends who brought meals, who sent cards or called, who sat with Tony in the waiting room, who visited me at home while I was non-weight-bearing and pretty much confined to home. I felt blessed and grateful that they cared enough to help, and came away resolved to offer help to others, although I don't know that I've done a very good job of that this year.
Likewise, I was humbled and oh so grateful to the friends who found household things to give to R just recently as she moved into a new place following a horrific domestic abuse and violence experience, where she just left one day with a suitcase and her cats, leaving furniture, treasures, clothing, and household furnishings behind. Within a week she was in a safe place and had everything she needed, and we found thrifted, nice furniture for amazingly low prices too. That these generous friends responded so quickly and lovingly was yet another sign for me that angels are indeed among us, and that I am blessed to know several of them.
I understand more now how rare this kind of friendship is, how much effort it takes from both people to grow it, and how much it can mean as we age. More of that, please: a challenge for myself.
Love for oneself. Perhaps this is the hardest of all: to love who we are, warts and all, insecurities, ugly thoughts, body and personality flaws, and all the negative thinking that accompanies it. While I am never going to be thin, an executive career woman, rich, stylish, a tireless volunteer for good causes, or even a best-selling writer or actress or speaker, I am still a person worthy of love and beauty and kindness. I forgive myself for things in my past, some of which only I still remember. I forgive myself for not being perfect. I forgive myself for unkindness -- which also extends to me -- and resolve to keep kindness in my thoughts and words, despite the sometimes overwhelming urge to be sarcastic and snippy and negative just because I am good at it.
As I age, I want to be positive-thinking, generous in spirit, and most of all, kind. A kind word can mean more than its speaker can ever imagine. I want to make this my daily spiritual practice: kindness both to myself and to others.
But likewise, I want to give myself permission to walk away from negative people and situations, from people or situations who make the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, from anything that makes the little alarm bells go off in my head and in my gut. Without apology. Without regret. Just walk away.
This life is too short to do things that make me feel compromised or unsettled or to be with people who don't like me and who make me question things I know to be true. No more. Not now, not ever.
I am worth kindness. I am worth love and self-respect. I am a good, ethical person. And I do not need to compromise who I am for anyone.
This is true heart. This is being true to my heart and my soul.
Heart | Show us your heart. Let it all hang out. When have you thrown yourself into a challenge, or shown/received love?
One thing that is becoming more clear as I grow older is that my understanding, my appreciation and gratitude for certain things expands and deepens with age. Yeah, sort of like the fine wine thing, I suppose. And I have to believe it's good, even when it is scary.
Love for my children, for instance. Oh, when they're young and tender and so vulnerable and innocent, you love them more than anything in the world and would do anything to keep them safe. It is very hard to let that instinct go when they're old enough to make adult decisions and live with the consequences of those choices, especially when the consequences are just devastatingly harmful (from my perspective, anyway, and any person with half a brain could SEE that if they would just open their eyes and ears and LISTEN to their mother....)
((Excuse me.))
Watching that happen is scary-awful for a parent who has tried hard to be a responsible, loving, supportive parent. And. There. Is. NOTHING. You. Can. Do. To. FIX. ANYTHING. Which is even more scary-awful because you could fix anything once upon a time, remember?
I've had to do way more watching than I could ever have imagined. I have watched my children in situations that are light-years distant from any experience in my whole life, and I don't mean that in a good way. My heart has shredded itself with worry and fear and grief and anger and disgust. It has wept for days and weeks over things I cannot change for them. It has resolved to back off, to let it go to God, to put my focus on myself, which I work on every damned day, with some success, actually. But it still hurts with every new sad revelation, and I have to remind myself again that mine is the only life I can save.
Love for my spouse...spouse: such an impersonal word for the person who means more to me than anyone, whose opinion I value more than my own, whose heart I hold within my own heart. The relationship we have is one I coveted for years as I watched the fairly rare couples who had it, and when my first marriage ended, I knew I would never settle for anything less, even if it meant being single for the rest of my life. Blessedly, the Universe threw us in each other's path very quickly, and we had enough sanity left to recognize what a miracle we had. It has only deepened and grown in the 16+ years since we met for the first time on a Pacifica beach. I am so grateful to be loved and cherished the way I am, and I am so blessed to have him to love and cherish back. There is not a day that ends without each of us expressing that love and gratitude to the other.
Love for life. As I age, I am far more aware of just how very fragile we are physically, especially, and how a moment can change everything. That's come from a few accidents -- a badly broken wrist from a parking lot fall, a kidney full of blood from a rehearsal mishap -- and medical crises -- a gangrenous gall bladder discovered after three days of thinking the pain and fever were a heart attack, the death of a friend from a bad infection that didn't get medical attention quickly enough. My afib can cause a great deal of anxiety about my heart health -- although that is also tied up in that misdiagnosed heart attack from 12 years ago! Aches and pains and bumps and bruises can trigger intensive scrutiny: is that normal or is that indicative of something bad? Like many seniors, I am careful where I put my feet these days, and while we don't have the curse of icy surfaces out here, we do have uneven and rocky ground which can cause a stumble which can result in injury.
