I have always loved to sew. My Mother put a threaded needle into my little hands when I was only two, and I remember my Aunt "B" showing me how to tie a knot into the end of the thread for the first time. My stitches were long and crooked, but I was very proud of my first "seams". My only problem was the thread was too short, so when I got to the edge of the cloth piece I was "making" into a blanket the sewing line puckered up and gathered the material into a bit of a bunch. I was not pleased with the result - which says a lot when you remember how small I was.
When I was only four my Mother started to allow me to begin using the old Ford de Luxe sewing machine; a neat old electric model that had an external motor with a rubber belt on the flywheel. She would tell me to sew "along the lines" on the lined writing paper sheets from old school notebooks, no thread, an old needle, and nimble little fingers needing something to keep me out of trouble as she chased after my toddler baby brother and awaited the birth of my youngest sister!
Mom created the most amazing things with that machine in quick order; Hallowe'en costumes from what ever she had on hand, like burlap sacks for buckskin; coat-hanger wire to add "ribs" to a vampire cape; lace or other beautiful fabrics made over from adult sized dresses to pint sized ones for us; seams let out or taken in for a better fit. I learned mostly that you can do what you want with fabric and you are the best judge as to whether or not you reach your goal. I would sew clothes for friends, make costumes for parties, coats for the pets, Barbie dresses... whatever I decided was good. Then I discovered patchwork.
I realized very quickly that it was something I loved! I actually used high school Geometry lessons in the real world to create the angles and lines that would morph into something more like art than home economics. I made simple quilts at first for my first nieces and nephews; a puffy flannel cloud with stitched trapunto faces, little gingham triangles in soft colours, fun fabrics with ruffled borders. I planned beautiful scrap quilts and laid them on flannel sheets to roll up and save until I had a place to work with enough room, and wished for a little more time while the kids grew... I saved fabrics, planned on teaching classes, kept notes on patterns, colour pallets, even began hoarding lengths of cotton - now known to most quilters as a "stash" - and realized my delight in looking at the colour, feeling the weight of the quality cottons, testing the thicknesses on the flannels, and understanding that I am a "Fabric Addict", a "Textile Hoarder" or a "Quilt Whore"... and laughing about it. I volunteered to teach hand sewing to grade schoolers, helped preschoolers make patches for baby quilts when their teachers were taking leave to raise their own newborns, created many quilts to raise funds for class trips and class projects, learning to better my techniques and trust my instincts on colour and form.
And then I stopped. When my world fell apart and my life lost it's flavour I had no desire to create. The fabrics were whittled down and put away, stored for "later"...
So when a friend explained in the Fall of 2010 that they were looking for donations to raise funds for charity I offered to crawl out of my hole and make them a quilt. I worked for over a month, immersing myself in the colours of the fabric at the waning of Summer and the first few days of fall. I stacked reds, russets, oranges, yellows, greens... cream and deep indigo... and began to feel alive again. I completed the project as planned, sewing right up to the deadline, and it was offered on silent auction - my best work to date. I loved every little square, every stitch, every line and colour. And my friend told me to "make quilts" to bring me out of my darkness... "make quilts"...
I have revived my love of the creative process again. I have been asked on more than one occasion for commissioned work, but so far I have stuck to gifts and charity. At this moment, when I am again being dragged back into the mess and drama by a discontented "ex" I am taking time to keep my joy alive by creating something that will make a difference to another human being; matching "twin" squares for an international pair of quilts to raise awareness and help raise funds to combat ovarian cancer. After that I will concentrate on quilts for our "littlest" recipients... there are several new little "stars" in my Universe that I want to be able to fold up in a blanket of love... and thanks to friends I have rediscovered my "love" to be able to create.
So I'll be cutting and sewing for a day or two... and in the meantime I'd like a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go... just don't spill it on the quilt!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Learning the hard way....
My lawn is cut, Hallowe'en is over and I have taken all the candy and given it away - some to friends, some to family, and the remaining sack full went to the Foodbank this afternoon during my round of errands. I have new leashes for my dogs, a new jerry can for the lawnmower, and a new direction for myself.
Go ahead.... laugh.... I moved back into the upstairs.
This time I moved most of it on my own, one box or bag or bin at a time, up and down the stairs every day, over two weeks, until my back refused to lift or my knees refused to climb. With a little help from my son "J", his buddy "C" and my nephew "P" I got all the important stuff into place; the waterbed (ah... scooshy bed is back...), the couches, cupboards, freezer, dining table, filing cabinet and heavy carved dresser; everything else I either rolled up, muscled up or dragged up. I am sore, sweaty, my hands ache, I have bruises in stripes on my arms and shoulders, my knees are complaining, and I'm happy - almost elated really - and down about 10 lbs.! It took two weeks, and I still have to clean up the carpets and floors in the suite, but the pets have resettled nicely, and I have the rooms organized to my personal satisfaction!
I now have a studio! The fabrics for my quilts have shelves to be displayed on and windowed cupboard doors to keep the cat off! I have open shelf units for my boxes of thread, a wall to hang my flannel workboard all the time, a window for light, and the photos of my most loved children, nieces and nephews to look at whenever my mind wanders from task. There is a spot for works in progress, niches for upcoming projects, and closed storage bins for my seasonal crafts - notably the Ukrainian Pysanky I love to create in the spring every year. There is even a special place for the last remaining instruments I decided to keep and play, with their portfolios of music beside them, and my vocalize and Arie Antiche for those moments when I feel joyful and want to sing.
