Nowadays I find myself asking the question of for what purpose to many things. The biggest being: For what purpose was I born? Then there are those endless smaller ones. Why am I doing anything? I feel as if I’ve lost purpose and heart. I am Alice falling down the rabbit hole. And so now I am tapping out my anguish bland state of mind. If I don’t, would my mind have the energy to work up a frenzy?
There’s seems to be a purpose for words though, for the tapping of the keyboard. It feels much like a resuscitation of my will, my heart and mind. It is a mystery how it works. Perhaps there’s acupressure points on my fingertips. Whatever and however, I am grateful for a little revival of my spirit. I don’t quite have enough passion to work up a sweat yet. Who knows where the next tap will lead. The point is, I’m moving some body parts. Fingers count. Talking about fingers, I do have some good news. The pain is gone from my left hand. Hallelujah! I’ve had it since May – 10 months ago. It’s almost enough reason to feel joy.
Dang! February is hard. There’s more warnings for extreme cold temperatures for the next while. We did not really feel it today. It being so calm and sunny. Sheba and I went for our twice daily walks. She even hollowed out a nest in the snow and laid in it in the afternoon. Perhaps she thought she was an Eskimo.
It is another day, another cold one. It was -31 Celsius this morning. Driving across the bridge, I could not see far ahead, not beyond to the other side. The mist from the river and the exhaust from the cars occluded everything. I was thinking of the cold but not about minding it. Instead, I felt grateful that I’m not in other parts of the world that have floods, mud slides, volcanoes, earthquakes and the likes. What’s a little cold? I was sitting snug and warm in my car. I have warm clothes. I was not suffering at all.
The moment of gratitude changed my flat mood and attitude. My thoughts affect how I feel but I do have command of what I think. I can see the glass half full or I can see the glass half empty. I don’t have to think of or see the glass at all. I can just watch my thoughts in my mind like a ticker tape parade. I can watch and let them go, forming no opinions and attaching no emotions. It’s a breakthrough moment.
Breakthrough moments are catalysts for change. I shall not waste it. There are already many moments today when I feel myself slipping, sliding back into old habitual thoughts and feelings. I feel the familiar tugs but I am showing a backbone and resisting. I will not be slip sliding away. I will not be disappearing.
It’s one of those snow falling on cedars days days. The sun is trying to break through the clouds with fluffy white flakes drifting down. It’s kind of pretty, kind of melancholy. Don’t mind me. I’m just a natural born melancholy babe. I’m a broken record. Unfortunately I can’t sing like Judy. But I can dream about somewhere over the rainbow where bluebirds fly and dreams come true.
It’s another day. The sun is out. The sky is bright and clear. I wish my head is too, but alas! It is like a ticker tape with running rhetorics and what have you(s). Ok, I’m being dramatic. I have a sinus cold but nevertheless, my head is thick and hollow at the same time. Nothing coming in and nothing going out.
It is yet another day. I am a broken record. I have lost my way with words and thoughts. It is true. I haven’t been using them, now I’ve lost them. It will be hard work to coax them back. Oh well, I’ve lost heart and passion, too. The world is flat. It will be an uphill climb but I’m up for the challenge. I’ve been forever plodding on this weary road. The habit is in me. It is my Camino de Santiago.
So much for my plans for a heartful February. The best plans of mice and men often go awry. Mine certainly has. It feels that way but feelings are deceiving. Sometimes they are not true. If I am a depressive, I am a highly functional one. What seems like my lowest low can outshine another depressive’s highest high. I’m not bragging nor being facetious. I’m just being truthful. I always try. I’m always on the Camino. It’s just not in me to stop, give up, give in, throw in the towel, pack it in, abandon ship, derail, fall off the wagon…. That’s not how I am.
But I am a melancholic and love sad happy songs. I do wish I could sing. I wish I could sing like this angel.
