Month: January 2021

WHISTLE WHILE YOU WORK

The sun has finally shown up. These long winter days are longer and lasting longer than I had realized. It is almost February and almost 10 am. Things are wearing a little more on me. My antidote has always been have another cup of tea and tap a few words. The tea part is always easy. My words are not so readily come by these days. I’m now living in a world of one hand clapping. Can you hear it? It’s a place where it is difficult to clap back.

I’m doing my darnest to put my best foot forward. Each day I wake up, get up, dress up and show up. Sometimes it is hard not to feel sad in these times. When the numbers of Covid-19 positives and deaths are rising, there are still those anti-mask, conspiracy protesters. It is one thing to rally at the legislative buildings, it is another to gather and protest outside our chief medical officer’s home. And why do they not do that outside the health minister’s or the premier’s homes? Our chief medical health officer is a man of colour and has been verbally abused in past rallies.

It’s another morning. A little warmer today but I don’t find too much difference between -20 C something and -30 C something. Cold is cold but the sun is out. I’m on my second cup of tea. I try not to focus on how I feel too much. Mornings can be my best and worst at the same time. I’m not one who springs out of bed singing and whistling. The only ones I know who does that is Snow White and the seven dwarfs. Mind you, it is a very cheery tune. I can hear it in my head. It might be a great way to start the morning. It would give my rear end and my serotonin level a much needed boost.

Yesterday was a hard day – cold fatigue, lethargy and a dread in my head. Those things in the head are always worse than reality. Knowing that intellectually if not bodily, I forged ahead as best as I could. It’s wisdom to learn and change from experience. I’m glad I have wisened up a little. It’s about time! Life can be a little easier if I use my head and think things through before proceeding. Shopping can be exhausting for me during the best of times. Now it is more when we have to mask in all public buildings. I try to do all my shopping chores at one go. It can take some time as I do some for my parents, too. The last time, I got into a coughing fit from being masked too long. I had a few people looking at me nervously.

Now, I try to break it up into two segments. I do the pharmacy pick ups and groceries first. Then I take them outside to the car. That way I can take my mask off and get some fresh air before I go back into the mall to finish my other shopping. It worked well for me yesterday. And I ask the store employees to point me in the right direction to locate items. That way I don’t have to wander up and down aisles endlessly searching. I try not to park underground as the air smells of exhaust and I’m not sure of the circulation. But if I have perishables that would freeze and I’m not sure how long I would be finishing up, I would move my car there.

FEELING GOOD WHEN I’M FEELING BAD

Sometimes my emotions can turn on a dime. I’m paying attention to identify the triggers. Maybe it is just a matter of my chemistry being altered and any one thing can upset my apple cart. By now I have had enough experience with my history, I don’t need to run off to the psychiatrist’s couch to lament or to ask for a prescription. I’ve also stopped reading those self-help books and taking online courses on how to fix myself. I have graduated from life’s school of hard knocks with a prestigious PhD. I am my own Personal Health Doctor.

No one knows me better than myself. It is about time that I listen and trust in me. It is only natural that we have good and bad days. What goes up, must come down. I should listen to the Blood, Sweat and Tears and “ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel spin”. In other words, get on the damn merry-go-round and ride it out. It will eventually stop. So that’s what I’m doing – riding it out.

In the meantime I’m still living and feeling whatever it is that is here in me. I’m not trying to fight it off like I used to. That would be a form of self abuse, wouldn’t it, to deny part of yourself? Is self love not encompassing all parts of the self, the good, bad and ugly? Though it is hard, I do try to sit with all my physical and psychological discomforts. My natural inclination has always been to run away. It never works. It comes back again and again. And now, after I have stopped running, it comes back less and less. My bad feels better and better.

What is it that I do besides not running away? Well, nothing special. I just carry on with daily life as best as I can. I still have to get out of bed, dress up and show up. It’s doing all those boring things like brushing my teeth and other personal hygiene routines. It’s having nutrituous meals and getting fresh air and exercise. It’s keeping house and having hobbies. It’s showing an interest in life and others. Even when I don’t feel like it, I act like I am. There’s wisdom in faking it till you make it. One thing for sure is I never feel like just curling up and sleeping it off.

No matter how I feel, I can still bake – bread, cookies, muffins. It’s comforting to measure, mix and kneed. The aroma of bread and chocolate chip cookies baking is very healing. No matter how slow and sluggish I am, I still took apart a long winter coat, lining and all. Somehow, some way I will find the energy to revamp it into a different coat. Recently I sew up 2 pairs of panties from an old t-shirt. It’s good to have something to take apart when you’re feeling out of sorts. Then there’s painting. It’s also a good thing when you’re feeling blue and that your life is nothing. In those moments, I feel it’s ok to just splash paint and make a mess on the canvas. I am so delighted when something nice comes out of it. Then there’s writing. The tap, tap, tap on the keyboard is very relaxing and therapeutic. And I get to let out my angst. There’s pleasure in putting in and arranging my photos, too. I love reading other people’s words. Today I’m rereading Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. The last time was when I was in high school.

ONE SQUARE A DAY

It’s so difficult to come to the keyboard these days. It’s difficult to start a conversation. It’s equally hard to start the day. I’m trying hard not to let time slip away. The time on this earth is valuable. It is limited and it will never come again. I’m resolving not to let my thoughts and emotions get the best of me and render me useless. The show must go on. I start my day with those daily routines. Breakfast, taking my vitamins, getting out of my pjs, straightening a thing or two and feeding Oscar, my sourdough starter.