The computer is put away in it's own office where it will not be a constant distraction! The files and budget papers, lists of assets and expenses, legal documentation, orders, consents, in short the "paper monster" has finally been tamed and caged. I spend a little time writing or catching up, checking email, playing "poke" on facebook with friends, and then I walk out and close the door. No longer my only companion. I spend my best time now taking care of my home and garden, pulling a few weeds, making sure the trash is sorted and gone, running my little robot vacuum and smiling.
The kitchen has come back to life; butter chicken fragrant with fresh chopped cilantro; slow cooked oatmeal thickened with ground flax meal; scallop and bacon chowder with saffron in the broth; grilled cheese sandwiches loaded with warmed, shaved honey ham; there is shortbread dough in the freezer, candied fruit marinating in brandy; a whole shelf with my wonderful wine collection; there was even a party on Hallowe'en where little kids ate hot dogs with me and watched "Hocus Pocus"... in short, I have my life back.
I never realized that I was the one who just handed bits of my life to anyone who asked. Those who did take it didn't value it. It wasn't theirs to take, nor was I obliged to give it to them. I find I have become a little more cynical, no longer trusting blindly as I realize now the only person who I should ever truly trust is myself. I have been screwed over more than once in the last couple of years, taken advantage of, learned to see other people in a more realistic way, and I have to say I am no longer QUITE the naive person I was at the beginning of the journey, but I still need the advice of good friends to keep me from screwing myself up again!
So now it's time to live with fulfillment, enjoy each task and complete each task in order, take on new projects, achieve in new ways, and remember to let Karma take care of the rest; I don't need to get even. Because living well really IS the best revenge... and I'll have a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go... please...
Go ahead.... laugh.... I moved back into the upstairs.
This time I moved most of it on my own, one box or bag or bin at a time, up and down the stairs every day, over two weeks, until my back refused to lift or my knees refused to climb. With a little help from my son "J", his buddy "C" and my nephew "P" I got all the important stuff into place; the waterbed (ah... scooshy bed is back...), the couches, cupboards, freezer, dining table, filing cabinet and heavy carved dresser; everything else I either rolled up, muscled up or dragged up. I am sore, sweaty, my hands ache, I have bruises in stripes on my arms and shoulders, my knees are complaining, and I'm happy - almost elated really - and down about 10 lbs.! It took two weeks, and I still have to clean up the carpets and floors in the suite, but the pets have resettled nicely, and I have the rooms organized to my personal satisfaction!
I now have a studio! The fabrics for my quilts have shelves to be displayed on and windowed cupboard doors to keep the cat off! I have open shelf units for my boxes of thread, a wall to hang my flannel workboard all the time, a window for light, and the photos of my most loved children, nieces and nephews to look at whenever my mind wanders from task. There is a spot for works in progress, niches for upcoming projects, and closed storage bins for my seasonal crafts - notably the Ukrainian Pysanky I love to create in the spring every year. There is even a special place for the last remaining instruments I decided to keep and play, with their portfolios of music beside them, and my vocalize and Arie Antiche for those moments when I feel joyful and want to sing.
The computer is put away in it's own office where it will not be a constant distraction! The files and budget papers, lists of assets and expenses, legal documentation, orders, consents, in short the "paper monster" has finally been tamed and caged. I spend a little time writing or catching up, checking email, playing "poke" on facebook with friends, and then I walk out and close the door. No longer my only companion. I spend my best time now taking care of my home and garden, pulling a few weeds, making sure the trash is sorted and gone, running my little robot vacuum and smiling.
The kitchen has come back to life; butter chicken fragrant with fresh chopped cilantro; slow cooked oatmeal thickened with ground flax meal; scallop and bacon chowder with saffron in the broth; grilled cheese sandwiches loaded with warmed, shaved honey ham; there is shortbread dough in the freezer, candied fruit marinating in brandy; a whole shelf with my wonderful wine collection; there was even a party on Hallowe'en where little kids ate hot dogs with me and watched "Hocus Pocus"... in short, I have my life back.
I never realized that I was the one who just handed bits of my life to anyone who asked. Those who did take it didn't value it. It wasn't theirs to take, nor was I obliged to give it to them. I find I have become a little more cynical, no longer trusting blindly as I realize now the only person who I should ever truly trust is myself. I have been screwed over more than once in the last couple of years, taken advantage of, learned to see other people in a more realistic way, and I have to say I am no longer QUITE the naive person I was at the beginning of the journey, but I still need the advice of good friends to keep me from screwing myself up again!
So now it's time to live with fulfillment, enjoy each task and complete each task in order, take on new projects, achieve in new ways, and remember to let Karma take care of the rest; I don't need to get even. Because living well really IS the best revenge... and I'll have a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go... please...
Friday, September 2, 2011
Walking with ghosts...
I recently called my younger brother "R" and we discussed a number of things that were on my mind. He suggested I "go back in time" so to speak, and walk through some of the places and memories from before my relationship with the "ex". It seemed like a simple enough idea, although having been with said "ex" from the age of 15 there were not a lot of places or people untouched by his presence or interaction. So on a marginally sunny day I booked a dogsitter for the hellraisers and filled my gastank. It is the first day of September, and the PNE is open!
