Wasted thoughts

As February approaches my thoughts are much of Joey, and this morning as I began to go down my list of what ifs and could haves I stopped and asked myself the hard question. Would I really wish him back? What exactly am I grieving? The sound of his voice and his rare laughter, his crew cut soft against my hand and the smoke pouring out of the kitchen as he bangs around in there cooking like he does everything else - too fast and impatient to be done once he finally starts. Can it be that the part of me that is relieved that he is not here struggling with the horrendously hard life of an addict has somehow crept across the dividing line and is now bigger than the part of me that wishes he were here making me crazy. The part of me that tries to believe that were he here he would succeed in his struggle to find a niche in his life where he could be himself, that he would find a place where the demons could no longer torment him.

And I realize that I don't want either of those scenarios; I don't want him somewhere else finally free of the burden's and lessons and strings of this life, nor do I want him being here back in the turmoil of his old life.  What I want is to have  him back, with both of us realizing the journey we have each been on for the last five years. I want him back with some magical new-found knowledge that would enable him to say, "Wow, that was hard, but worth it because now I really know how to live. I love you Mom, thanks for waiting for me, it's going to be great now".  And I would have all the patience he required to find this new better life he would create, and then finally this small chapter of insanity I've been living through would gradually fade, leaving only the lessons and none of the pain.

Big Sigh. A few tears. A much needed reality check.

I've been stuffing my face since September, since Joey wasn't here to turn 27, and while I sometimes knew I was saying what the fuck as I gobbled down yet another piece of Halloween candy, another piece of Thanksgiving pie, another box of Christmas chocolates, mostly I was just whisking all thoughts of anything into a big metaphysical duffel bag and stuffing them down deep.  I have found it just way too easy to set the auto pilot to run while I check out. And with the first sunny morning in a long time, I finally have the thought that I need to start fighting back again.  Some of you know all too intimately how the stages of grief are measured in many different ways. It's not as though you feel things in an orderly and timely fashion and then your'e done. I think of my grief as being translated into words. For those who don't know, imagine those words becoming sentences, sentences stretching into paragraphs, and then collecting into chapters and books. The next thing you know the book is one in a set of volumes on the subject, and that your little collection is just a small section of shelving in your library of references on grief . Sure there are other books in the library, and in them reflections of joy and glimpses of possibilities for life beyond the passing of a child.  But I don't really want to live in this library. I want to burn it down and start fresh. I have worked so hard on and off to find a way to forgive myself for the part I played in his short life, but at best the forgiveness I do find is mostly pretence. Because to survive I do need to at least pretend that I am ok.

So back to fighting. That is what this post is about. It's about confessing how badly I have been doing and affirming my decision to put back on the boxing gloves yet one more time. I am not out for the count yet. Visions of fighting my way out of a wet paper bag suddenly appear before me, but oh well. A fight is a fight and I am up for it. I will go back to the basics that have helped before. Take care of the body and the mind will follow.

The temptation to make a list of how I will do that is very tempting, but in the shower this morning I had a thought about lists. For some it is a Honey Do exercise and they find it very satisfying to check off each item as it is done. For others of us, it is a way to cement in the real world the wishes and hopes and dreams we formulate in our own little fantasy worlds.  I have become very wary of my lists as they seem mostly to be accountings of good intentions that I will only come across later and say, "Oh yes, another failure that one!"  So no list today - although I can't promise there won't be one tomorrow - just a small determined 'hope' that today at least I will take care of myself just enough that I will feel like doing it again tomorrow.

And in doing this I am admitting that I cannot change anything that has gone before, and that trying to figure out what I should be wishing for is not just pointless but harmful. For the moment I have purged the strong feelings that make me crazy, I have accepted the reality that beating myself up accomplishes nothing, and I really really really want my 'muchness' back. Enough said.

Really, another list?

Two months have flown by, and again no writing to speak of...and a sentence almost ended in a preposition! My Bad.

I was having a conversation with my Mother recently, and this notion formed - why, if life is just one change after another, is it so hard for most of us to deal with things not staying the same? And I felt a truth emerge from that - perhaps that is the meaning behind our physical (human) experience; to learn to handle change so we can continue evolving.

And this morning in the shower a whole idea for a book formed from that insight; an enclave of spiritual beings selecting their 'human experience' from a menu of emotions that are based on a physical experience. Beings that are so far removed from what we experience on a daily basis that to them famine & gluttony along with pain & ecstasy are just a means to an end; to feel something. They are just a menu choice for their birth into the physical world where 'feeling' is possible.  Evolution having taken them to a place that was small instead of infinite, they use travelling to a physical world through 'birth' to learn about change before becoming extinct through ... apathy. Of course there will need to be some sense of looming disaster to lend expediency into the mix and form a story line.  Maybe someday the book will be written. In the meantime I can just keep living the experience and taking notes.

