Rear View Mirror

What a terrible year.

Goodbye, 2023. You were brutal. 

We survived, though. 

That's something.

On we go. 

Headache/Rest

Be There

 Herself speaks.

Yesterday evening, I went to the services for a recently-deceased relative of my lovely mother-in-law. Though I didn't know the decedent personally, I'm glad I went, because my mother-in-law is a saint who walks among us, and she is deserving of all the love and support when her heart is heavy. 

As I drove myself there (and marveled at the miracle that is GPS, which allows me to venture forth to completely unfamiliar places where I would not have had the courage or wherewithal to go a decade ago), I thought about the fact that I would likely know virtually know one there, except for my mother-in-law, my very kind brother-in-law, and Beloved Husband. But ultimately, that would not be a problem because I was on a very specific mission: to be there for my mother-in-law. 

And as I drove myself home afterward, I thought about being there, and what it means. 

I was never actually taught how to be there. Different families cope with Feelings in different ways, and growing up and as a young adult, I was not witness (nor a party) to how one comforts a person experiencing grief or loss or Big Emotions of any kinds. Nor was I at all adept at making friends who might have been able to provide those lessons. I've done the best I can to figure it out along the way. 

I generally think that people are actually Terrible at sitting with other peoples' Feelings, especially sadness. That's not a criticism. People so often want to fix things -- especially if the things are Things that make people they care about sad -- and they just don't know what to do when things are unfixable.  So oftentimes, people just... make light, or offer platitudes, or ignore the pain. Or make the grieving person feel ashamed for an outward display of emotion. Or run away. 

My choice: to sit with other people in their Sorrow. 

Sometimes, a person needs their Sorrow to be heard and acknowledged, without criticism, and without judgment. And that is my mission: to hear, to acknowledge. To witness. To be there. 

That is the Person I would want there with me, in my time of Sorrow. 

Even at times when my own heart is heavy for its own reasons, knowing that I can be there for someone important to me, gives value and meaning to my life, and takes the edge off of my own individual sorrow. And that will be enough. 

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other? - George Eliot

End-of-year Meme

Too soon? Hopefully, not inviting the last few days of 2023 to be more wretched. 

It's been... a long year. 

J'apprends

Joyeux Noel

Best Bumper Sticker Yet

Blessing For The Longest Night

All throughout these months

as the shadows

have lengthened,

this blessing has been

gathering itself,

making ready,

preparing for

this night.

It has practiced

walking in the dark,

traveling with

its eyes closed,

feeling its way

by memory

by touch

by the pull of the moon

even as it wanes.

So believe me

when I tell you

this blessing will

reach you

even if you

have not light enough

to read it;

it will find you

even though you cannot

see it coming.

You will know

the moment of its

arriving

by your release

of the breath

you have held

so long;

a loosening

of the clenching

in your hands,

of the clutch

around your heart;

a thinning

of the darkness

that had drawn itself

around you.

This blessing

does not mean

to take the night away

but it knows

its hidden roads,

knows the resting spots

along the path,

knows what it means

to travel

in the company

of a friend.

So when

this blessing comes,

take its hand.

Get up.

Set out on the road

you cannot see.

This is the night

when you can trust

that any direction

you go,

you will be walking

toward the dawn.

—Jan Richardson,

from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief

Morning Walk

Inflection Point

 Herself speaks.

Sometimes, there is a moment in time which turns into an Inflection Point: life's trajectory bends one way beforehand, and angles off in a different direction afterward. Such moments may be invisible -- like in the movies, when the protagonist stops to tie a shoe, and misses the fateful bus that would have crashed and cut short an otherwise long and fruitful life. Or they may be profound, as when the villain is at last defeated and the villagers can finally begin to live in peace. 

Or, the moment can be a conversation that causes reevaluation of history, as well as reassessment of how to move forward. Did I do the right things? What are the right things? Did I do all I could, given the information I had? What happens next? 

I participated in one of those conversations this past weekend. It's not (solely) my story to share, and so the details won't appear here. Still, the earth's axis has shifted ever so slightly, and I find myself just a bit uncertain as to where I am. With time, the new pathway will become clearer. In the meanwhile, I am trying to corral a multitude of Feelings run rampant. 

Perhaps I should just let them run for a bit. 

The only thing I know at the moment is: I have always done the best I can. (I think that's what everyone does, really.) And that's what I'll continue to do. 

Store Your Heart

Herself speaks.

It was a nice day today, so I thought I would do some tidying-up around the outside of the house. I decided to tackle the side yard, for starters.  I threw away accumulated miscellany, and made room in a storage bin for one of Offspring the Third's metal works -- the anatomically-correct heart sculpture. It no longer pumps fluids (thank goodness), but the framework remains intact. I enjoy this piece of art. It speaks to me.