Ah, the PNE... a place that holds so many memories that some of them were only about me and those I love. I recalled watching my brothers skate at the forum, in awe while my oldest brother drove the Zamboni. Falling on the ice or running into the boards HARD! Hot chocolate at the concession on a cold day. The Marketplace, where just about any type of TV or Online hyped up merchandise can be had for much more than a song... where Aunt Margie's Fudge sits close to the (newly discovered) roasted almond booth - and the espresso glazed warm toasted almonds were worth the price... I almost felt saintly buying toasted nuts instead of "those little donuts"... Food, food, food! Hunky Bills, Curry in a Hurry, gelato, pizza, pasta, fried chicken, burgers, hot dogs, Jamaican and Japanese and Whale Tails.... deep fried Mars Bars... and an entire row of rib kitchens having a "cook off" to see who would come up in front on the "best ribs at the fair"... Roving performers that knocked my socks off - a group of 8 very young drummers playing marching band rhythms interwoven with pop culture lines... and dancing while they pounded until the drum sticks shattered in their hands... and Dal Richards' Orchestra playing sweet mellow tunes my parents danced to in a misty Vancouver afternoon.
I got a tarot card reader to throw the cards for me... nothing new there, just the usual; the Tower (another cluster fuck), 8 of wands (carrying a load of emotional baggage with the end just out of sight), Judgement (exactly) 7 of swords (mourning), with the Empress for new life, the Emperor for strong leadership... and I've turned those cards over and over myself, but it was good to have another opinion... after all, it's about the interpretation more than anything. Had Frontier Photo shoot my portrait - I think this is the 5th one for me! Photographed a few places that once meant something; the spot the "ex" actually proposed, the bandstand, a huge pile of shipping containers stacked alternately with cars... and it reminded me of my brother and his lego with the Hot Wheels,
I watched the Superdogs in the Coliseum, bypassed the prize home, crawled through all the barns to smell the clean hay and watch tiny chickens hatch. I walked into the Hastings Park Racetrack for the first time on my own and realized that I had been there almost 50 years before... standing at the side, watching the horses being walked from their stalls to show to the crowd before their warm up... only now I was tall enough to see over the fence where before I barely came halfway up! I felt insecure and alone the entire time. I started going through the art displays and discovered an homage to the dockworkers of the Port of Vancouver... and my heart came up into my throat and I felt an overwhelming wave of grief come over me. There, hanging on a hook near the back was a coverall just like the ones Dad used to wear, and there was a tattered little chair set beside an empty cable spool, used as a table... I could almost smell the grimy oil, the welding solder, the burnt cotton smell from the pinholes that pocked his clothes... and I missed him with all my heart in that instant. It made me realize that I have been travelling with the ghosts of my past all around me. My Dad, my Mom, my past relationship, friends and loved ones who have moved on or passed on... but my memories are just that.
Having felt for a long time that my Mom is with me always is a comfort, but there are times when I wish I could turn to look over my shoulder and see her there. It's an urge that is unsatisfied, an ache that has no comfort, and I wonder how other people deal with it. She would have loved the music, the joy, the enthusiasm and the life in those young performers. And the Dad I remembered was the one who held my little hand, dapper in his nice shirt with his hair all brushed neatly as he stood with me to watch the thoroughbreds walk past. The Dad who always won a prize at the sledgehammer game... because he was Superman to me.
Just before I left, just for old time's sake, I bought tickets to "win a house, win a car..." and filled out my name and phone number. I may as well have dumped them into the trash, as I have never, and will never, win anything from the Fair. But I have some new memories to link up to the old ones I had hiding in some old drawers in the far cupboard with the pig races and the pigeons. Maybe that is the "reset" my internal clock needed. Something to bridge me from the past to the future without having to carry all the heavy, painful stuff all the time to get there. And I'm sad, and a little melancholy. But I'm also feeling a little hope. And I believe that living in a world without hope is the saddest thing of all.
So it's time for me and my ghosts to go our own ways. They have a lot of travelling to do to catch up to where they should be, and I have a lot of uncovered ground to bring me to where I need to be. I will just have to do it without their company and make some new models of the best way to make my life the way a life can be lived. I need a cunning plan... and in the meantime I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please...
Ah, the PNE... a place that holds so many memories that some of them were only about me and those I love. I recalled watching my brothers skate at the forum, in awe while my oldest brother drove the Zamboni. Falling on the ice or running into the boards HARD! Hot chocolate at the concession on a cold day. The Marketplace, where just about any type of TV or Online hyped up merchandise can be had for much more than a song... where Aunt Margie's Fudge sits close to the (newly discovered) roasted almond booth - and the espresso glazed warm toasted almonds were worth the price... I almost felt saintly buying toasted nuts instead of "those little donuts"... Food, food, food! Hunky Bills, Curry in a Hurry, gelato, pizza, pasta, fried chicken, burgers, hot dogs, Jamaican and Japanese and Whale Tails.... deep fried Mars Bars... and an entire row of rib kitchens having a "cook off" to see who would come up in front on the "best ribs at the fair"... Roving performers that knocked my socks off - a group of 8 very young drummers playing marching band rhythms interwoven with pop culture lines... and dancing while they pounded until the drum sticks shattered in their hands... and Dal Richards' Orchestra playing sweet mellow tunes my parents danced to in a misty Vancouver afternoon.
