GOOD FENCES DON’T ALWAYS MAKE FOR GOOD NEIGHBOURS

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A new morning. A new day. I was able to nudge the rock from my hard place. There’s more room to maneuver now. It’s true that not everyone sees the same picture. Not everyone have the same experience of the same situation. I don’t want to live in a world of polarity, one in which you are right and I am wrong or I am right and you are wrong. Must we always talk in absolutes? If we must, then the conversation is dead.

There are more than 50 shades of being anything. But I haven’t been able to negotiate with any yet. I’m living in a world of action and reaction. You are always right or I am always wrong. Nah nah nah nah! I am tired of being polite, diplomatic and travelling the high road, turning my cheek at the same time. I’m tired of having it thrown in my face. I am ready to cede to accepting the fault as mine – just to mend the fence and end the war. It doesn’t make me a better or worse person. But it does end the dispute, argument, and fight over superiority. It puts an end to everything.

I’m not feeling super but neither am I in the pits. Using a worn cliche, Life goes on. The sun is bright and warm. The birds are flitting here and there. I’ve put in my rows of peas. The stakes for them to climb are up, too. Whatever happens between our fences, I might have a few greens to eat later. The Weed Man has been contacted and informed that we do not want any chemicals on our side of the fence, regardless of what the neighbour says.

I feel as if my soul is being poisoned by all this. It is sprayed and wilting. It will brown soon and crumble into a million pieces. So I must raise my fences and put on my impervious shell, smile, nod and still try to be a good human being. What else can I do?

SO MUCH FOR GOOD INTENTIONS

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Some days I start out with such good intentions. There are so many spoilers and you know, dear reader, how accident prone I am. Well, I’m drinking a toast to them to show I harbour them no ill feelings. I’m swigging back a beer on this hot day in Saskatoon. But I see it’s only 24 degrees Celsius. Maybe it is just my internal furnace running overtime on high. Great big sigh and another swig of beer. Ah! Much better.

The dog and I had a trek in the park. Sheba got her feet wet. I sat on the bank under the shade of some branches and watched the river flow. It is difficult to understand why people, especially a neighbour would deliberately try to get under my skin. But then I am talking about a sociopath. I’m in what they call between a rock and a hard place. I lost my friggin’ mind again. There is no reasoning with such a person. There’s no asking for respect. I can only take a deep breath and let it go. It’s a tough one today as with each incidence. It’s only time that can move that rock and hard place. So I’m breathing and tapping. Time, for a change is not moving fast.

I’m not having qualms turning towards my comfort drink. Orange Pekoe tea is harmless. I might be making frequent trips to bathroom. It’ll be worth it. I’ll be peeing out the toxins caused by my inability to remain equanimous through all weather. I feel heartbroken and sad after each incident as if it was me who caused it. My stories are quite unbelievable unless you have had experience with a sociopath. I try not to tell those stories anymore. Sometimes I feel worse after my vents. Someone once told me she was glad that she doesn’t live next to me after one telling. All I could say was, I’m glad you don’t either. Then I felt I was really mean and nasty.

Now, I am okay with the feeling – mean spirited, guilt and all. I know I am not. I’m guilty of not being brave and having trust in my own judgement. It is really tough when I am in that space between a rock and a hard place. There is no where to go. There is no recourse to me. Whatever I do or say will be wrong. But I am a matured adult. I can bear whatever consequences my actions bring. I don’t have to look for Alice’s rabbit hole for escape.

I know that sleep will be elusive tonight. I will not torture myself trying. Instead, I will read a little more on Julie Yip-Williams’ cancer fighting journey. It will remind me how good it is to be alive. She had lost fight but she gave me such wonderful insights into life with her words. Thank you, Julie.