I also noticed this morning that taking a shower should not be so exhausting for the average healthy bear! So, as with many in the world this January I have what I hope are some resolutions to act upon as opposed to good intentions that tend to lie stagnant.

     1. Quit lying to myself; I've been eating horribly for months, not days.
     2. Live what I preach; eat mostly plants for energy and health.
     3. Do more of what makes me feel good (cook & write) and throw fewer pity parties with evil Mr. Sugar.
     4. Move! Stretch, Ride, Shoot, Smile.

And so the year begins.

Stuck

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions"...memorable advice from my maternal grandmother, Mommer, that I can't seem to follow despite how true the words ring or how often I quote it to myself and others.  The follow up is from my daughter, who looked up the word procrastination and didn't like what she read since that is a trait I seem to have passed along to her. I also do not like what it says about me, since I am a chronic procrastinator, and zeroed in on this passage:

Psychological

"The psychological causes of procrastination vary greatly, but generally surround issues of anxiety, low sense of self-worth, and a self-defeating mentality.^[4] Procrastinators are also thought to have a lower-than-normal level of conscientiousness, more based on the "dreams and wishes" of perfection or achievement in contrast to a realistic appreciation of their obligations and potential.^[5]"

That's me,dreams and wishes, and not living up to my potential.    Crap.    I hate being self aware on one hand and lazy enough to ignore what I learn on the other; there is a serious disconnect here and so far I have been unable to bridge the gap.  I am a good worker bee, and take pride in my work when it is for another. The disconnect becomes apparent when the work is for myself, and I continually forget about the ripple effect that can suck others down into my ever deepening tar pit of good intentions.  Road to hell indeed.  So today I decided to make myself a 'honey do' list (me being the honey), and what better place to post it than the blog I keep 'intending' to update!  I don't want to clutter the list with the day to day humdrum details that I keep putting off, but instead to focus on the things that I feel will help me move forward - the mental list that keeps popping up but is continually left undone. So my goal here is to write the list, and then stay accountable to myself by republishing it with items marked off.

     Reorganize home 'office'

     Mending

     Mileage Log

     Write each day for an hour instead of  virtual farming (more about that later)

     Yoga or stretching as a routine

     Quit fast food yet again

AND....this is ridiculous - making yet another list instead of working on something - I am the Goddess of Procrastination! At least I am writing it down so my actions can count towards the new habit of writing each day.  

I think I need to append the stages of grief with a notation about being stuck thrown in as 4.5 on the list.  That being said, I haven't even written about how I am working again, but that is for another day, and another moment of quiet in which to write.

"The sun will come out, tomorrow..."

While I don't like the idea of Annie replacing Pollyanna, the words seemed appropriate this morning.  I need to write...and I think I will start again tomorrow. And I need to start writing down ideas in a notebook so I can expound upon them later; who knows, these could be the columns that fuel my retirement!

Hating that I feel the need to write this down

I feel like I lost something today. Yes, it has been an extremely challenging week and yes I've made too many mistakes to count - nor would I want to count them at any rate - but now it all just seems a fitting prelude leading up to today. Going back to work was suppose to mean feeling good about taking care of my responsibilities, it was not suppose to be about bringing into focus how wrong I feel about everything in my life. And today, a Sunday,  was suppose to be about supporting my partner in something important, and instead we killed the fun of something we both love.  I'm just tired and sad, and embarrassed that I am just another lemming who is realizing the weekend is almost over.  A rum and diet Pepsi sits on my desk as I type, and I can't drink it fast enough to numb this awful feeling. Each of us home after a long and exhausting day spent at the same place doing the same thing yet not together, and now home; separate in our little offices that each use to be a bedroom to a bright and energetic child a lifetime ago and worlds away. What terrible things life has wrought, and just now it's hard to remember the good things. How maudlin of me, how deep my dive into the pity pool this afternoon.

Closet ramblings

A year or two or so ago I remember posting about clearing out old clothes from my closet - well, let me just go search and see if I can find it, hang on....found it! Too Many Clothes was written just barely over a year ago - wow, only a year?  I was so glad to find it just where I thought it would be under the label 'self discovery'. And now I want to write about lots of other things; why I looked first for a post about clothes under self discovery and about the benefit of keeping a journal or blogging or however we account for ourselves. Because going back and reading how I was feeling then, really helps me put into perspective what I am doing, thinking and feeling today. Now, what was I saying???

