No Reason At All

Another beautiful sunny August morning. I’m on my second cup of tea. I should be getting on with my day but I haven’t been able to give up this indulgence. It’s harmless and maybe helpful and healthful. So let me indulge away. Beautiful as these August days are, I have to remind myself the days are getting shorter. The sun rises later and sets earlier. Sometimes I find my moods turning on a dime, feeling bad all of a sudden, for no reasonable reason.

I turn on myself, not being kind or generous. It takes a moment before the light bulb clicks on. I realize then that it is late August and perhaps it is my old friend, SAD, calling again. I feel better that there is a reason, a cause and that I am not just a miserable good for nothing person. I haven’t yet ascended to the level where I can accept that it is ok to feel whatever I feel without a reason. But I am better at letting these moods pass on their own. I am not so dogged at ‘fixing myself’. Perhaps I am at last learning about acceptance.

Finding Peace, Moving on

It’s difficult to come to the keyboard in the morning. I have to make the best of it and settled for afternoons and evenings. There’s much garden work and the best time is mornings when it is still cool and I’m fresh. I’m into the rhythm of it now. I’m sufficiently recovered from losing my mother and my hearing almost at the same time. I do not like to talk much about either experience. I’m superstitious. I don’t want to jinx myself. I’ve recovered a good part of my hearing. I am highly functioning again. I’ve regained most of my self confidence though feeling life is very vulnerable.

I would say that this past year is a most pivotal year. I am woke, seeing and hearing the world and life through a different lens and ear. It might be paradoxical, but I have been both traumatized and gratified by my experiences. I am reconciled to my new realities. The fog has lifted. I am strong again. I am at peace and moving on with living. I find myself enjoying again working in the garden and greenhouse. The empty spaces meant for bitter melons are not seen as failures but spaces for new possibilities of parsley, more cucumbers and lettuce. Yes, maybe, just maybe it is still possible for bitter melons. I stuck in 3 bitter melon seeds. If I don’t, there definitely will not be any.

There was no smoke for this 17th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. We had sunshine. I was off early in the morning to the community garden to harvest and water. Now in late afternoon, we are having rain. It’s good for the garden. It is good for me. I don’t have to water the home garden. Yay!

What is

Some days I like to give up and give in to my desire to just sit and be. It feels like such a luxury and it is these days. Still I wish but wishes are horses even on a Sunday. Shortly after breakfast, I received a text from my sister saying that our father does not appear to have had a shingles vaccine. He has pain around his belly where he’s been scratching. His blood pressure is 200/100. Do I have time to help her take him to the mediclinic?

So off we went to the mediclinic – again. It’s been like that for us this past year. We are frequent flyers with our father since our mother’s passing. The good thing is that we don’t have to wait long since he’s over 90. We get in right away. He does have shingles even though he did get the vaccine in 2020. His blood pressure was down in the clinic. It was a quick trip. We were in and out with a prescription for antivirals and ointment for a few red spots and scratches on the side of his belly. The pain was not too bad, my father says. It felt like ants gnawing. I’m praying it will pass quickly and uneventfully.

We are fortunate to have our parents for so long, losing mom just last year. There’s a price. Their health fragile in these late years, requiring many medical appointments. It seems so difficult to have long periods of peace nowadays. I do hate when the phone rings. I’ve reconciled myself to that’s what life is now. Accept and proceed day by day and do the best I can. I can do that.

Full Catastrophe Living

I’m scratching my head to remember another catastrophe to write about. Life has been fairly calm the last few years. I’m hard pressed to come up with another episode. The distance of old memory takes the bite out the catastrophes of younger years. For instance, the fact that my father tossed my 2 year old butt out on the doorstep in a fit of bad mood does not bring tears to my eyes. I do not have any recollection of it except the ‘aunties’ often loved to tell that story. They also loved telling me that I inherited his temper. Because of that and my scarred arm, I would have trouble finding a husband.