I got a tarot card reader to throw the cards for me... nothing new there, just the usual; the Tower (another cluster fuck), 8 of wands (carrying a load of emotional baggage with the end just out of sight), Judgement (exactly) 7 of swords (mourning), with the Empress for new life, the Emperor for strong leadership... and I've turned those cards over and over myself, but it was good to have another opinion... after all, it's about the interpretation more than anything. Had Frontier Photo shoot my portrait - I think this is the 5th one for me! Photographed a few places that once meant something; the spot the "ex" actually proposed, the bandstand, a huge pile of shipping containers stacked alternately with cars... and it reminded me of my brother and his lego with the Hot Wheels,
I watched the Superdogs in the Coliseum, bypassed the prize home, crawled through all the barns to smell the clean hay and watch tiny chickens hatch. I walked into the Hastings Park Racetrack for the first time on my own and realized that I had been there almost 50 years before... standing at the side, watching the horses being walked from their stalls to show to the crowd before their warm up... only now I was tall enough to see over the fence where before I barely came halfway up! I felt insecure and alone the entire time. I started going through the art displays and discovered an homage to the dockworkers of the Port of Vancouver... and my heart came up into my throat and I felt an overwhelming wave of grief come over me. There, hanging on a hook near the back was a coverall just like the ones Dad used to wear, and there was a tattered little chair set beside an empty cable spool, used as a table... I could almost smell the grimy oil, the welding solder, the burnt cotton smell from the pinholes that pocked his clothes... and I missed him with all my heart in that instant. It made me realize that I have been travelling with the ghosts of my past all around me. My Dad, my Mom, my past relationship, friends and loved ones who have moved on or passed on... but my memories are just that.
Having felt for a long time that my Mom is with me always is a comfort, but there are times when I wish I could turn to look over my shoulder and see her there. It's an urge that is unsatisfied, an ache that has no comfort, and I wonder how other people deal with it. She would have loved the music, the joy, the enthusiasm and the life in those young performers. And the Dad I remembered was the one who held my little hand, dapper in his nice shirt with his hair all brushed neatly as he stood with me to watch the thoroughbreds walk past. The Dad who always won a prize at the sledgehammer game... because he was Superman to me.
Just before I left, just for old time's sake, I bought tickets to "win a house, win a car..." and filled out my name and phone number. I may as well have dumped them into the trash, as I have never, and will never, win anything from the Fair. But I have some new memories to link up to the old ones I had hiding in some old drawers in the far cupboard with the pig races and the pigeons. Maybe that is the "reset" my internal clock needed. Something to bridge me from the past to the future without having to carry all the heavy, painful stuff all the time to get there. And I'm sad, and a little melancholy. But I'm also feeling a little hope. And I believe that living in a world without hope is the saddest thing of all.
So it's time for me and my ghosts to go our own ways. They have a lot of travelling to do to catch up to where they should be, and I have a lot of uncovered ground to bring me to where I need to be. I will just have to do it without their company and make some new models of the best way to make my life the way a life can be lived. I need a cunning plan... and in the meantime I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please...
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Crawling out of the hole...
There are lots of signs of depression and anxiety. You cycle up and risk things you shouldn't - spending too much, eating too much, lottery tickets, bad choices, drinking, stressing over things you don't need to. But you never realize you've fallen down the hole until you are looking up from the bottom.
For me, the constant sleeping is my biggest and most telling sign. I love to sleep; when I sleep I am as brave and strong and smart as I wish I could be. I can travel, work, drive, go out, interact, and even gamble risk free. I can face down my problems and keep them from overwhelming me. The dreams lull me into such a false sense of reality that sometimes I'm briefly unsure whether the conversation I had in my dream was real or not. But while I am sleeping the real world and all the daily things I leave while I'm living in my dreams build up almost to flood proportions, and I find myself stuck in a swamp when I wake because the dams are overflowing.
The most common tell tale sign for me is the half finished projects. Staying focused and keeping to a goal has always been difficult for me. Sometimes, guilt and shame keep me from moving forward when I feel I have failed. But the person I fail the most when that happens is myself. It has taken me a long time to realize that I am the only person to measure my performance against. I am the only person I have been making promises to, and when I don't follow through I am the ultimate loser. And when all those half finished goals sit gathering dust I am trapped in my own chaos again. The view from down in the hole is pretty limited, and climbing out is aggravating.
Kicking myself in the ass and reminding myself is getting to be a more frequent occurrence. "You promised yourself you would do this... so do it! It's not for someone else! It's for yourself"! And I drag myself out of where ever I have holed up, gather the bits and pieces and get things done. One step at a time, one nut or bolt, one hole drilled, one bag of garbage out in the bin, one more picture hung on the wall... One more thing to make my nest my own. Yes, my own. For the first time my space isn't in someone else's place, my clothes didn't belong to someone else because I purchased them with my own money for myself, my things are mine and mine alone. My time is mine, my skills are mine, my choices are made by me and hopefully for me! Perhaps that has been what I was missing in all the equations... the realization that it really is mine! For good or bad, I am the only one who can choose, and when I let other people push me out because I am afraid, they will take what is mine, use what is mine, use up what is mine... and I don't want that to happen any more.
