I can do it

MOOD SWINGS

Day 22 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. 8 more days. I can do it. It has become a habit again. These days my mood can turn on a dime. It’s better to pound on the keyboard than on someone. Not that anyone has given me any reason, but you know how it is. It is the question of which comes first – the chicken or the egg. In the case of moods, is it the mood or is it the stimulus. You are on the edge. Then along comes the straw that broke the camel’s back. Kapow!**

I’ve been wary and vigilant though. In these moments I try to keep calm and not behave like my usual old self. I try to use the not-so-good vibes toward decluttering and cleaning. It’s a good tool and choice of activity for me. It’s what our mothers used to do to de-stress. It’s what I used to do, too, but somehow have lost the habit. Cleanliness no longer was next to godliness. They both got tossed aside for sometimes meaningless scrolling through social media and the Internet. Regardless of how I got here, I’m turning back to more hands-on living.

It’s not easy to change back, let me tell you. In the middle of my cleaning this morning, I got more depressed and wasted. There’s so much clutter and so much dust. I felt pale and drained just thinking about it and seeing what laid before me. I had to console myself. I tell myself that if I just sort out one small box, it will be enough. That did the trick. I dug in, cleared some dust and a box. What I learn today is:

  • baskets and boxes are hazards for hanging onto things forever.
  • I have trouble throwing out pens.
  • I can clean and declutter faster than I think I can.
  • cleaning and decluttering can be enjoyable.
  • I can control which way I swing.
  • I can be a clear bug as well as a cluttered one.

I shall dedicate the rest of the month to doing more cleaning and clearing daily. 8 days are do-able. Then I shall set a new schedule. Baby steps doesn’t work for me. And I hate that phrase. Not enough time left for baby steps. I have to take giant leaps forward. Onward ho!

CHANGE MY THOUGHTS, CHANGE MY LIFE

I’m late coming to the keyboard. It’s an exercise day. Sometimes it feels like going to work because it is a must commitment. Today we had Fred instead of our regular instructor. He is always a welcomed and good change, introducing us to a different workout. His warmup focuses on the four joints at the shoulders and hips. It is surprising and amazing how good it feels after. They didn’t seem like such deal deal exercises.

It reminds me to change my train of thoughts. No big deals can bring big results. Change your thoughts, change your life. I think I have that book by Dr. Wayne Dyer. I haven’t read it but I will now. I will get it up from the basement so I won’t forget. I can read a few pages a day. I’m the train that can, remember?

I know I’ve got quite a few things on my plate now. I’m not sweating it. I’m mindfully trying not to rush or multi task. I’m trying not to have catastrophic thoughts of can’t do, no time, etc. I’m doing one thing at a time, putting one foot in front of the other. I think, there is time. I can do it.

I’m moving through my day. Sat with Mark Williams on YouTube for 20 minutes of sitting meditation in the morning. Then I spent 10 minutes free writing for Write Your Journey before heading off to my exercise class. Sheba and I made 2 rounds at the dog park this afternoon. In between things I managed to make 3 jars of kimchi. And now I’m rounding up this post for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It’s not Pulitzer writing but it’s a serious effort to stay on track.

F IS FOR FED UP

Do you get fed up sometimes? Today I feel at the maximum fed up level. February is l-o-n-g. I had set out at the start with such heart felt hope. This was suppose to be my feel good month. Not that anything is wrong or that I’ve been plagued with a truckload of disasters. None of that. I just feel such malaise even though the sky is blue and the sun is shining. I need another cup of decaf.

Perhaps it is because of my recent sinusitis of the past week and a half. Not that it was such a struggle. It was a tad tougher than my usual state for I am forever complaining a lack of energy, of joie de vivre. I’m fed up with being a wet blanket, a party pooper and being my worse enemy. It’s good to let it all out. This is my space, my confessional. It is where I come to cleanse my mind and soul.

It doesn’t help that my sleep is disturbed lately. I had nightmares a couple of nights back. I screamed and screamed in my sleep. I thought it was only in my dreams. I was stuck in an elevator with unsavory man. I was scared to death. In my dream, I had trouble getting my screams out. It wasn’t so in real life. I woke the guy and Sheba as well. Then last night, I had trouble getting to sleep. I got up and read awhile. Luckily that helped. I slept and dreamt as well. Lucky it was not a nightmare. I dreamt about little cupcakes. The cost was $15 for 15. I guess the cost is nightmarish. I wonder if it was those little unsavory Italian meatballs that triggered the dream.