Balancing reasonable care with unsubstantiated fear is sometimes challenging for me. While we never know just when our number will turn up, it is a terrible thing to live a fearful life, afraid of some accident or illness that will end in our death. None of us is going to make it out of here alive, I understand that. But I also am not ready to let go of this wildly beautiful, unpredictable experience called life. So I try to stay healthy, go for checkups, eat healthy foods (with daily treats, but not big, horrible, heart-attack-on-a-plate ones), and move this body in some kind of exercise every day, even if it is just parking the car a bit further from the grocery store doors for more of a walk. I want time, more time, with my honey, with my kitties. More time to read and write and listen and watch and enjoy and be grateful. More time to expand my heart, to do things that bring me joy. And not to be overly anxious.
Love for others. I don't think any of my friends is going to call me a social butterfly. I am by nature an introvert, but I can function well in extrovert mode for a time (and then I want to come home, sit in my chair, sip tea, pet a cat, and think about the social experience I just had). I am a very loyal person: it takes some time to cultivate a friendship, a good friendship, but I don't let go of it either, sometimes holding onto it past the time to let it go. (That is unless I am lied to or given reason to distrust a person, and then we're done.)
Nonetheless, I have a handful of dear, trusted friends who I treasure deeply, even those I don't get to see face-to-face very often. I have more acquaintances, people who I know and like, but we haven't grown to be close yet, or maybe never; but just a few truly close friends.
I wasdeeply touched and humbled during my surgical recovery time last year by the friends who brought meals, who sent cards or called, who sat with Tony in the waiting room, who visited me at home while I was non-weight-bearing and pretty much confined to home. I felt blessed and grateful that they cared enough to help, and came away resolved to offer help to others, although I don't know that I've done a very good job of that this year.
Likewise, I was humbled and oh so grateful to the friends who found household things to give to R just recently as she moved into a new place following a horrific domestic abuse and violence experience, where she just left one day with a suitcase and her cats, leaving furniture, treasures, clothing, and household furnishings behind. Within a week she was in a safe place and had everything she needed, and we found thrifted, nice furniture for amazingly low prices too. That these generous friends responded so quickly and lovingly was yet another sign for me that angels are indeed among us, and that I am blessed to know several of them.
I understand more now how rare this kind of friendship is, how much effort it takes from both people to grow it, and how much it can mean as we age. More of that, please: a challenge for myself.
Love for oneself. Perhaps this is the hardest of all: to love who we are, warts and all, insecurities, ugly thoughts, body and personality flaws, and all the negative thinking that accompanies it. While I am never going to be thin, an executive career woman, rich, stylish, a tireless volunteer for good causes, or even a best-selling writer or actress or speaker, I am still a person worthy of love and beauty and kindness. I forgive myself for things in my past, some of which only I still remember. I forgive myself for not being perfect. I forgive myself for unkindness -- which also extends to me -- and resolve to keep kindness in my thoughts and words, despite the sometimes overwhelming urge to be sarcastic and snippy and negative just because I am good at it.
As I age, I want to be positive-thinking, generous in spirit, and most of all, kind. A kind word can mean more than its speaker can ever imagine. I want to make this my daily spiritual practice: kindness both to myself and to others.
But likewise, I want to give myself permission to walk away from negative people and situations, from people or situations who make the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, from anything that makes the little alarm bells go off in my head and in my gut. Without apology. Without regret. Just walk away.
This life is too short to do things that make me feel compromised or unsettled or to be with people who don't like me and who make me question things I know to be true. No more. Not now, not ever.
I am worth kindness. I am worth love and self-respect. I am a good, ethical person. And I do not need to compromise who I am for anyone.
This is true heart. This is being true to my heart and my soul.
Friday, January 17, 2014
A January Reverb prompt -- woohoo!
One of the Reverb teams I followed during December's look back at 2013 is sending monthly prompts this year, which is a great way to check in with oneself. When you have to really think about your days and activities, patterns emerge, thoughts clarify, actions take on new importance. Thank you, Meredith, Sarah, and Kat.
This month's prompt: Routine | Have you started a new routine this January? Is this routine different from last year? Is it the result of a resolution or goal you're working on? Tell us about your days. How do they flow? If you'd like, maybe give us a full "day in the life" or just some snippets.
Oops. Welll....I hit 'publish' when I meant to hit 'save,' so let me try to catch up!