Someday, I would like to own a little piece of land somewhere, and put a tiny house on it -- perhaps a single-wide, or a camper-trailer, or some other sort of cabin or miniature abode. Just enough for a sanctuary to call my own. And I will install this heart on it, make it my Heart Haven, and only those who bring me peace will be allowed to visit me and the heart sculpture there.

Until then, I'll store the heart safely, where it will be unharmed by the elements. A lot can happen to a heart, unexpectedly, even if it's seemingly secure -- best to keep it where it's most likely to be protected, just in case. 

Remind Me

Found my current theme song:  Remind Me (Meghan Trainor).

Lost
Where'd my powers go? Hmm (go, go)
It's like I've forgotten all the good I've done before

And my thoughts stay running, running (running)

The heartbreaks keep coming, coming (coming)
Oh, oh, oh somebody tell me that I'll be okay

Come and find me (find me)
Help me put all this behind me (behind me)
'Cause all that I need is inside me (inside me)
Only your love can remind me (remind me)
Remind me (remind me)
Come and hold me (hold me)
All my emotions unfolding (unfolding)
Tell me you'll always stand by me (stand by me)
I need you to remind me, remind me

Remind me I'm pretty
Remind me I'm loved
Remind me that I am way more than enough
And take all this pain, throw it away
Remind me that I'm gonna sparkle again

Come and find me (find me)
Help me put all this behind me (behind me)
'Cause all that I need is inside me (inside me)
Only your love can remind me (remind me)

Remind me (remind me)
Come and hold me (hold me)
All my emotions unfolding (unfolding)
Tell me you'll always stand by me (stand by me)
I need you to remind me, remind me

Current Mood

 This TikTok snippet from The Birdcage just sums things up so nicely.

(If the video doesn't turn up, you can always find the extended version on YouTube, here - the best part is at 2:12.) 

Windows

Before Carrie Underwood's Before He Cheats (or possibly around the same time, given when the videos appeared on YouTube) there was Jazmine Sullivan, Bust Your Windows.  This song came through my Pandora rotation for some reason, and now it is stuck in my brain. (We'll not contemplate how, when women are portrayed as angry about infidelity, they are a threat to men's cars, but when men are portrayed as angry about infidelity, they are a threat to women's lives. That makes catchy music seem much less fun.) 

At any rate, we'll just listen to this until it works its way out of our system. It's danceable! A good song for misplaced annoyance! Snappy! Enjoy. 

Scrabble, Level Four

 While I was in Oceanside, we played four games of Scrabble. I lost spectacularly in three of the games.  The fourth was a much closer game, and I lost by only a few points (there might be some quibbling about that particular game, because the word that pushed the win was one that I identified as being legal, but it was adjacent to a Words-with-Friends legal word of the same number of points, so I consider it to be a legitimate score). It was a Most Excellent Challenge, each time.

I really do try to win. I try my best. He just sees words better. 

I look forward to more Scrabble, next time.

Truly, Madly, Deeply

Gratitudes

 Herself speaks.

Typically in November, Facebook abounds with a month of postings about gratitudes, in keeping with the Thanksgiving theme of the month.  I did not participate this year, because I am (as is no doubt obvious) still quite mired in my own personal morass. Nevertheless, it occurs to me that if I take a moment here and there to reflect on the things for which I am in fact truly grateful, perhaps I might find a way out of the mental quicksand in which I so often find myself floundering. 

Let's do bullet points:

• Moments of meaningful purpose at work
• A hug that feels both genuine and unrushed (especially because, in this culture of youth and thinness, and in my current state, I feel so very... untouchable)
• Occasions when I can pay a genuine compliment to a stranger
• Undivided attention, and feeling heard
• Being outside, to enjoy trees, animals, nature
• Taking a walk or a hike with good company
• The right words, at the right time: to give them, or to receive them. 

These things seem small, but they are not. At all. As I grow older, the fewer things I want, and the more intangibles I long for. These are the things that are the most important to me. The things that quiet the rage and the grief within me, that bring me momentary tranquility. That lessen The Void. 

I am grateful for the moments of Peace that I can find. And for the people who bring them to me. 

Eels and Lobsters

Let's reminisce about Oceanside with a few sea creature photos. Behold, the eels and the lobsters. Nice. 

The Safety Box and the Switch

 Herself speaks.

Sometimes, I feel sorry for my car.