 

TALKING ON MOTHER’S DAY

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A hot 26 degrees Celsius on a Mother’s Day. I agree with Anne Lamott’s article on Why I Hate Mother’s Day.  The article didn’t make Anne popular. She received a lot of hate mail for it. Agreeing with her probabley won’t make me loved either. Though I haven’t receive any hate mail, I can feel the disapproval. I’m not unfamiliar with those feelings. While Miss Lamott is considered a trail blazer for her frankness, I am not bestowed with such.

Shucks! I will have to bear the brunt of my words. Words do have alot of power as Caroline Myss proclaims. She has lectured about it many times. I shall have to give words more respect and use them with care. There is a possibility that I do voiced what others would only think. It would be wise of me not to give my opinions and feelings so freely. I do not have to be an open book. At the same time I need not be a clam with lips sealed tight. I could learn from these wise and wonderful words.

“Talking is fantastically overrated. Too many people do too much of it. It stuns the hell out of me how so many people like to talk. Sharkey, for example. If talking is so good for you, what the hell is Sharkey doing here? The guy tears me up. Talking does not heal you. Talking just adds to the noise pollution in the world. If we were really serious about going green, then maybe we’d all just be quiet.” 
― Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Last Night I Sang to the Monster

“I choose to choose few words each day. Yes! few words that count. Few words that can make impact. Few words that talk much. Few words that can make people ponder to wonder. Few words that are indelible. Few words that can leave distinctive footprints on minds. Though we may fail to mind our words, we shall never fail to mind the works of our words.” 
― Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

Ah, I wish that I had written those words! I may be able to come up with some of equal power if I talk and share less. Wise is a woman who keeps her counsel. I’ve never betrayed another secret nor spread malicious lies. I have been a victim though. Who hasn’t? People who tell their secrets should never ask another not to repeat it. It’s asking for too much. IF you don’t want people to tell, you should not tell yourself. The power lies in the choices we make.

What I know for sure is I try to speak always in the first person singular – I.  I get tripped up frequently.  I’m reminded with the question: Who’s THEY? What I know for sure are the things that pertain to myself only. Everything else is guess work. What I know for sure today is, I do love my mother and we celebrated the occasion with a meal. I have not been buying her gifts she seldom wear/use for a few years now. Like Anne Lamott I do not care for these ‘special days’ when you are expected to celebrate in certain ways. These ‘special days’ include Father’s Day as well as Mother’s Day, Christmas, Easter and birthdays. I know it is not a popular sentiment.

Growing up, my siblings and I did not have birthday parties or presents. My mother always made something special to eat like a chicken drumstick and a hard boiled egg. I’m sure there is a significance to them but I am not sure what. I am not a very good Chinese. I am somewhat ashamed to say that we have not done anything for my parents’ birthdays. They have never voiced any disappointment nor displeasure. My mother is quite proud of us. She should be. She has raised us well. As for my father, I am not sure. He is not a demonstrative man. He did not participate in our upbringing. He was the breadwinner.

So I did not grow up in the normal Western traditional family. I am a child of immigrant parents. We adlibbed, adopting some Western traditions while tweaking the traditional Chinese ones as necessary in our circumstances. We had Charlie Brown Christmas trees and celebrations. I am tired of it all, fitting in, trying to be ‘normal’. Now I want to cast off what is not true for me. I want to get up every morning feeling that EVERY day is special. I like to celebrate by being a kind considerate person who will greet each day and each person with kindness and cheer. I struggle with it every day. Gee Wheez, I am talking too much again.

 

 

 

IT IS GOOD ENOUGH

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The sun came as ordered today. My bedding plants and I breathed a sigh of relief. Our world looks bright and hopeful once more. I don’t like change very much but nothing is constant. Even though I can try to hang onto things with tooth and nail, changes are happening all around me and to me. So I am learning to lean towards it rather than running away. Life is easier and better that way. I breathe easier and deeper accepting that which I cannot change.

What took me so long, eh? I don’t like to acknowledge that I could be wrong or that there is another way. There is always another way/side to everything. I see through so many shades and filters of my lens depending on what I want to see. I can use so many justifications to make everything sit copacitic with my heart and soul. I didn’t even know it until now.