The husband part is true but I’m not sure about the reasons. Those repeated stories could have traumatized me. Who knows, eh? Maybe I have been damaged. But I’m not going that route. I don’t like the blame game. I have felt the blame for everything and everybody for many years. I don’t wish that on anyone. I’ve felt responsibility for everything that’s gone wrong. Really, I’ve realized that I’m not that powerful. Slowly I’ve let that go. Life is full of good, bad, joy, sorrow, successes, tragedies and catastrophes. It’s not all on me. That’s how a full life is. I’ve learned to embrace it all.

AM I HAVING FUN YET

January 18. The Ultimate Blog Challenge.

Another day enclosed in the grey. I tried dipping my toes into my fun list this afternoon. I didn’t have any nail polish on hand. Otherwise, I might have had some fun. I used to have a couple of bottles laying around forever and a day. I could have used them today. So I had throwaway regrets. Next, I tried origami. I have a kit I bought when I was in Japan a million years ago. The instructions were diagrams without words. It was a bit complicated. Maybe I should have started on page 4 instead of 22. As a result, my tulip is a little too top heavy.

Next, I played a little piano. I was not engaging so I gave up after 20 minutes. It’s really no fun when I’m feeling so blasè. I had been reading Babel and it was interesting but in my mood, a dark fantasy about colonalism would make my mood darker. I thought about resorting to John Grisham’s The Client, but I got onto YouTube and found this. I was engaged, caught up in the music and movement of this couple ice skating.

It wasn’t really what you would call fun but I was at least distracted from my grey feelings for a few minutes. Perhaps I should not try so hard running away from these feelings/days. Just accept and ride/ease them through without a fight/struggle. Perhaps there’s a purpose for them.

ADVICE TO MY 16 YEAR OLD SELF

Day 28 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. The end is near and what is it that I’ve learned from this challenge?

  • that I still love words and pictures and the things they tell me
  • that I still tell some stories over and over and that I need to tell myself new ones
  • that I am fulfilling my goal of having this writing space – tracing and understanding the archeology of my time on earth.

I don’t know why that it is that I hold on to the negative narratives more than the positives. Why it is that I admire others so much and think so little of myself? Does not having a physical father present in my early years make a difference? And how about being a minority from age 6 to adulthood? I have had a double sense of being invisible and very visible at the same time. I have had the sense of being very small and standing out like a huge sore thumb. I’m using the past tense – have had – because I don’t feel like that anymore. But I am sure that child/young adult still resides in me.

It’s really too late to change my history, my paths through time. But it is not too late to accept and take comfort in that I did the best I could. I can accept that maybe it is the rites of passage. I don’t have to cast blame in any direction, inward or outward. If I could go back in time, I would tell my 16 year old self that being imperfect is part of the human journey. We can’t grow from a perfect end place. Don’t worry too much about making a wrong decision. Life is not black and white. It’s not about right and wrong. Some things/decisions are better than others. Wisdom is learning to make detours and corrections as we go along. Most of all, I would tell my 16 year old self to love herself unconditionally, to think more of herself and less of others. Let go of things that doesn’t serve her. Time and energy are finite.

LIFE CAN GET BETTER THAN THIS

Someone once said, Life doesn’t get any better than this. Now, in this very minute, I’m saying it, too. It’s summer time and the living is easy. I’m sitting in front of the herb spiral, sipping tea, eating cherries and tapping on the keyboard. Soon the sun will chase me into another shady spot. Let me see if I can set up my old patio umbrella. It’s been mostly sitting in the garage gathering dust all these years. I’ve only used it to give Sheba some shade in her dog run when she was a puppy, the run she’s hardly used. It’s been converted into the guy’s bicycle shed long since.