I have many things to do. House things, volunteer work things, family things, work things. I do a fair amount of running around. One of the few times that I have a moment to myself, is when I am moving from Point A to Point B during my day: in other words, when I am in the car. It's a rare time of reflection, when I can contemplate the thoughts or feelings that I have suppressed due to lack of opportunity to allow them the proper space for air. And unfortunately, the thoughts and feelings that surface are, inevitably, the hard ones. Especially if the drive is long and the road is quiet. 

There are the ones that make tears come to my eyes. Or -- thinking of you, bar exam -- rip a scream from my throat. Or drag a wordless wail of sorrow from the depths of my soul: the pain of loss, the grief of knowing that I cannot have simple things that I long for. Only in the confines of the four walls of my car, alone, with the buffer of the wind surrounding me and the highway rushing past, am I safe to let go. 

My car has heard so much. I am sorry, car. No one should have to listen to that kind of human noise.

Inevitably, I arrive at my destination, and my moment to myself ends. There are likely People at my destination, and obligations, and things to do. 

Time to flip the switch. Turn off the Feelings. Dry my face, leave the safety of the box, and enter the world once more. Composed. Ready. 

We do what we have to do.

Visit

 Herself speaks.

I was finally able to make my pilgrimage to Oceanside and spend a few days with Cherished Friend. 

It was delightful.  In this world of ever-increasing uncertainty, it is so comforting to find him to be Himself, as he always is. My most Cherished Friend. 

I struggled a bit to stay in the Moment during the visit. I am more aware than ever of the ephemeral nature of everything, and I had to reign in my mind and keep it from wandering into the not-too-distant-future when I would be leaving again. I also had a hard time with keeping at bay, what can be described as Fear Fleas: tiny little biting worries that would pop up into the conscious, attempting to distract me from the joy of being in Oceanside.  You are boring. You are needy. He will grow tired of your presence and will be relieved when you go. You rely on him too much. You are all take and no give. 

What do you have to offer a person like him? Why does he even put up with you? 

Only he really has answers to those questions. I hope, though, that despite all of the Very Hard Things I have been struggling with this year, he has nevertheless been able to see that he is, as always, one of my most favorite people on the planet. That listening to him talk about what is on his mind, is one of my favorite things to do. That I value his opinions, his thoughts, and his company. I don't have a lot to give right now, but I happily give what I can to him. 

-----

I already miss his soothing presence. I try not to think bitterly of how I would just do so much better on a daily basis if I saw him more often, because that is not To Be. I'll just have to carry little pieces of the moments in Oceanside with me, and hope they will buoy me through. I'll think about my Cherished Friend sitting in his chair, and I'll look forward to the next visit. And I hope that he will look forward to it, too. 

Friend

Barbara Manatee

Barbara Manatee. And baby manatee. 

Sometimes, Miracles Do Happen

And you DO get to go places. 

Kitten

Mood.

Teamwork

Cookie: make a huge honking mess by digging out the spare litter box.

Poppy: lie down in the mess.

Delightful!

Cozy

The way the buns enjoy being all up-close-and-personal with each other is always very endearing. 

Ginger Snaps

Happy Thanksgiving.

Meow

One of the kitties likes to sit on me on occasion. And I feel a little better, knowing that my aura is not so very sad/grim that it would scare away a small fur friend.

Good kitty. 

Spidey-Meme

Cardboard Chickens

 Herself speaks.

We're approaching the holiday season, and I am in full flashback mode to last year's holidays. Right now, I contemplate Thanksgiving, which I spent with my mother and my father (for his very last Thanksgiving), away from Beloved Husband for the very first time in the thirty-plus years that we've been married (who had a lovely time for the holiday with his mother and one of his siblings and their family and Offspring the Third for the holiday). 

I don't know what to do with all the Grief that has bubbled back up. I didn't actually take care of the Feelings last year since there was so much more to come so there was no time to do anything except to box everything up and put it away for later, and now I am finding Feelings amidst the holiday decoration boxes and I am overwhelmed all over again, can I just box it all back up and pretend the Feelings don't exist? 

We all know that's unwise. Those boxes are going to come home to roost, square ugly cardboard metaphorical chickens of Sorrow and Grief and Anger and Loss and Loneliness, perched next to the Thanksgiving cornucopia, settled in on the Christmas tree branches, wearing New Year's hats. 

Help. 

So many cardboard chickens. 

I searched for "cardboard chicken" and found a YouTube tutorial for making a cardboard chicken mailbox. Maybe I should do this. If for no other reason than it will take my mind off of things for a few moments. 

Tornado

Moo.

Voice

I'm working on it. It is a slow process, and I am not sure I will ever get there. It's important to try, though.

 

Plants

Accurate.