So yesterday was Valentines Day, the day of hearts and flowers. As with all other special occasions, I’m slightly out of step. Perhaps I’ve been looking at my half empty glass instead of the half full one. Let’s face it, no matter how you look at it, the glass is only half of what it could be. No matter how many cute quotes you come up with or how positive you are, there must have been times when you’ve felt half empty, haven’t there?
Oh, I know. I had an intention of changing my voice for this heart month of February. I still have that intention but I want to rid the narratives in my head and the questions in my heart. It is really hard to be not who I am. Maybe I should give up trying to sound like someone else. I am who I am, of Asian flavour – the sum total of my heritage, upbringing and western influence. I should examine how all these influences have affected who I am and how I have felt about myself.
So it is three days post Valentines Day. I’m more out of step than I realize but I want to finish my conversation here. Life happens as they say. It’s gotten the best of me for now. I’m tired and lacking energy and drive. The well is dry. All I want to do the last couple of days is curl up with my blanket and watch Downton Abby on Netflix. Right now I want to fall asleep. I’ve lost heart in February. Ah! Sometimes the best laid plans do not work. I will throw up my hands and say, oh well and go to bed. Tomorrow is another day.
I’m repeating myself, but February is heart month. To have heart is to have courage. Sometimes Many times I feel such a lacking in myself. I have not taken the helm. I’m blown hither and thither in the winds of life. I have been so disengaged, living in my head mostly. I haven’t even noticed. I’ve said so many “it doesn’t matter” and “good enough”. Suddenly I woke up today to find that it does matter. I matter and I won’t settle for good enough. Things have to be better or I will not be able to move forward. I shall be forever walking down the same f**ing street in Portia Nelson’s poem.
“I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost… I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I am in the same place. But, it isn’t my fault. It still takes me a long time to get out.
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in. It’s a habit. My eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.
I walk down another street.”
I am very disappointed and angry with myself. I have been lazy. There’s no other reason. It’s hard work to have a life. I have gotten up, dressed up and shown up every day. But I have not put in the effort to do the hard work. I thought I have but I hadn’t. How the view changes as I wake up from my sleep. I have found some courage on the Yellow Brick Road to the Emerald City. I have to work and strengthen my heart and keep my brain clear not to regress and fall into the same frigging hole. I will avoid those 2 idiot phrases from my speech as much as possible. No, I must delete them completely.
Now if I was to fall into the rabbit hole with Alice, it might be more fun, revealing and helpful.
February – you are the heart month but you are also the coldest month so far. How am I suppose to keep heart? My fingertips are cracked and bleeding from the chill. That will teach me to take my gloves off to capture your icy beauty with my camera. I wince with each tap on the keyboard. It is worth it though. It all helps to give me heart, to keep it beating, to perfuse me with a creative force. It helps to have added purpose for Sheba’s and mine daily walks.
Keeping heart is sometimes hard for me. I feel things deeply – the highs and the lows. I bounce around like a rubber ball. I can run hot and cold at the same time. You might call me a HSP, a highly sensitive person. I fit the descriptions very well. I have all the 21 signs, most notably the need for alone time and absorbing other people’s feelings. Hell, all 21 points are strong in me.
I’ve never really checked into it before now. Maybe understanding myself better will help me to navigate life better. I hope it will lead to having an easier time relating to others and managing my emotions. Dang, life is frigging hard! There’s still things to learn no matter how old I am. I’m all for it. Bring it on.
I wonder why I have such a hard time. I guess it’s that HSP part in me. I feel too much. Why must I? I don’t like it one bit. Too bad, says the big guy in the sky. That’s who you are. Live with it. And so I must. Everything, no matter how small, that I can do for myself will help. At the end of it, they will be monumental, the very things that can tip an iceberg. So I gotta have heart, keep plugging away and put one foot in front of the other. I’m on the Yellow Brick Road. I want to find the Land of Oz and the Emerald City. I will follow Dorothy and her motley crew- the Scarecrow, The Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. Onward ho!