Knowing that, I’m slower voicing my thoughts and opinions. I take longer to observe and reflect. There’s no hurry to form a judgement, is there? I’m going to blame my nursing profession again for some of my lacks. When you work in a hospital setting of life and death, there’s a crisis around every hallway. It’s STAT this, STAT that. You have to make quick decisions. It’s action and reaction, a snap of the fingers. I take all the stuff home. I treated everything like a crisis. Have to fix it right away. Right now, STAT!

Most of life is not a crisis. Many things and decisions can wait. Many decisions are not life and death. They don’t have to be THE perfect decison. I have to use my best judgement and pick one. Then I need to let go and not agonize over whether if it was THE best. Most of the time it does turn out to be the best.

I’m sitting in glory and ease, tap, tapping out gleefully in my moment. I’m experiencing the sweetness of a success. I had talked about my father losing all his PC Optimum points on his card yesterday. It took me quite a few phone calls and emails to straighten it out. It would have been much easier for me to give him the $20 and lie about recovering it from the company. I decided to follow through with one more phone call and one more email. Low and behold, I looked at his account online. It said, Welcome Sam. Your point balance is 9,146. It is short 5,000 points from what he thought. It is good enough. Better than 0.

It is a good enough day, too. It was 2 degrees Celsius this morning. Now it is 20 degrees. All the bedding plants are airing and sunning on the deck. I have seeded one raise bed with spinach, lettuce and kale. Crossing my fingers and toes they will germinate. The seeds had sat all winter on the deck. Life is like that. Not perfect. Not bad. Some sunshine. Some rain and lots of snow at times.

PARANOIA DOES NOT BECOMES ME

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Another cool morning. Another day for my bedding plants to huddle on the dining room table instead of shivering on the deck. Another poor sleep. I woke up at 3 am for a call of nature. After an hour of laying in bed and visions of my father’s PC Optimum card floating in my head, I decided it was time to get up.

I wonder how reward cards are benefiting us. They sure have us spending much time on collecting points and jumping through hoops for them. I’ve spent quite a bit of time and energy registering, registering and phoning as to why my father lost all his points – 20,000 points($20). Even though I had told them my father can’t understand or speak much Chinese, they said they need his permission to talk about his account. Now I’m spending more time talking about all this. It is really laughable. I would laugh if I didn’t have the cloudy, rainy day blues.

How many other useless gimicks are THEY tricking us with? What is THEIR agenda? What am I MISSING when I refuse to participate in all this? I am sure there is a trick somewhere. Paranoid, you say. You bettcha I am. THEY have eyes and ears everywhere, watching and listening. Did you know that they can spy on you through the camera on your computer? A friend told me that. She throws a towel over the camera aperture. Mrs. Google confirmed that it is possible when I checked. I use her for everything – cooking, baking, how to do practically everything. I suppose my life is an open book. Is that a bad thing? I can’t trip up since I got nothing to give up, not even my privacy.

How is your morning? Hope paranoia is not contagious. I will right myself again once the sun comes up, if it ever will. In the meantime, I’ll go and try to make my own.

I’M SORRY

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It’s not a warm morning. It snowed somewhere in our fair province. The bedding plants will stay on the diningroom table today. They were shivering out on the deck yesterday. No point in challenging the weather. I will be content huddling inside with hot drinks and the fur baby. I did get a good night’s sleep but I’m still edgy and cranky. Trying to tap. it. out. Breathing. slowly. and. deliberately. I snapped at one of those phone people calling again about services for my computer. “I don’t have one!” It cuts the call short.

It’s not the way I want to be – talking and behaving badly. I come to this space to do it. It’s contained and stays on the page. How others view my words and actions are no business of mine. I will not see their facial expressions nor their body language. Of course they can always make a comment but I have the power of deleting if I don’t like it. In real life, vis-à-vis, I can’t do that. It’s most difficult to even get a I’m sorry. Only Brenda Lee  is good at saying/singing it.