So now I get to stake a claim on "MINE"... it isn't silver or gold, coal or uranium... potash or diamonds... but I will keep "MINE" and use "MINE" and enjoy "MINE" and do what I need to take care of "MINE"... No more squatters in my brain, time to show myself more healthy boundaries.
Oh, and I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please...
For me, the constant sleeping is my biggest and most telling sign. I love to sleep; when I sleep I am as brave and strong and smart as I wish I could be. I can travel, work, drive, go out, interact, and even gamble risk free. I can face down my problems and keep them from overwhelming me. The dreams lull me into such a false sense of reality that sometimes I'm briefly unsure whether the conversation I had in my dream was real or not. But while I am sleeping the real world and all the daily things I leave while I'm living in my dreams build up almost to flood proportions, and I find myself stuck in a swamp when I wake because the dams are overflowing.
The most common tell tale sign for me is the half finished projects. Staying focused and keeping to a goal has always been difficult for me. Sometimes, guilt and shame keep me from moving forward when I feel I have failed. But the person I fail the most when that happens is myself. It has taken me a long time to realize that I am the only person to measure my performance against. I am the only person I have been making promises to, and when I don't follow through I am the ultimate loser. And when all those half finished goals sit gathering dust I am trapped in my own chaos again. The view from down in the hole is pretty limited, and climbing out is aggravating.
Kicking myself in the ass and reminding myself is getting to be a more frequent occurrence. "You promised yourself you would do this... so do it! It's not for someone else! It's for yourself"! And I drag myself out of where ever I have holed up, gather the bits and pieces and get things done. One step at a time, one nut or bolt, one hole drilled, one bag of garbage out in the bin, one more picture hung on the wall... One more thing to make my nest my own. Yes, my own. For the first time my space isn't in someone else's place, my clothes didn't belong to someone else because I purchased them with my own money for myself, my things are mine and mine alone. My time is mine, my skills are mine, my choices are made by me and hopefully for me! Perhaps that has been what I was missing in all the equations... the realization that it really is mine! For good or bad, I am the only one who can choose, and when I let other people push me out because I am afraid, they will take what is mine, use what is mine, use up what is mine... and I don't want that to happen any more.
So now I get to stake a claim on "MINE"... it isn't silver or gold, coal or uranium... potash or diamonds... but I will keep "MINE" and use "MINE" and enjoy "MINE" and do what I need to take care of "MINE"... No more squatters in my brain, time to show myself more healthy boundaries.
Oh, and I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please...
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Little dogs and fever dreams....
I have tonsillitis. I'm 53 and laid up with a childhood ailment that used to have the Dr. making a housecall to prescribe some bad tasting medicine and have me on a "chicken soup and gruel" diet as a little kid. I think the toxic headache is the worst part. Oddly enough, my throat isn't that sore, but my pathetic tonsils are twice their normal size, pitted with nasty spots, and there is nasty stuff oozing somewhere in the back! UGH! I wonder how long I've been cooking this tasty bug, and how much it has affected me over the last couple of weeks. I'm stuffed full of Penicillin, loaded with Ibuprophen. The aftertaste of the medicine has me remembering why some parents give their kids chocolate; to remove that taste from your mouth! I have lost my appetite and sleep probably three hours out of every 6 in the day... on the "plus" side, I've lost 5 lbs.... on the "minus" side, the house is a disaster zone. I still have to drag my sorry butt into work, but I only have short shifts so I have been managing. I have actually brought home Popsicles, ice cream and juice. I actually miss gruel....
The fever dreams are the worst; mostly confronting all those people who I have felt wouldn't listen to me over the last couple of years. When they say they are my friend, tell me in a conversational way that they will pick me up from work if I need them, take me out for a coffee, see me another time I look them straight in the eye in my dreams and tell them firmly that "we are not and will never be friends". But I have noticed that when I speak with them in my fever dreams I'm no longer screaming. All the anger seems to be fading at last, and that is a comfort.
There is one constant in all of this, though. Every time I lay my head down there is a small, furry dog nudging my hand and comforting me. Every time I wake there are little button eyes looking at me, and a small doggy voice questions me so softly.... "arf"... The dogs stay close all the time. Penny lays at my feet wherever I am - laying in bed, working at finding something simple to eat in the kitchen, sitting at my computer desk. She sleeps quietly at the foot of my bed at night, coming for a hug and a tummy rub whenever I pat the spot beside me to call her. Daisy lays in the middle of the bed, tight to my side. When I lay with one arm tucked under my head facing the wall she is there at my back. And Folly stays where he can see me, with his head on my shoulder, sighing in his sleep when he closes his eyes. I realize that at this very moment of my life they are my greatest comfort. Although I miss the companionship and conversation that comes with a good relationship I would not give them up for someone else. We are a package deal. I realize that the likelihood of me finding someone who will put up with my quirks as well as my three little ragamuffins (and my three cats) is slim to none, but at this point it isn't such a big deal. I am coming to terms with the thought of living alone. I know with the dogs I will never really be lonely. I just need a little more balance in my day to day life.
I'm looking forward to finally seeing some summer... although I have to say all the rain we have had this year seems like another fever dream. I want to pull weeds, pick fruit, open the windows and have the warm wind blow out all the funk. I want to open my heart and let the warm wind blow out all the dust that I've gathered. And I remember the words of the Dalai Lama... "when your life turns to dust, vacuum..."