The routine I had envisioned for myself this January got shot all to pieces when my daughter finally became ready to move out of what we have dubbed 'The Orc Nest,' the house in which she has lived with her now ex-boyfriend and paid rent (and many other bills), and which has been taken over by squatters (at the invitation of the ex, who has gone down that slippery drug and alcohol slope big time). With help from us, she found a new place to live that she can afford on her own, and generous friends of mine have helped furnish it. She is clear-eyed, ready to move in a new direction, and I am so, so grateful.
The miracles began New Year's Day when someone called here trying to find the owner of a phone found at Walmart (hers had been stolen yet again, given to some creepazoid by her ex to 'use' and then presumably to return, which he did not). The woman who found it did not want anything other than to return it to the owner, and asked only that R pay it forward. Since then, good things have happened nearly every day, and she is safely in a new place, working with two agencies to get counseling and help.
I have been involved in helping her move, getting donated items, providing transportation when necessary, and giving lots of attagirls (the same ex is responsible directly or indirectly for her car being stolen three times. Yes, three. It has not been recovered from the last theft.)
I am also trying to keep a healthy perspective which has not been easy to do because while I am so very grateful for this new direction, I also realize the very long road ahead and possibility for regression, since we have seen this movie before. This feels different, and there is a support team in place, so I am hopeful.
So the anxiety is still there but has changed perspective, and I understand that I still must resist the urge to control any aspect of this. I still ask the angels for help. I still say constant gratitude prayers. I am humbled by the love shown to me and to her by friends. And I am determined to continue with MY life and activities as well.
So it was back to yoga this week and good intentions for tai chi, even meeting a friend at the gym, only to discover the instructor was out with a serious diagnosis. But the friend and I spent a great hour talking anyawy, and we will try again next week. But as she moves forward into her new reality, I must move forward into mine, thankful that for now I have a positive relationship with both my daughters.
I also have been acclimating a new cat into our outdoor world: he is R's outdoor cat who she knew would be better and safer here than where she had been (and she has two indoor cats who moved with her). He has been living in our shop and has bonded with me; her two other cats stayed there for about a week too while she was between the Orc nest and her new place. So now we are trying to introduce him to the outside and our four outdoor cats. The door is open today, the cats are wandering in and out, and he has come as far as the open door but no further yet.
It's one day at a time for all of us, hm. That's all we ever get anyway, this one day today. I am so grateful for it!
This month's prompt: Routine | Have you started a new routine this January? Is this routine different from last year? Is it the result of a resolution or goal you're working on? Tell us about your days. How do they flow? If you'd like, maybe give us a full "day in the life" or just some snippets.
Oops. Welll....I hit 'publish' when I meant to hit 'save,' so let me try to catch up!
The routine I had envisioned for myself this January got shot all to pieces when my daughter finally became ready to move out of what we have dubbed 'The Orc Nest,' the house in which she has lived with her now ex-boyfriend and paid rent (and many other bills), and which has been taken over by squatters (at the invitation of the ex, who has gone down that slippery drug and alcohol slope big time). With help from us, she found a new place to live that she can afford on her own, and generous friends of mine have helped furnish it. She is clear-eyed, ready to move in a new direction, and I am so, so grateful.
The miracles began New Year's Day when someone called here trying to find the owner of a phone found at Walmart (hers had been stolen yet again, given to some creepazoid by her ex to 'use' and then presumably to return, which he did not). The woman who found it did not want anything other than to return it to the owner, and asked only that R pay it forward. Since then, good things have happened nearly every day, and she is safely in a new place, working with two agencies to get counseling and help.
I have been involved in helping her move, getting donated items, providing transportation when necessary, and giving lots of attagirls (the same ex is responsible directly or indirectly for her car being stolen three times. Yes, three. It has not been recovered from the last theft.)
I am also trying to keep a healthy perspective which has not been easy to do because while I am so very grateful for this new direction, I also realize the very long road ahead and possibility for regression, since we have seen this movie before. This feels different, and there is a support team in place, so I am hopeful.
So the anxiety is still there but has changed perspective, and I understand that I still must resist the urge to control any aspect of this. I still ask the angels for help. I still say constant gratitude prayers. I am humbled by the love shown to me and to her by friends. And I am determined to continue with MY life and activities as well.
So it was back to yoga this week and good intentions for tai chi, even meeting a friend at the gym, only to discover the instructor was out with a serious diagnosis. But the friend and I spent a great hour talking anyawy, and we will try again next week. But as she moves forward into her new reality, I must move forward into mine, thankful that for now I have a positive relationship with both my daughters.
I also have been acclimating a new cat into our outdoor world: he is R's outdoor cat who she knew would be better and safer here than where she had been (and she has two indoor cats who moved with her). He has been living in our shop and has bonded with me; her two other cats stayed there for about a week too while she was between the Orc nest and her new place. So now we are trying to introduce him to the outside and our four outdoor cats. The door is open today, the cats are wandering in and out, and he has come as far as the open door but no further yet.
It's one day at a time for all of us, hm. That's all we ever get anyway, this one day today. I am so grateful for it!
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