It is now evening. A whole day almost gone. The rain has smoothed my edges. I’m feeling mellow yellow. I haven’t been smoking or drinking yet either. It was probably from walking with Sheba in the rain. It could put dampers on nervous energy. For every problem there is a solution. You need to have the faith. It’s not easy. I know it from experience. If you keep plugging away with due diligence, you will get results.

 

2 EGGS, 3 STRIPS OF BACON, 2 SLICES OF TOAST, HASH BROWNS AND A COFFEE

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It happens. I’ve had a couple of not so good sleep nights. I suffer for it. I really do. I notice it all the more now that I’m a recovered sleeping person. But like all recovered/recovering people, I fall off the wagon occasionally. The good thing is that I haven’t resorted to all my previous coping methods or behaviour – much. I haven’t fallen back into the teapot, staying with my 2 cuppa day limit. I was tempted. You know that feeling, groping towards comfort drinks and food. I was tempted to head out to A&W for that promise of an awesome breakfast yesterday. 2 eggs, 3 strips of bacon, 2 slices of toast, a hash brown and a small coffee for only $4.99!

As luck would have it, that coupon had expired the previous day.  To do myself proud I had already nixed the idea before I realized that. I have worked hard all winter learning how to break the habit of myself. Apparently Dr. Joe Dispenza knows his stuff. His method is working for me. For sure I am struggling a bit alot. It shows that I’m not caving into my previous habitual self. No pain, no gain as they say. I’m accepting my flaws. I’m embracing my humanity.

I must admit that I have a bit of the blues, not the curled-up-in-a-ball, down and out kind of depression. I’ve never had that kind. I’ve always struggled up. I’m an irksome, annoying kind of Chinese chick. I keep getting up and wanting to improve on things. I think I’m good enough now. I’m working on things. Finally most of university and nursing textbooks are recycled. I’ve kept the one for my class on the Philosophy of Religion. The class and the professor were privotal in my young life. He could see that I was troubled and floundering. He cancelled a scheduled class to spend the hour with me.

“The class today is cancelled. Miss Leung, may I see you in my office?” He announced. I can still hear the shuffle of feet and gathering of books as my classmates rose from their desk. They cast glances at me on their way out. I wonder what she did, their expressions queried. I followed my professor to his office. The memory is more precious to me now than at the time. It is only in the present I recognized how valuable that hour was. I’m not feeling at all insignificant but valued. Even though my mentor, Caroline Myss says nobody is special, I’m feeling special.

It’s a cool day. It’s almost 2 pm and only 11 degrees Celsius. I’m not feeling overly ambitious but I’m still piddling steadily along. Like the FlyLady says, I’m not behind. I’m starting where I am. Though I didn’t feel like it, I’ve put all my bedding plants out again on the deck. They’ll toughen up and get sturdier for their permanent transplant in the beds later. I’ve cleared off another small area in the basement, organized my sewing stuff, collapsed and folded up the table. I’m finishing my thoughts here and taking the last sips of my Rooibos tea. Yup, going herbal and organic. Now to tend to the lunch dishes.

TALKING BADLY TUESDAY

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Oh, to be human can cause us such miseries. It’s how I experience life. I have to remember that I am talking for myself only. To punish myself and feel worse, I judge myself for my humanity. That is part of being human, too. So pardon me for speaking out, breaking the taboo of airing my dirty laundry. I’m not British. I don’t have that stiff upper lip. The thing is, I’m Chinese. We like to ‘save face.’ We don’t talk about ‘private matters’. At least my mother and her generation doesn’t. I am not made of sterner nor noble stuff like that. I am unable to harbour all this ‘stuff’ inside. It’s toxic to my soul. I have to vent.

Brene Brown has done much important work on human connections. Her TED Talk on the power of vulnerability is powerful. I was quite blown away when I first watched it. I had hoped that it would strike a chord within all of us to open up, be vulnerable and share. I don’t think I have that problem. My problem could be the opposite. Maybe I shared too much. I was so busy doing that I had no time, or maybe it was I never gave other people an opportunity to do their sharing. I found myself quite taken back later, like years, that I had been in the dark – without a match, without a clue.