The Memes Have It

Because I allowed myself to anticipate my Plans, and now am suffering the repercussions of thwarted Hope, I'm going to step back for a bit and allow my trove of memes to entertain us for a while. Some are funny, some are heartfelt, and all have a little kernel of meaning, whether silly or deep. 

Let us begin. 

Island

Although I had hoped to be making a pilgrimage to Oceanside, the Universe has conspired against me, and I am in fact going nowhere except for Disappointment Island.

I knew I was taking a risk in making Plans. But the odds were in my favor, based in past experience, so I rolled the dice. And alas. I lost. 

I am so very tired of my hamster wheel of Grief and Responsibility. I wanted a few days of respite, in the company of one of my favorite people, someone who does not add to the Grief and Responsibility. Apparently, though, that was Too Much To Ask.

I have rescheduled my aspirations. (They are no longer "Plans.") I am bitterly certain that the Universe will conspire to thwart me again in the future, however, because I have allowed Despair to sit at my table and Hope has left to go and sulk elsewhere. 

I cannot have nice things, and tonight, there is no consolation to be found. 

We will just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. 

Hard Desert

There's a possibility that, if the stars align and certain things do (or do not) come to pass, that I might be able to make a trip to visit Cherished Friend soon. 

I am trying not to anticipate. Because we all know that the Universe frowns upon Making Plans. 

And I am trying, too, not to think about the fact that if I do go, I will once more arrive on his doorstep fairly exhausted, self-conscious, and feeling... Not My Best Self. Old. Fat and Tired and still Grieving my Father, worn out from work and Responsibility and Nebulous Daily Worry. A Burden.

It makes me sad. I hope that some day, I can visit him with enthusiasm and cheerfulness. As a Better Me. 

The good part, though, is that he is Rain in the Desert. And perhaps, if I can let go, I can be a Better Me for the time I spend in Oceanside. 

Yes, Please, That Would Be Lovely

Grocery Pick-up

Where am I supposed to go, again? 

Find That Word

Already There

Spotted on a trash bin at our local airport. Nice. 

Meme-point

Sometimes, the memes just seem... on point. 

Ah, the duality of neurodivergence. 

Fall

Lovely.

Forever Mood

Fair

 It being Mental Health Awareness Month (depending on whom you ask, it being either May or October), there was a Mental Health Awareness and Resource Fair scheduled to be held at a nearby park this afternoon. Since Beloved Husband planned some time away for one of his hobbies this weekend, I thought I'd take advantage of my alone time to check out this Fair. I'm a fan of supporting open and honest conversation about mental health, especially in a community such as ours where culturally, mental health issues are not easily discussed.  

-----

On my way there, I wondered if perhaps there might be some resources for grief support. I am still struggling, nearly nine months later, with my lovely Daddy's death -- especially this month, when I am slogging through a seemingly endless stream of complex paperwork to meet an estate tax deadline -- and I feel as though I could use some more support. 

It's been a long and lonely road without Daddy, and my resources are few. My brother and sister, though ever so kind and warm and lovely like our Daddy, are far away and tending to their own grief. Beloved Husband, who has thoughtful words when he can stop and listen, is so very busy that he has a hand on the doorknob and a foot either literally or metaphorically out the door much of the time; I am hesitant to interrupt the flow of his complex life to try to turn his attention, because I know he does not have the minutes to spare for me. And I worry a great deal about overburdening Cherished Friend, who kindly reads my texts of Feelings when I can no longer suppress what I am experiencing. I do not want to weigh him down with my difficulties. I fear it will be Too Much, and he will grow weary of me and walk away. As is his right. 

What kind of person am I, if the only thing I have to offer is my sorrow and rage and pining loneliness right now? I have nothing to serve guests at my table except a scalding and bitter tea. I am trying to listen, and support, and Do For Others, as I have always done before (and, in better times, as I have liked to do). Nothing grows in my garden, though, when it is watered only by tears. 

-----

When I arrived to the location of the Fair, there were only two cars in the large parking lot, and not a person in sight. The table in the gateway of the park, where normally the welcome people sit at events, had a handful of painted rocks and a few fliers in plastic upon it. The calendar of events nearby mentioned the Fair and other events, but there was not a soul to be seen.  Only a tumbleweed would have made the scene more picturesque in its emptiness.

It seemed.... apropos, somehow. 

I took a walk through the park. It was quiet, breezy, not too warm. Nice. I admired the sculptures, which I'm not sure I've ever seen in broad daylight before. And I looked for wildlife. I saw a few ducks, several lizards, and a very nice spiderweb.

It wasn't quite a grief support group. But it was, in its own way, a good respite from the Grief.

