Tag Archives: mental-health

Slow Living

Posted on by
2

It is March 8th. It rained this morning. It is day 15 of #the100dayproject. I have been working a little on it each day. My cold is still hampering me. I can’t go great guns with anything. However, I am happier with this slower pace of living and sewing. I am enjoying the process more. I have 5 completed logcabin blocks and 2 partial ones. I continued to be my usual disorganized self, not having my fabrics sorted to darks and lights. I don’t have all the strips cut either. I am in continuous state of search for the best strip.

It is a grey dismal day.This world is going nowheres fast except maybe to war. I am astounded by this world we’re in, aren’t you? I feel as if we are in a fake reality show. The only trouble is, it is not fake. It is not a bad idea to stick my head in the sand, ignore all this madness and do the things that nourishes me. Wake me when it is all over.

I had coffee with my 94 year old father this afternoon. We talked about the times from way back. He still has a good memory. The very first house we lived in was behind the cafe. It was owned by the town doctor. The rent was $7/month. It had 2 rooms. The linoleum was peeling. The next house was by the highway, across from the railway station. It was owned by grain elevator company. The rent was $20/month.It was bigger but not really better. My foot went through the floor board in a bedroom.

It was good to have memories to share. We hadn’t shared or conversed much before. We had a laugh over the rent. Who would have thought I could do this with my father?

Antidotes For What Ails Me

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

My cold is still with me. It is attached and reluctant to leave. I am an endless fountain of gooey mucus. Like Christopher Plummer, I don’t like the sound of mucus. I’m carting around a large toilt roll from Costco. I’m constantly blowing and spitting into toilet paper. The roll diminishes quickly. It’s cheaper than Kleenx. I dislike using a spittoon. It grosses me out.

I’ve had a week of this misery. Just when I think I’m getting better, I get knocked down again. Last night was a hard one. I was afraid I was getting super ill, enough that it made me seek help from my prayer community. It helped. I was able to fall asleep shortly after. In the morning I felt better in some ways and worse in some. Now, at the end of the day, I can see light at the end of the tunnel. Being sick could have been what I needed.

What I needed was to see I have to take care of me. Being a caretaker by nature, I tend to look outward to others’ needs. I seldom think of my own. I am doing that now. I see that endless scrolling is making me sick. I feel it but seem unable to stop. The more I touch that button, the more I want to even though it brings me no pleasure. I was pleasureless enough yesterday that I was able to curb my addiction. I limited my scrolling time to before breakfast. I sought out other activities that would bring me pleasure.

One antidote is reading Margaret Atwood’s biography Book of Lives: A Memoir of Sorts. I’m travelling through stories of her childhood now. They’re delightful. Just what I need. Another activity is non-activity. I laid down on my exercise mat with my legs resting on an armchair for 10 minutes, doing nothing, trying to empty my mind. It wasn’t hard. It was pleasant and restful, not fussing about anything, letting the world go on by without me. It also helped to drain gooey mucus out of me.

Working on Joy and Hope

Posted on by
Reply

It’s March 1, a new month and a new day, so they say. I woke up to the same world, full of bad news of Donald Trump and bombing in the Middle East. No overnight transformation of world peace and love. Whatever happened to the age of Aquarius? Where is the humanitarism and collective consciousness? Where has our conscience gone?

As you can see, I still am sick of this world. I am still a bit sick with my cold. It could be affecting my outlook. It doesn’t help that my iMac is not performing at its best. I am still working on improving my mood, trying to find some positivity and joy. I don’t want to add my negativity to the already existing toxic pool. This morning I found 2 inspiring stories. I should say they found me. I had not known or heard of these individuals before.

The first one was Margaret Anne Cargill. She was an heir to millions. Yet she lived a simple life and donated everything to charities anonymously. The 2nd person was Hamzah Jihad Furquani. He made 13 cents an hour as a prison janitor. He donated $17.74 of his earnings to relief efforts in Gaza. Their backgrounds were totally different but their hearts were the same, big and generous. Their stories are fascinating reads for me. They are real and not fake news. It gives me hope and inspiration in these dark times. I try a little harder to find and feel joy. I try a little harder to have a good day. The world is still full of good people. But we still need to acknowledge the evil, too.

I’m 8 days into the #100dayproject of sewing logcabin quilt blocks. My pace is slower, making a ½ block a day. The slower pace is more enjoyable. Here’s square #3 and #4.