It didn’t take long to find the umbrella and the base. Took a bit of sweat to set up. I filled the base with water to give it some weight. It didn’t work. It needed to be in the center of a table to prevent it from tipping over. My table does not have a hole anywhere. What and how to do? I lugged the set up behind the bench. It tipped and leaned against the bench. Perfect! Except I didn’t expect it to tip sideways. Good thing I wasn’t sitting underneath it at the time. So much for my effort. Just dust and sweat but nothing ventured, nothing gained. I will have to wait till the sailor gets home to figure something out.

I’m chased indoors. The sun kept playing peekaboo. It was too exasperating.


Afternoons are not my best. Everything goes south. I am tired and disorganized. It’s when the cluttering happens. I’m incapable of putting things away. I throw and toss things in where they fit. I pay for it eventually – like last evening. The ice cream was calling me earlier than usual. A good thing because the fridge freezer was covered in hoar frost. I had my ice cream first before I could tackle the icy mess. It had occurred to me that I could be creating disaster for myself by my mindless tossing things in, cramming when necessary.

No harm done except loss of time and energy. I have learned from it. Mornings are my best times when my mind is more quiet and I can think clearer. Best to use it to plan, prioritize and make lists of what and when to do them. So today is the first day of the rest of my life. It’s morning again. I’m sitting in the morning shade, in front of my little monk again. There’s a lovely breeze blowing. There’s children’s laughter from the daycare. There’s the sound of traffic.

Things almost feel normal again but would I want that normal back? I don’t think so, even if it is possible. I’m learning to be peaceful with things as they evolve and as they are. Though I still shed tears over Sheba, I am at peace with her passing. I am comfortable with her physical absence. She is with me in my heart. As for the woman next door, I am learning to disengage from her energy. She has a disorder, I don’t. It isn’t about me.

So ends another post for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I haven’t shown up every day though I try. I try not to be rigid and fixated on being perfect. That’s something I learned from the woman next door – her fixation on a weedless yard and perfectly clean driveway. Yesterday she was out with her leaf blower, blowing whatever she has on her driveway, sidewalk and even the sidewalk of the next house. There were some workmen tearing down the old siding. She even blew under their truck parked on their driveway. What I felt was sadness for her.

IN THE DESERT AGAIN

I’m not God and I don’t have the whole wide world in my hands. I’m not and I don’t but I wouldn’t mind if I am and I do. It’s wishful thinking but what if wishes do come true? I’m feeling helpless and useless at the moment. I’m at the wall with nowhere to move. I can only take a deep breath and heave a heavy sigh for relief. This is real life.

So I am here, to lay some of my anguish on the page, the anguish of acceptance. I am not God. I do not have control of everything. I suppose this is the first part of the meditation practice called R.A.I.N. It stands for recognize, allow, investigate, and nurture.

Recognize what is happening;
Allow the experience to be there, just as it is;
Investigate with interest and care;
Nurture with self-compassion.

I’ve learned the first step of recognizing what is happening. But allowing the experience to be there, just as it is, is not so easy. I want to fix it with the first inkling of discomfort it brings. I can see myself getting into my Supergirl/Wonder Woman suit, all hyped up to the rescue and change the situation. There’s an urgency in me. I feel there’s no time to investigate with interest and care. I tend to berate myself rather than nuture.  I recognize what is happening in me. I want to change.

I am here, tapping out what I recognize and know. It’s been exhausting hosting all the thoughts and emotions inside my body. They’ve been in the wash cycle too many days , agitating and agitating. Now it’s time for the rinse to kick in and the dirt to drain out. I will hang on to the good stuff. I’m not God but I wouldn’t mind if he gives me a hand, light my path and point the way. It’s difficult navigating in the dark.

I haven’t been out in the desert for awhile now. I have missed my time there. I miss the emptiness, the silence and the arid air. I miss the seemingly endless time and the peace to heal body and soul. Most of all, I miss the conversations with God. His presence was all around me there. My heart was opened to accept and receive. Somehow every day life happend and it closed up shop. I have been sleeping on the job. I’m awake now and in the desert. I hope he will show me some wisdom and compassion.

BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL

It is another sleepless night. Somehow I knew it was too easy. It’s only a little over a week since Sheba’s developed her ear hematoma. Two trips to the dog ER to get it drained 21 cc and 11 cc respectively. A followup 2-3 days later resulted in 5 cc drained. All of this has been very draining for all us, humans and canine. Sheba already had a bit of sundowning just before all this happened. Since, the nights have been worse. So the vet suggested a short course of trazodone. It would chill and help her recovery from her ear traumas. It all sounded wonderful but wasn’t. The first day, the trazodone knocked her out. Her legs didn’t really work well. When she was awake, she would pace like a stoned dog. So I decreased her dose a little. Whereas she was restless only at night, she became restless day and night. Our nerves were raw from her ceaseless pacing and banging into things with her head cone.

If something doesn’t work, why keep doing it? After 4 days on the trazodone, I stopped it. Sheba slowly became more her old self during the day. She would lay down on her pillows by herself. Hope was on the horizon. We leased her to the piano leg at night so she could not pace and bang around. We need some sleep. It worked last night. We all slept in till 8 in the morning. Hallelujah, right?

Today’s or rather yesterday’s vet checkup showed that she does have an ear infection. A good reason to rejoice. There was a cause , therefore an end to all this misery we’re going through. We were jubilant and came home armed with earwash, antibiotic eardrops and oral antibiotics. Earlier in the day my order of melatonin for Sheba and some for me came. I dosed us each with 3 mg. All was well. Sheba settled and relaxed on her pillow. Then it was bedtime. I took Sheba out for her business.

The disappointment was keen. But at least I had 2 hours of sleep when I woke and heard her panting. Perhaps I should have ignored her but I was never good at it. She gets more stressed and worked up. Then she starts barking. Yes, she is a smart dog. She knows how to get attention. But she is 13 and has an infection. Human elders with infection do the same. So here I am, sitting on the stool beside her. I’m tap, tapping away, hoping for a better day. It is almost 4 am. She is at least relaxed and laying down.

Things feel very difficult at times but they are getting better. Her ear has stopped bleeding. Surgery is not needed. The underlying cause has been discovered. Treatment has started. Nothing is easy nor simple. Hope her night time anxiety and restless with improve with melatonin increased omega 3’s. I am doing fairly well with all this. When I accept what is, I am less stressed and more at peace with it. This is what we have to do. One day at a time. Sheba deserves the best from me. She has and still is giving me much joy.

 

HICCOUGHS

I have to tell you, I’m having more than a few hiccoughs in 2019 and it’s only April. There’s 8 more months to go but who is counting? I’ve been here many times before. I’ve learned it’s best to accept the hiccoughs instead of fighting them. It takes some effort each time. I’m accepting that, too, because that’s how I am. It’s like doing the backstroke in a rocky swimming pool. There’s no smooth gliding. I’m tossed about. I’m not a good swimmer and I start panicking when water floods my face and up my nose. I have to rein myself in from  thrashing wildly about, gain control and float through the waves.

I’m doing just that through this recent hiccough. Who knows what poked the tip of the iceberg. Do I still have hormones? Then there’s the weather, the clouds, winds, dip or rise of temperature along with the atmospheric pressure. Whatever. It does not matter. I’m out of balance, my mood can change on a dime, I can’t sleep, things don’t get done. It feels like weeks long but it is only a couple of days. Life feels like a wreck. I feel like a wreck.

I sound like a wreck, too, but I’ve changed a thing or two. I can almost stop my thoughts and feelings on a dime. I said almost. Now whenever those bad thoughts and feelings come up, I see a stop sign coming at me. I feel that hand pushing me back. STOP! And I do for a minute or two. Huh! I have to roll that around my mind and decide what is best to think, feel and speak. Sometimes the best course of action is no action and no words.

Well, I do hope I can sleep a little better tonight. Maybe I can practice doing the backstroke in my mind to send me off into dreamland. But what will be, will be. The future is not ours to see. Que sera, sera.