So it's time to take another orange pill, another yellow pill, another blue pill, another white pill... climb into bed and sleep until it's time to take another pill.... to recover slowly and beat this stinking, festering, rotten bug into submission. Needless to say, once I have recovered enough I will be cleaning the whole place with a little bit of "javex" on every surface.... stupid tonsils... I hate you....
In the meantime I would like a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please.... with a side of chocolate...
The fever dreams are the worst; mostly confronting all those people who I have felt wouldn't listen to me over the last couple of years. When they say they are my friend, tell me in a conversational way that they will pick me up from work if I need them, take me out for a coffee, see me another time I look them straight in the eye in my dreams and tell them firmly that "we are not and will never be friends". But I have noticed that when I speak with them in my fever dreams I'm no longer screaming. All the anger seems to be fading at last, and that is a comfort.
There is one constant in all of this, though. Every time I lay my head down there is a small, furry dog nudging my hand and comforting me. Every time I wake there are little button eyes looking at me, and a small doggy voice questions me so softly.... "arf"... The dogs stay close all the time. Penny lays at my feet wherever I am - laying in bed, working at finding something simple to eat in the kitchen, sitting at my computer desk. She sleeps quietly at the foot of my bed at night, coming for a hug and a tummy rub whenever I pat the spot beside me to call her. Daisy lays in the middle of the bed, tight to my side. When I lay with one arm tucked under my head facing the wall she is there at my back. And Folly stays where he can see me, with his head on my shoulder, sighing in his sleep when he closes his eyes. I realize that at this very moment of my life they are my greatest comfort. Although I miss the companionship and conversation that comes with a good relationship I would not give them up for someone else. We are a package deal. I realize that the likelihood of me finding someone who will put up with my quirks as well as my three little ragamuffins (and my three cats) is slim to none, but at this point it isn't such a big deal. I am coming to terms with the thought of living alone. I know with the dogs I will never really be lonely. I just need a little more balance in my day to day life.
I'm looking forward to finally seeing some summer... although I have to say all the rain we have had this year seems like another fever dream. I want to pull weeds, pick fruit, open the windows and have the warm wind blow out all the funk. I want to open my heart and let the warm wind blow out all the dust that I've gathered. And I remember the words of the Dalai Lama... "when your life turns to dust, vacuum..."
So it's time to take another orange pill, another yellow pill, another blue pill, another white pill... climb into bed and sleep until it's time to take another pill.... to recover slowly and beat this stinking, festering, rotten bug into submission. Needless to say, once I have recovered enough I will be cleaning the whole place with a little bit of "javex" on every surface.... stupid tonsils... I hate you....
In the meantime I would like a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please.... with a side of chocolate...
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Running through the mine field...
My therapist - who actually gets a chuckle out of the fact that I mention him occasionally - recently talked over my latest "funk" with me. My personal drive has been on "stall" for a while and I was concerned that perhaps my medication needed fine tuning. He gave me a really good analogy for what has been going on.... "for the last two years you have been running through a mine field, and now there are no more mines and you don't have another focus. This is the time in your life when you just have to be selfish, and only think about this moment and what comes after it. When you think about what has happened before and focus on those other people who have betrayed you, you feel stuck in that moment and you can't move forward..." Stuck in that moment...
I had a vision in my head of the coyote, running madly down the road until the road curved ahead and he was left running over thin air until he literally hit the wall and fell down the hole. I can't remember how many times I have felt just like that; feet peddling over empty air until I hit a hard stop and gravity brought me all the way down again. Living that way is very selfish and self serving. There is no room for another person when your life is a constant race through the mines. Not a partner, not friends, not family, especially not children! Unfortunately, the world of the internet with the "social pages", "internet chat rooms", "email", "IMs" etc. does nothing to foster real time human contact and as far as I can tell it only prolongs the run through the minefield.
Some people are surrounded with those emotional mines. Trying to get close, to find out their true and authentic selves, leaves you stepping gingerly and expecting to hit an explosion at the least pressure. You walk a limited and precarious path. You live with tunnel vision, trying unsuccessfully to navigate through the pitted landscape of your relationship with them. You see a flawed vision of yourself reflected back from them, and you truly do become "stuck". It was only when I made a difficult and very conscious decision to finally "let it go" that I was able to move at all! Suddenly, without any fanfare, without any real change in the world, without asking any permission or expecting any acceptance, the mines were gone. Just... gone.... and it makes me wonder "who's mines were they: mine or theirs'"? I can only own my own mistakes, and I know a lot of them were ones I planted and armed. But not all of them. When I look back at those people and see from a distance how their worlds continue I see other people stuck in the minefields, surrounded by hidden bombs and stepping gingerly. So I know not all of them were mine to own and that is okay.
And now I have to look at "what would I equate as being selfish?"... The answer was really quite simple. My "self" has to come first. It isn't about stuff or luxuries or outer trappings... it is just taking care of myself before I did anything else, and I realized I have not put myself first in a real and concrete way for a very long time. As simple as showering because it eases my muscles, cleaning my teeth as many times as I feel like, giving myself more than a casual thought about clean sheets, clean floors, clean dishes... having the moxy to get off the computer and react with the outside world. Taking vitamins, using the medications I have for my skin condition, keeping the promises I make to myself and for myself. And really, if I can't keep promises to myself how on earth will I be able to keep them to the people I care about? If I don't take care of myself in a healthy way, how in the world will I be able to take care of someone or something else when I need to?