Oh yea, the closet and yes, the yearly spring cleaning - or should I say the yearly spring thinning?  I have been sort of sorting through my winter clothes as I do the laundry, and while there is less to go through this year, I am still amazed by how many things I have that just aren't me. All the 'make do' items that I bought as I grew larger just because they were the least offensive and fit the criteria of that day, or rather, they just fit period.  I hate all these high rise jeans I have, thank heavens my DD passed on some of her more current style jeans for me to wear during this weight transition. Reading back it's nice to see that the 18's are all gone now, and while I'm not as far along as I thought I would be by now size wise, at least I am still going in the right direction. And this year I am thinking about this before I drag the dreaded blue tubs out of the closet to sort through and exchange winter for summer garb. I will not pack away any winter clothes that I have kept before just because they fit or I might need a larger size next winter -not going to happen. Only the clothes that 'speak' to me get to stay. No dwelling over choices like I did last year, just looking forward to the fun of purging the things I really don't want to keep and lightening the load a little bit more ... both in the closet and off my shoulders.

The whole continuity of this makes me wonder if maybe next year I will feel compelled to post about this again, and I can't help but wonder how much better it will be - fewer and smaller clothes for sure - but also a clearer brain and a lighter heart. It's good to know I'm making progress, and that maybe someday there won't even be a link between the size of my jeans and the mental hurdles I put myself through. I can hardly wait!

Hiking Boots

I've never been one to plan much ahead, and I've always been intimidated by goals and, I suppose, the fear of failing to meet them. I know I have written before of how I disparaged of ever 'knowing what I will be when I grow up' and envied the far sightedness of my siblings as they worked towards their respective careers. But I think I've turned another corner and realized  something.

The morning was typical, including a post holiday cleaning of the kitchen; carefully washing and drying my grandmother's good sliver and crystal, loading the dishwasher with my mother's ironstone plates, and giving everything a good wiping down before heading to the gym. 

Audio book in ears and a good workout later I changed into jeans and  hiking boots to take the little dog for a walk. So, okay, this is another disjointed and rambling post, but that's how my brain has been of late - if 'of late' can mean a span of 30 or 40 years... - anyway I digress (duh!)  We have a shoot coming up in May where the hiking is fierce (Redding) and proper footwear is paramount. But the last couple of archery tournaments we hiked I noticed that my feet were overly tired, and realized my boots are probably about 6 years old. Yikes!  But not to despair, I do have a back up pair that I bought in Watkins Glen back in 2004 while slogging through the thick muddy trails at Nationals that year. But they are high tops, and heavy, and a little thicker and stiffer than I would like. They are also what I have and I can't really justify going out and getting something new, so for once I am thinking ahead and have decided to start wearing them everyday to break them in. Well, to be more precise, to break ME in, and give myself the chance to get use to them.

Which brings me around to the point I started thinking about on my walk with Kaylee. Maybe for me it's not about setting a goal and figuring out how to reach it. Maybe for me it's about giving myself a chance to become accustomed to the new 'weight' of what it is I want to do.  I know I have been doing this with my eating, working each day to eat for nutrition (that being said I had a ham and tomato sandwich for lunch, but I am human!) and becoming accustomed to more veggies and less processed grain as a way of life. And I do it with exercise, finding something each day to break a sweat or suffer the consequences of sleeping badly, and I think now it's time to do it with work.  Just like other facets of my life, I don't have to do it perfectly, or have some magnificent goal (think lake house) I just need to get my toes wet, and become accustomed to the work so that I get into the habit of doing it. Like being able to walk 2 treadmill miles or breaking in hiking boots so I won't end up with blisters or a charlie horse in my calf.

I had a bit of a conversation with a friend yesterday, who said, "I didn't know you were looking for a job, I'll keep my eyes open."  And I realized later that evening that the reason she didn't know, is that I don't want a job.  I have work to do, I just haven't been doing it. I remember blogging a bit ago that I was going to write everyday, and I haven't been doing that. So that is the first thing, get in the habit of writing.  Sharing the great products that I've been using is the 2nd  thing, so I need to update my Core4 blog and post the link.   WAIT A MINUTE!  So did I really just write that? I need to write each day and I need to update my Core4 blog. I know it isn't exactly the same thing, but close enough. Certainly part of my daily writing can be about my Core4 experience. And it's not just Core4 anymore, it's as much about the Xyng now too.

So today I will start getting use to the idea of working each day, that is better than putting if off until I can do it perfectly. And I want to digress yet again to thank some unknown DNA contributor for THAT lovely little gene; there should be a pill to treat for perfectionism. But I suppose action is that pill, and I'm thinking that I might be ready to take it.

So a thought can lead to a revolution; funny how there is never anything new, just new people learning the same things over and over and in many different ways.