It really helps to tap out my feelings, whatever they are. I was seeing the world through bleak eyes. I couldn’t see the point of anything. The world is gone to hell in a hand basket:

  • The war in Syria. Seeing the dead babies on the evening news.
  • The school shooting in Florida. Hearing a politician saying the teachers need to have guns when the students were crying for gun control

These are the two weighing heavily on top of all the others right now. What can be done to make the world and humans better? Being fed up is not the answer I know. Now the question is how do I get out of it? I bet Oprah would say, Live your best life. A good answer, I’m sure but it won’t do for me. It’s too generalized, too neat. I have to chip, tap and hack my way out bit by bit.

I’m a fan of Sue Grafton. You’ve probably deduced it by the title of this blog. Her detective series is just what I need on my not so buoyant days. Janet  Evanovich is in the same genre. I’m glad it’s women that help me get through the tough days. Their energy, humour and narrative story telling take me away from the moody blues into adventure and laughs. I have to love that.

So another day comes to an end. I’ve limped through it but I’m still standing. I’ve gotten up, dressed up and shown up. I had to work a little harder at it. It was my Olympic effort, not a Gold Medal but nothing wrong with a Bronze. My mantra was I can do this. I can do this. So it went. Now I have a few more trays seeded – 3 kinds of tomatoes and geraniums. The petunias and chili peppers have germinated. Things do look hopeful. The effort is worth it.

When I have a Sheba, I have to make an effort. She wears my moods so I had to show her that I was okay. Nothing to worry about. She is safe and cared for. She is her confident and happy self again.

 

 

THERE ARE NO WONDERS

Something wonderful happens when I eat a chocolate chip cookie. I double the pleasure when I have two. My grumpiness melts. That headache fades. Sheba crowds near, hoping for an oops and a few crumbs. I give her a few little frozen carrots. She is happy and gets to clean her teeth on them. Now she gives a grunt of satisfaction. We’re both down for the count. She’s on the floor. I’m on the chair, tap, tap, tapping some insight and wisdom – I hope.

I know that I will pay for my chocolate frenzy this week. I know/have my boundaries. I can’t keep eating them every day. Maybe we will walk a little faster and further today. It is +3C right now. There is no point in wondering what’s wrong with me and the weather. Don’t waste time asking the unanswerable questions. This is how it is. Get on with it. I am – getting on with it. There is POWER in the getting on. There is movement and results. When you just wonder and wonder, all you get is a headache.

Let me tell you the story of my wonders. I could never accept things/people/situations as they are. I wonder WHY, THEY MUST, THERE MUST BE. I always want to find explanations for everything, everybody. I am never ready to face the truth of what is before me. There MUST be another reason, another time, another chance. It WILL be different….. It’s no wonder I’m where I am, eh?

I have to give up on that wonder lust and wander as on foot. Sheba and I have wandered far on our walk. It is a balmy +6C degrees. We took our time, sniffing the dead exposed grass, rolling on the icy backalley. All the quirks worked out. Paws wiped clean, Sheba goes into the house. Meanwhile, I tend to the messy business in the backyard. You guess it, Sheba’s poop. I could very well have turned a blind eye and not see. Somehow, those things can’t be ignored. They are there in the head without eyes.

I take it as a measure of my mental health that I CAN do it. I WILL HAVE to do it at some point in time. Why not now? If the need and the idea arises, why not do it now, if possible? I bend to the task. It is not difficult. One, two, another one…into the bag. It CAN be hard. It’s not glamourous. There is no skill requirement. I will not receive any accolades from anyone but myself and maybe other depressives. We know how difficult such tasks can be in our moods. I hear their applause in the recess of my mind. I take a bow. Thank you! Thank you! Much appreciated. The yard is looking better. I didn’t get it all but it was a full Superstore bagful.

What next? A cup of tea, of course. My life is measured by cupfuls. Not a bad measurement. My cup is always full. I do count my blessings. Mostly to myself though and here. I try to keep my stuff contained. It’s good to have boundaries. No need to broadcast. Hear ye! Hear ye! That’s is not me. It’s good have a safe space. I hope you have one. It’s not that I’m secretive. I’m discreet but I do share. Do you?