It's really easy to give lip service to making yourself better without actually making the real changes. Was that comment you made just a "wishful thought" of what you want the world to think you are doing? The internet lets you hide, you can tell the world what you're doing, but are you really doing it? Does your "mouth write cheques that your ass can't cash"? In my opinion, those are the weakest and most self serving promises... I promise to be better without changing... I promise to make a difference without the act that makes things different.... I will promise and give lip service to being a better person, and then I will forget that I ever made that promise... and the only person you betray is yourself. It takes real strength and real courage to follow through on those promises, to make those changes. And the only validation you get at the end of the day is the change in your soul. THAT is the only change that really matters.
So I'm going to take my killer headache to bed. I have a busy week coming up, and I fully intend to spend it very, very selfishly. In the meantime, I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please.....
I had a vision in my head of the coyote, running madly down the road until the road curved ahead and he was left running over thin air until he literally hit the wall and fell down the hole. I can't remember how many times I have felt just like that; feet peddling over empty air until I hit a hard stop and gravity brought me all the way down again. Living that way is very selfish and self serving. There is no room for another person when your life is a constant race through the mines. Not a partner, not friends, not family, especially not children! Unfortunately, the world of the internet with the "social pages", "internet chat rooms", "email", "IMs" etc. does nothing to foster real time human contact and as far as I can tell it only prolongs the run through the minefield.
Some people are surrounded with those emotional mines. Trying to get close, to find out their true and authentic selves, leaves you stepping gingerly and expecting to hit an explosion at the least pressure. You walk a limited and precarious path. You live with tunnel vision, trying unsuccessfully to navigate through the pitted landscape of your relationship with them. You see a flawed vision of yourself reflected back from them, and you truly do become "stuck". It was only when I made a difficult and very conscious decision to finally "let it go" that I was able to move at all! Suddenly, without any fanfare, without any real change in the world, without asking any permission or expecting any acceptance, the mines were gone. Just... gone.... and it makes me wonder "who's mines were they: mine or theirs'"? I can only own my own mistakes, and I know a lot of them were ones I planted and armed. But not all of them. When I look back at those people and see from a distance how their worlds continue I see other people stuck in the minefields, surrounded by hidden bombs and stepping gingerly. So I know not all of them were mine to own and that is okay.
And now I have to look at "what would I equate as being selfish?"... The answer was really quite simple. My "self" has to come first. It isn't about stuff or luxuries or outer trappings... it is just taking care of myself before I did anything else, and I realized I have not put myself first in a real and concrete way for a very long time. As simple as showering because it eases my muscles, cleaning my teeth as many times as I feel like, giving myself more than a casual thought about clean sheets, clean floors, clean dishes... having the moxy to get off the computer and react with the outside world. Taking vitamins, using the medications I have for my skin condition, keeping the promises I make to myself and for myself. And really, if I can't keep promises to myself how on earth will I be able to keep them to the people I care about? If I don't take care of myself in a healthy way, how in the world will I be able to take care of someone or something else when I need to?
It's really easy to give lip service to making yourself better without actually making the real changes. Was that comment you made just a "wishful thought" of what you want the world to think you are doing? The internet lets you hide, you can tell the world what you're doing, but are you really doing it? Does your "mouth write cheques that your ass can't cash"? In my opinion, those are the weakest and most self serving promises... I promise to be better without changing... I promise to make a difference without the act that makes things different.... I will promise and give lip service to being a better person, and then I will forget that I ever made that promise... and the only person you betray is yourself. It takes real strength and real courage to follow through on those promises, to make those changes. And the only validation you get at the end of the day is the change in your soul. THAT is the only change that really matters.
So I'm going to take my killer headache to bed. I have a busy week coming up, and I fully intend to spend it very, very selfishly. In the meantime, I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please.....
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The twilight zone....
I have always scoffed a little at people who weren't able to deal with the Vancouver weather. I used to say "I have my Vancouver Hairstyle... looks the same wet or dry"... One of my biggest - and perhaps most arrogant - jokes has always been... "how do you tell a tourist in Vancouver? They're the one using the umbrella".... well, it seems these days the joke is on me!
The constant and almost unrelieved cloud cover day after day is depressing, and living in the basement of my home without much in the way of daylight has become a problem. It seems to me that the best weather days have been when I am inside at work looking outside at the mountains. Although I firmly believe that my "office" has the best view in the lower mainland, I would still prefer to be outside rather than shut in! I even went so far as to plan a hike last week on my day off, only to have my stroll in the woods marked with drizzle - lovely drizzle, but still turns my "Vancouver Hairstyle" into a giant, frizzy dandelion puff.... so much for the "looks the same wet or dry..." And my aging and out of shape muscles are not coping well with the unseasonal cool temperatures, making me feel stiff and sore even BEFORE my hike or my stroll to the Starbarks with the pack. Thank goodness I finally had my fireplace installed so I can turn on "summer" in my living room and warm my muscles until they don't feel that ache any more.