Chinese New Year

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

It’s another new day and year. It is the year of the Fire Horse, which symbolises independence, ambition, and energy. So I might get out of Dodge after all. I didn’t have too much traction yesterday. I still haven’t seeded my onions and peppers. No qigong yet. I’m still ruminating about the past. This morning I was remembering telling someone at work that her husband looked like Lee Marvin, the movie star. I thought it was a compliment but she yelled at me. “Lily, you are just so rude!” That scared the hell out of me. I worried about my lack of judgement and social etiquette. I avoided her like the plague after.

I ruminate about my personality and character alot. I worried about how I measure up to others. Am I ok? Am I selfish, unforgiving, blah, blah, blah. The Epstein File deluge helped me see that we are all very strange creatures, flawed and lacking in so many and different ways. Some of us are very sick. None of us can judge. This makes me feel a whole lot better. It’s probably not the right thing to say. Who cares? I’ve been accused of saying things that people would only think. I think the people saying that to my face are guilty of the same, don’t you think? You can see that I am still ruminating and hurting. Words have a long history.

But this is a new day/new year. Yesterday, I have thrown out 3 things (obsolete keys), vacuumed the whole upstairs floors and did some light dusting. I felt cleaner and less cluttered. I had coffee at my father’s house in the afternoon. We decided we didn’t have to ‘celebrate’ with dim sum or supper out. I breathed a sigh of relief. I don’t have anything against ‘celebrations’ and making a big deal about everything. But I do protest against feeling obligated to do so because that is what everybody does. Sometimes it is nice just take off my shoes, let down my hair and relax with a sandwich, pizza, bowl of soup or whatever. I feel celebratory sitting with just a cup of hot tea.

It’s taken me this long to figure this out. I don’t have to do like everybody. It’s ok to be different. I am ok. It makes me happy. Gong hei fat choy” (恭喜发财)!

On Sadness

Posted on by
Reply

I’m feeling incredibly sad in the moment. I am going to sink into it and use it for a rest. I am not going to berate myself for not being a better person and rise above it. True, it is a beautiful day. The sun is shining and the temperature is way above normal for February. I can appreciate all that. At the same time, I know what it tells us about climate change and global warming. It depresses me to no end that some people still think that it is a hoax while I feel our world is ending.

I know, I know, I am way too glum and serious. I acknowledge that but some people are way too glib. I am also a bit under the weather because of all the melting snow. Whether it is too early or not for snow molds, I’ve been experiencing watery eyes, runny nose and fits of dry harsh coughing. I’ve been worried about getting sick like the previous year. I’ve been crossing my fingers and toes. So far, so good. I’m over the worse of it and recovering. Sad as I am, I can still appreciate life and this morning’s beautiful sunrise.

Did I tell you that change is hard? If I hadn’t, I am telling you now. It is very hard and uncomfortable. But it is a whole lot better for me to consciously change than to leave the change to everything and everyone around me. I want to be the director and the captain of my ship. I take responsibility and can’t blame anyone except myself.

I have never found it much help talking to another about feelings. Most people, instead of just listening and accepting, tend to want to explain and fix. It doesn’t work for me because it makes me feel unheard, that there’s something wrong with my feelings. Therefore it makes me feel worse. However, now that I’ve wrestled with and discovered how it makes me feel, I’m feeling better. I am not as sad. There’s light at the end of the keyboard.

Having Faith

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

February 8th. Cloudy, 0℃, freezing rain warning and snow forecasted. For far, so good. No rain nor snow. I’m still recovering from my cold or whatever I’m afflicted with. My cough is less and looser. So my self ministering works. I’ve been drinking almost nonstop for a couple of days – tea, decaf, herbal tea, hot water. So much sometimes I don’t quite make it to the bathroom in time. Then there’s the tylenol and neti pot saline rinses. I tried to stop this cold but even when I felt it coming, I couldn’t stop it. It had to have its day. It was like trying to stop a charging bull, a speeding train or a tsumani. Though I couldn’t stop it, I’ve lessened the impact.

Now that I have the momentum, I’m still tapping on the keyboard. It keeps me sane. It’s enough reason to keep going. I feel like I have someone to talk to, someone who understands, doesn’t judge and doesn’t talk back. There’s nothing that could make me feel worse than someone trying to make me see sense, see ‘the other side’. It’s something that I need to do for myself. What I need is to have the faith, trust in my feelings and intuition, lay low, stay quiet and let things be.