You can imagine the hurt I felt. I spilt my gut, my innards bleeding on the sidewalk but you/they kept mum. My mother would have found that admirable. But I can only talk it out -badly. Isn’t it what they all tell you to do? Get it out! Hash it out! Not too many people I know do though. Are you surprised? I’m not. I’ve learned it from experience. Am I disappointed? No. That’s how we are. Well, it’s not really how I am but I am learning to be that way. I’ll let you know if it is a better way. You know what they say. The less said, the better.

WRITING BADLY AND OTHER INADEQUACIES

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I have a million things to do but here I sit, tapping listlessly. It’s 26 degrees Celsius outside. Too hot to take the fur ball for her walk and too late to go to the river. Guess we will wait till it the sun goes down a bit. It’s good day for the solar panels. Making electricity while the sun shines.

I feel a tad melancholy. No worries though. It’s not as bad as my writing. I do have some good news. I had a dental appointment this morning. Teeth cleaned and buffed. No cavities! I’ve set up lawn mowing service for my parents for the summer. Their insurance claim for house damages from last summer’s hail storm dealt with. Contractors to do repairs set up. It does help to solve problems as they come up and do follow ups. Less build up of stress. Today I can afford to mope – but not for long.

Things/life never let up. I know that now. I cannot get blindsided. I know how things go. What goes up must come down. That is gravitas/gravity. I wish I could be less grave, be more light-hearted. But I seem to dwell in the valley of seriousness. I hate frivolity. I can’t even imagine being jocular. Can I blame it on my childhood? What if I told you that my paternal grandmother was a very grumpy person. She didn’t like girls. Good thing she had 3 sons and no daughters. I think she nattered at me alot when I was small. My father was/is a grumpy person also. I’ve heard the story of how he tossed me out on the steps in one of his moods. I was 2 years old. So I got my grumpiness quite honestly – through my genetics. Does that get me off the hook?

Then there’s my maternal grandparents. They literally had to run for their lives – from the Communists. My grandfather got away to Hong Kong. So they put my grandmother in jail instead. It’s a story I’ve told before. Both of them have passed now but they had a few good years reunited with their children, including my mother, in New York City. Their story is in our marrow forever. We are a very serious family.

That is not to say that I/we don’t experience joy. Just don’t expect me to be gleeful in an exuberant manner. I always feel guilty and lacking for not being ‘that’. At the same time, I am not full of gloom and doom. Though I might sometimes sound like I’m apt to leap off a cliff, I am not ‘that’ either. I think it’s not the writer’s feelings the reader is interpreting but rather his or her own. I am a hopeful person mostly. That surprises me, too!

 

BEST TIMES FOR EVERYTHING

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Needless to say I haven’t found the cure to my after lunch blues. Maybe it is just a part of my daily physical biorhythm. I should not fight against myself. This is the perfect time for me to be here. I can sit, tap, muse and bitch about life in general. I’ve trained myself enough to clean up and do the dishes though it feels like torture. Now the bread is baking in the oven. I had thought about putting the whole bowl of dough in the oven without dividing into loaves. But my somewhat rational brain said: DON’T! I listened.

Perhaps I should chart my daily energy and mood for a month to see where the peaks and dips occur. I could coordinate activities accordingly. There’s a science to this. Everybody has their opinion. I think I want to do my own research since people’s chemistry vary. I sure don’t feel like going to the gym at 6 pm. Right now, I feel like a nap. It’s 2:17 pm. I’m tapping furiously to stay awake. The bread is still in the oven.

What I know for sure is I feel the best in the morning. After lunch it is all downhill. I have no ambition nor drive after supper. It leaves a very small window for a slow poke like me to get anything done. I want to nap so bad. I wish that bread would hurry up!