LIFE WITH ROCKS AND EDGES

It’s been a little while since we’ve talked.  It feels like forever.  I worry that I might not find my voice again.

Life is hard.  That is how M. Scott Peck started his book The Road Less Travelled.  It is true.  Life indeed is very hard.  Though I have vowed not to use words like ‘hard’, ‘overwhelmed’ and such, I have succumbed and failed yet again.  I have found everything so hard and I have been overwhelmed by all of life.

I have given up on the National Novel Month in November before it started and without even a whimper.  I have not written anything for a week or more, not even 100 words for Friday Fictioneers.  My imagination seems to have vanished along with my drive and stick- with-it attitude.  What can one do?

When the going gets tough and the wind is against you, it’s hard climbing that mountain.  You slip and slide and tumble down the mountain side.  You get up and fall again a few more times.  You get tire.  You throw in the towel. The hell with it!  I’m going to rest.  After all, isn’t there a song about these are the best years of my life?  I can cry quit if I want to. can’t I?

This is where I am.  I’ve finally caught my breath.  It’s been a tough grind.  I am wondering what happened to the HAPPY RETIREMENT adventures, dreams, free to do as you please, etc. etc.  I’ve just been through 3 days without running water – water main break.  I know, small thing.  Half the world probably still doesn’t have flushing water and taps on demand. But if you have it and they take that away, 3 days is a long time.  So I’m a cry baby.  Shoot me.

I really don’t like complaining, but I’ve been sick for over 2 weeks since coming home from France.  Now I’m really whining.  Why not?  Might as well give it good go.  Though I’m much better, I’m still coughing up my stomach occasionally.  It gets to you after a while.

To top it off, my financial planner put all my RRSPs into a RRIF without a meeting, without talking to me and without my signature.  How is that possible?  How scary is that? Then she tells me she shouldn’t have done it, but I have to sign.  I said, no thank you.  I will not!  So many frigging times, I have been told someone pushed the wrong button. Oops but I can’t get it back.  Bullshit!

That is correct.  Buttons can be unpushed.  Mistakes can be corrected.  Don’t let people bull doze you.  There are laws and regulations.  Stand firm. Believe in yourself.  Push back. Be polite and respectful though.  There’s no need to cuss.  Do so when you are alone.

 

 

NOT ALL DAYS ARE EQUAL

Some days are hard.  Life is hard.  Sometimes it takes a week before I can take the towels out of the dryer.  The words don’t come. When they do, they are dryer than dry.

IMG_0993The sun came out today.  I thought that would make me happy but it only made my glumness take hold.  It was thick.  It made it difficult to keep my eyes opened. My legs felt like cement pillars.  But I did try to run with Sheba this morning.

It was not a total success.  No surprise there, right?   I wondered at the perfectly manicured green lawns along our route.  Where did people find the energy? Why did they care? They were beautiful, these lush, thick emerald carpets.  Even in my state of mind, I appreciated them.

We entered the park.  The heaviness eased its burden, for how can it not – amidst God’s green acres.  The beauty was too great and it fled, its dark tail between cement legs.  I was freed to enjoy God’s creations, if only for moments.

WonderWomanV5

Wonder Woman. Art by Terry Dodson Wikipedia

No all days are equal.  I know that for sure.  Days like today will come again and I will weather it again.  So the towels sit in the dryer for a few days.  No harm done.  My words will play hide and seek with me but they always come back.  I need not be a hero and scale walls of tall buildings.  I am only Wonder Woman and not Spider Man.  I can use these boots and just walk around them. Life continues.