I wandered downstairs to look at my fabric stash. I’m thinking of joining the100dayproject. It starts on January 31st. I thought I would sew a square a day for a 100 days. I have already sewn a few squares together a couple of years ago, thinking I would make a colourful summery quilt. Here’s my chance to finish another abandoned project. It would give me a purpose, add to my daily routine. A square a day could keep the pyschiatrist away. It would also help to clear out my fabric stash.

It’s not that I lack things to do. I have a million and one interests/things to do. I lack emotional stamina to keep going. I fall into ruts and off the wagon often. I do need motivations, many cups of tea and those strong rah! rah! rah! from the sidelines to cheer me on to the finish line. My first 100dayproject in July/2016 helped me to realize doing art instead of just talking about it. Here’s the first and the 100th of that project.

I’m feeling super pumped now. It helps that I’ve just been out on the ski trails and breathing all that fresh air. I tried the ski trail at the Wildwood Golf Course the first time today. I did the 2.5 km perimeter loop. It’s just what I need to develop technique and confidence. It took some time to get back to the parking lot. I had no concept of how much being out there under grey skies. I quite enjoy the spaces when I was alone. I could practice without worrying about how ridiculous and clumsy I look or if I fall. I would have to had an audience when I couldn’t make it up a hill and slid backwards, eventually falling. But no despair but laughter on my part for now I am able glide downhill comfortably without much fear. I’ve left those weak knees and jelly legs behind.

I am so glad to have had this time together. It’s good to have this conversation. It makes me feel not so blue, that life has meaning and purpose. So I will let Carol Burnett take me out with her sign off song. And I will tug my earlobe for luck.

THE BEST OF TIMES, THE WORSE OF TIMES

What strange times we are living in. It is almost straight out of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. It is the best of times, it is the worse of times. I hope the outcome is that it is also the age of wisdom. We have no one person or country to blame. We are all in this together, whether it is by duplicity or complacency. We are in an upheaval. This is our French Revolution. It is unprecedented times.

It is a bit frightening. It does not make me want to take note. I still don’t like to take my head out of the sand. But I’ve finally all grown up. I come out and take a look around. I am learning to see how things as they are and not how I would like them to be. It’s a steep learning curve to take my personal emotions out of the equation. But I am getting it. You can teach an old dog new tricks. Enlightenment does not always bring gratification. Sometimes it brings regret – of wasted time and energy. Gratification comes much later.

I have been showing up less here on the page. I feel a reluctance to put down the words. I am also feeling an upheaval within, a change, a revolution. They are hard to articulate. I am sitting, feeling and savouring them for awhile. I am giving them and myself time to evolve and develop. I don’t want to sabotage the outcome as I have many times in the past. Meanwhile I’m trying to live each day, be my own person as best as I can.

I am still working on Stephanie Bennett Vogt’s A Year to Clear. I have faltered a little here and there but always try to get back on track. It is easy to do one little thing a day on hard days. When things flow I do more. I guess that’s what going with the flow means. There’s no point wasting energy fighting myself. I’ve learned to put that energy to better use. I have given up growing lettuce in these winter months in the greenhouse and the sunroom for the same reason. There is not enough sunlight. It is a season to rest from the planting, growing and harvest of the preceding months. It is the time to get ready for spring and start the cycles again.

We are still in the midst of Covid-19. It will not be over soon. We are locked in, psychological if not physically. I’m beginning to feel much like Dickens’ characters, Charles Darnay or Dr. Mannette locked in jail. I worry about my mental and emotional well being. It is good to have projects and challenges to work on. This is a gift of time. I shall put it to good use. The days are slowly getting longer. In a few weeks I can think about starting a few bedding plants. This is the best of time to do different, to do better, to reinvent our lives and our world.

THE LONELIEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR

It is New Year’s Eve. It’s the first Christmas and New Year without Sheba. My eyes mist and my throat tightens. It is the way of nature. There’s birth, life and then death. A cycle complete but not an ending. I like to think that Sheba came to me in the guise of a fox the other evening while skiing in the park. I went or fell down two little hills. A little fox came and stayed with me till I was on my feet again. I thought it was a cat at first. I called ‘here kitty’. It came within a certain distance, crouched down and watched me all the while. I felt we were part of each other, breathing in and out. A miracle of connecting. Perhaps it was Sheba coming to check on me. I remember her favourite cuddly was her little fox with a squeaker in the head and tail.

Happy New Year has come and gone. Not as much fuss as other years but it was still marked with an explosion of fireworks at midnight. I did not feel I missed much. Most of my new year’s eves have been pretty quiet affairs. Sometimes it can be the loneliest night of the year for many people. I know that I’ve often felt a misfit and a failure on many of these evenings. One year my then husband and I attended a New Year’s Eve party at his boss’s house. There was a pot of chili on the stove, people here and there. We all wore party hats and had whistles streamers. At midnight we dutifully blew our whistles but none of us seemed at all pumped. It was the saddest party of all times. It still left an impression on me after all these years.

I’m well past my prime and finally I’m okay being left out of the hoopla. What I mean is I’ve never been a party girl but never been brave enough to admit it. It’s a natural thing to want to fit in, be part of the crowd. I wonder if we are all like that – putting up a front. So for the first time, I don’t have to make up a cover story for New Year’s Eve. I did nothing. So there is a silver lining to every cloud, even Covid-19. I probably wouldn’t have taken up skiing either if it didn’t happened. I would have missed out on our moonlight skis. I would have missed the fox/Sheba encounter. I wouldn’t have had this pause to think, to question the many aspects of life, of relationships, of my past thinking /behaviour, of where to next and how to get there.