I used to have nightmares about this kind of weather... still do, in fact. Usually they are of the "end of the world Apocalypse" variety, where I am unable to see distant objects or landmarks because of unrelenting fog or thick, grey cloud cover. That constant twilight, where my personal anxiety overrides common sense. Sometimes I would dream I had abandoned my children, or was unable to find them. Sometimes I would dream I was suddenly and inexplicably alone in the world, having to fend for myself using only bare resources and traveling long distances. The most prevailing feeling in those dreams was always hopelessness; inability or ineffectuality when attempting to change something. There are moments when those very private and deep feelings begin, just briefly, to affect my mood to the point that I feel them even when waking. Yes, there are times when I feel that I have abandoned and so lost my children. Yes, I find myself alone in the world and having to fend for myself. There are times when I feel hopeless, ineffectual, unable to make changes, even unable to plan ahead for myself.
I have basically forgotten what it's like to have focus and to prioritize. Nobody to blame but me! That is the moment when sanity returns - sometimes only briefly - and I remember the good advice of my dear friend "S".... "SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP"! Because NO ONE CAN MAKE YOU FEEL INFERIOR WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION! When you give all your power away and wallow in self pity you do NOTHING to help yourself, and no one is going to do it for you. So it's time to reforge that Titanium spine I worked so hard to make into a masterpiece, time to put on the steel gauntlets inside my velvet gloves, time to pull my resources and my spirit and my pride and my drive back together and plaster that smile I use as my shield and my armour on my face and keep going! Time to start... one thing at a time! No distractions, no excuses, and most especially NO WALLOWING IN SELF PITY!.... Good grief! You'd think things were tough???? Right now in my life I'm probably in the best place I have ever been, and I'm using old behaviours in a new situation and making things worse!
So now I begin the new mantra; My life is not about my past; My life is not yet about my future; my life in the present is all I have right now and there is NO ONE who has the right to screw it up - including me - unless I LET THEM!.... So I have decided that keeping a warm and well lit place in the "twilight zone" that the lower mainland has become will be my first priority. A warm fire, a warm cup of tea, making each item I own either find a permanent place or removing it before it begins to own me! Because like it or not I'm going to have to make good on all the things I have made promises about... and my first promise has been to myself and how I WILL make my life a better one than I have ever had.
Oh, and if the rain continues I guess I'll be swimming in a cooler pool than I would like, but it's still my freaking pool! In the meantime, I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please....
The constant and almost unrelieved cloud cover day after day is depressing, and living in the basement of my home without much in the way of daylight has become a problem. It seems to me that the best weather days have been when I am inside at work looking outside at the mountains. Although I firmly believe that my "office" has the best view in the lower mainland, I would still prefer to be outside rather than shut in! I even went so far as to plan a hike last week on my day off, only to have my stroll in the woods marked with drizzle - lovely drizzle, but still turns my "Vancouver Hairstyle" into a giant, frizzy dandelion puff.... so much for the "looks the same wet or dry..." And my aging and out of shape muscles are not coping well with the unseasonal cool temperatures, making me feel stiff and sore even BEFORE my hike or my stroll to the Starbarks with the pack. Thank goodness I finally had my fireplace installed so I can turn on "summer" in my living room and warm my muscles until they don't feel that ache any more.
I used to have nightmares about this kind of weather... still do, in fact. Usually they are of the "end of the world Apocalypse" variety, where I am unable to see distant objects or landmarks because of unrelenting fog or thick, grey cloud cover. That constant twilight, where my personal anxiety overrides common sense. Sometimes I would dream I had abandoned my children, or was unable to find them. Sometimes I would dream I was suddenly and inexplicably alone in the world, having to fend for myself using only bare resources and traveling long distances. The most prevailing feeling in those dreams was always hopelessness; inability or ineffectuality when attempting to change something. There are moments when those very private and deep feelings begin, just briefly, to affect my mood to the point that I feel them even when waking. Yes, there are times when I feel that I have abandoned and so lost my children. Yes, I find myself alone in the world and having to fend for myself. There are times when I feel hopeless, ineffectual, unable to make changes, even unable to plan ahead for myself.
I have basically forgotten what it's like to have focus and to prioritize. Nobody to blame but me! That is the moment when sanity returns - sometimes only briefly - and I remember the good advice of my dear friend "S".... "SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP"! Because NO ONE CAN MAKE YOU FEEL INFERIOR WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION! When you give all your power away and wallow in self pity you do NOTHING to help yourself, and no one is going to do it for you. So it's time to reforge that Titanium spine I worked so hard to make into a masterpiece, time to put on the steel gauntlets inside my velvet gloves, time to pull my resources and my spirit and my pride and my drive back together and plaster that smile I use as my shield and my armour on my face and keep going! Time to start... one thing at a time! No distractions, no excuses, and most especially NO WALLOWING IN SELF PITY!.... Good grief! You'd think things were tough???? Right now in my life I'm probably in the best place I have ever been, and I'm using old behaviours in a new situation and making things worse!
So now I begin the new mantra; My life is not about my past; My life is not yet about my future; my life in the present is all I have right now and there is NO ONE who has the right to screw it up - including me - unless I LET THEM!.... So I have decided that keeping a warm and well lit place in the "twilight zone" that the lower mainland has become will be my first priority. A warm fire, a warm cup of tea, making each item I own either find a permanent place or removing it before it begins to own me! Because like it or not I'm going to have to make good on all the things I have made promises about... and my first promise has been to myself and how I WILL make my life a better one than I have ever had.
Oh, and if the rain continues I guess I'll be swimming in a cooler pool than I would like, but it's still my freaking pool! In the meantime, I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please....
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