Monthlong

A whole month, on-call. The entire month of November. Unless I am dismissed. 

I know it is important to the System.  Still - Yikes.

Lick

I do enjoy a good meme. 

LICK. 

Pumpkin Loaf

Trying to do the little things I used to enjoy, like baking, in the hopes they will bring me a bit of happiness again now amidst all the Stuff.  

What's That Feeling

 Please forgive the paucity of communication this week; I've been immersed in a migraine loop that I'm finding hard to break.  I have the good meds on board, and I'm trying, but I feel... terrible. It'll take a bit of time. 

One aspect of heavy-duty-migraine that I have noticed, is that the wall between neutrality and feelings is much, much thinner. Sometimes, I cannot tell if I am experiencing a welling-up of feelings, or the early onset of what will eventually be a surge of migraine.  A little bit of research shows me that there appears to be an association between alexithymia and migraine (as well as between alexithymia and autism). It's intellectually interesting, for sure, and would be more interesting if it weren't for the fact that it all just means that my brain hurts and my feelings are complex and not easily identifiable at the moment. And that I'd rather not be experiencing any of that, thank you very much. 

I'm going to go drink more water to placate the "you're just dehydrated!" migraine-advice-gods, and then maybe lie down for a while more. Maybe I'll feel a feeling or two, and see if that will placate them enough so that they will go away for now. We shall see. 

Fingers crossed. 

I Might Be Tired Of Adulthood

Kitchen

 Herself speaks.

During a Zoom call yesterday evening, Cherished Friend was making a cup of tea and brought the tablet with the Zoom window open on it with him -- so I momentarily had a view around his kitchen, which I haven't seen in person for nearly a year now. And it was so distractingly delightful to have that glimpse of this ordinary space of his life, that it took an extraordinary amount of energy to refocus and remain in the conversation and not allow the unexpected pang generated by the view to inflate and pop right then. 

One of the small blessings of being so extraordinarily busy lately, is that it is easier not to think about how much I miss having my Friend nearby, about the small joys of being able to make a meal, go for a walk, play Scrabble in person. The flip side, though, is the weight when it makes itself known, like a clap of thunder and a cloudburst in the desert -- a deluge of sorrow, of the knowledge of what I am missing. 

This is the price we pay for having a Friend. 

It's always worth the Price, though. 

Gourd Season

It's decorative gourd season!

Oh My Gosh!

Out of the corner of my eye, a dash of fur in the back yard.  

A FOX.

Oh my gosh!!! 

Neat.

 

Expected

Herself speaks.

I knew it would happen eventually, and it finally did:

I had a moment when my first reaction to something was, I really want to tell my Dad about this. And I had to pause, and contemplate the fact that he is No More, and that I can't tell him about this. Or anything else. Ever again.

-----

This past Monday, I received word through the grapevine that one of my mentors from my very first job out of professional school had passed away.  We'll call him Edward ("Ed"). Ed was, in many respects, a man cut from the same cloth as my Dad:  extremely smart, thoughtful, and dedicated to his profession. He was an excellent mentor, a gentleman, kind and full of lessons large and small that he imparted in his quiet way. 

When I heard that Ed had died, my very first reaction was to want to tell my Dad. Dad would understand that this was a great loss of a brilliant expert in the professional community; more than that, though, Dad would understand that this was a loss of a meaningful guide in my fledgling career, someone who gave me my first chance to be a True Professional Adult. He'd know what Ed had meant to me.

I wouldn't have to explain.

-----

The Dad-shaped hole in the world that my siblings and I keep falling into, persists. If anything, it seems bigger over time. Or perhaps not bigger, so much as it has fingers that stretch into every corner of every day.  When it was new, we could see it right in front ourselves, and it was easier to navigate.  Now that we have lived with it for a little while, every now and then we momentarily forget, and then we trip over its edges and fall right in again. 

I miss Daddy asking, "How are you?"

No one really asks any more, now that Daddy is gone.  

Maybe I'll just write Daddy a little note sometimes. 

Daddy. I heard Ed had passed away. He's with you now, wherever you are.  Keep an eye out for him -- I can't remember whether you two ever met, but I know you would like each other. You can talk about science-y things together, you would both enjoy that. Tell him I say hello. 

Monologue

I was scrolling through the interwebs today, and I caught America Ferrera's monologue from the Barbie movie.  It's brilliant.  

And now I'm not sure I can watch the movie. Not right now.  Because right now, I am So. Very. Tired. It might just be Too Much. 

Still. This snippet is worth watching. Because this is how we feel. 

This is why we are so Tired. 

Mlem

Tongue

Flashback to Mr. Tio.

He was so homely. And such a very good boy.