I’m grateful for no snow overnight. I just need a little break from shovelling. However, I’ve just looked up the forecast. It is for more snow and frigid temperature. Oh yay! But really, I’m not all that stressed over it. Sheba is pretty cool about it, too. She’s sitting pretty, waiting patiently for her supper. She’s been a super girl the whole week. She’s very good at keeping me up and going and going. Oops! She’s coming over to give me a gentle nudge. I guess she’s earned her supper. We can go for an earier walk after. I find my energy and mood starts to sag about 3 pm.
I guess I needed my rest. Those words from a few days ago. Chinese New Year is a good day to pick them up again. February is heart month and a month for sowing seeds, ideas, hope and love. My goal for this month is to soften, open and expand my heart. I want to lose my cynicism, pessimism and bitterness. I want to do away with my What does it matters. In this life whatever we put out in the universe matters. Every word, thought and action counts. I’m learning and trying to sing new tunes. I’m inspired by Mattie Stepanek. I thought if a 13 year old boy can sing heartsongs, so can I.
I know it will not be easy. Old habits die hard. But if I set the intention I’m more likely to succeed. If nothing else, I am a hopeful person. I am always open to learn from my own mistakes and to wisdom from others. SuperSoulSunday had a great interview of Norman Lear. He’s over 90 years old and have produced many TV shows – All in the Family, The Jeffersons Sanford and Son, Good Times, Maude Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman and One Day at a Time. I like what he says when something is over, it is over. Then it’s time to say next!
January is over. I’ve finished posting for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Now I like to write for the Heart Month of February. Writing, photography and posting them are my therapy. I am not a good or professional writer and photographer but I love the practices. I hope I am improving in both as I go along. Like my Bernina sewing machine, I’m made to create. I rid my stress and distress through these expressions. It is better than exploding and imploding.
I woke up last night with a mini panic attack. I had this feeling of breathlessness. My mouth was so dry and my throat tight. I could not take a deep breath. I tried to shrug and laugh it off, rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. It didn’t work. Fear started to creep in. Thoughts of all my COPD patients flashed instantly through my mind. I wondered if I was an empathetic nurse to them. I know that I offered treatment – inhalers, nebulizers, more oxygen. I would call the doctor if all failed. But was I understanding? Was I kind?
Now the shoe is on my foot. I am the patient panicking in the night. I had experienced it once before. It was much worse then. Experience does help. I comforted myself, got up and walked to the kitchen. I put the kettle on for some hot water. I wondered if it could be my sinuses. I looked for my saline mist and my nasonex. I am a patient and a nurse all in one. I slowly walked my kitchen, drinking my hot water. It was calming.
I knew better than trying to go back to sleep right away. I sat up in bed with two pillows behind my back and read. It was a journal from years past. I was always thinking and scribbling, especially when I’m not feeling good. Whether those scribblings of feelings were true or not is debatable. It tells me 2006 was really a hard, hard year. I was coming off celexa and using natural remedies. I’ve forgotten about the St. John’s Worts and 5-HTP.
I can understand why I had stopped reading my journals. I wrote mostly when I was feeling bad. Reading it now, I would say I must have been damned depressed all the time. That is if I didn’t know me. But I do. What I know for sure is that yes, I fucking sure struggled alot. It was worth my while. I remember remarking to a counsellor that every time I filled one of those psychological assessment forms, I feel that I don’t need counselling. I have never felt hopeless. Her observation was it’s a good thing.
It is a good thing, all my struggles. I don’t regret anything. I do feel like a failure at time. Failing is not a bad thing. It gives me a chance to do better. I’ve never been ashamed of my depression. I’ve never hid it. I do talk about it. I’m not being brave. I’m seeking a solution. For the month of February, I’m writing for my heart and brain. I can see from the now vantage point, I have come a long way. I have been off all medications prescribed and natural for depression since 2006. Instead I got Sheba. She is good medicine. But she was hard to raise from 2 months. It took years. Now she is perfect.