Though technically we are connected 24/7, I don’t feel we are connected emotionally at all. There’s this distance and emptiness. It’s difficult to have the faith. I’m working on it. I’m lonely without it. I miss my mother. I miss how things used to be. I can’t understand anything any more. Perhaps I shouldn’t try so hard to understand but it is surprising to find Dr. Phil showing up at ICE Raids. And why all the fury on immigrants? Aren’t we all immigrants here in North America except for the aboriginals? Aren’t we all human inhabitants of the planet? Doesn’t it belong to all of us?

Why are we killing each other? It’s making me furious. I feel like we’re experiencing a global autoimmune disorder. We are attacking each other. We are each other’s enemy. For this, I need to find and keep the faith that we can do better. I am tired. I need to just shut up and believe and be strong.

Mad as a Hatter

Posted on by
3

I’m still mad as hell, breathing fire and brimstone, that the world is not according to how I would like it. I feel like bashing my head on the desk. Who do I think I am anyways that I could put in such an order? When has anybody listened and heard me? Perhaps that’s what infuriates me the most, my insignificance and helplessness.

There! I’ve said it outloud. I’m feeling better. It’s like getting a bit of oxygen when you’re gasping for air. I’m feeling like Alice, falling down the rabbit hole. Sometimes I feel like I’m going mad. Wonderland would be a good place to be in for a mind break. I could have tea with the Mad Hatter, March Hare and Door Mouse and talk nonsense.

I really enjoy these wonderful lines.

From Alice.

  • “I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” 
  • “What is the use of a book,’ thought Alice, ‘without pictures or conversations?” 
  • “I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.” 
  • “Curiouser and curiouser!” 

From the Mad Hatter & March Hare:

  • “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” 
  • “If you knew Time as well as I do… you wouldn’t talk about wasting it.” 
  • “Begin at the beginning,’ the King said, very gravely, ‘and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” 
  • “You used to be much more… muchier. You’ve lost your muchness.” 

From the Cheshire Cat:

  • “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” 
  • “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.” 
  • “If you don’t know where you are going, any road can take you there.” 
  • “You may have noticed, I’m not all there myself.” 

I haven’t been all there or here lately myself. But I think I’ve chased the madness out of me. I’m feeling much, much better now. What a relief, eh!

Much About Nothing

Posted on by
3

A cloudy cool Saturday morning. I’ve been doing what I do the best, ruminating, accomplishing nothing. I seemed to have lost my words or else I’ve fallen out of love with them. How does one fall in love again? Life seems to have gone to hell in a handbasket. I am perhaps being overly dramatic and morose. So how does one get out of it? How can I fall in love with life and my words again?

I look out window at the grey drab January landscape. The only bright spot is the pink garage door. I am still surrounded by my paper clutter. At least I’ve taken care to comb and put up my hair. I drew in some eyebrows and put in some earrings. I’m not looking like hell. I’m wearing something bright, a blue mohair sweater knitted long ago. I feel a tug of desire to pick up my knitting needles again. They are sitting in a basket next to my chair. There’s also a pattern book of 6 patterns. The book cost $2.50 so you can guess how old it is.

My thoughts go round and round. I wonder what life is and how did I get here. It’s been a slippery slope since my mother passed. Her presence made me feel safe. There was order and purpose. She was our glue and our traffic director. Nobody seems to want the job she vacated. But one cannot just let everything fall apart. And so I try. Not doing great but at least I’ve picked up the reins. I couldn’t very well just say, ho hum and that was it. Well, I could but what would happen if we all did that?

So, I am trying again on the keyboard. I am trying to find the words to inspire and whisk me out of the hell handbasket. Something is better than nothing. Silence can be deadening as I well know. I might as well raise some hell. There’s still a few days left in January Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’ve made a beginning. There’s a bit of a middle. I need to finish what I’ve started. And that’s all there is to it.

On Idleness and Nothingness

Posted on by
Reply

I am seldom idle with nothing to do even though I feel as if I’m languishing my life away. All our technology today does not allow me a moment of nothingness. But ask me what I have accomplish in any given moment. I cannot tell you. I feel as if my attention has been kidnapped. I am held captive, pushing buttons on the phone, tapping the keyboard search of news, stories, blah, blah, blah. All the things that matters squat. I know that. Yet it is hard to stop.

It has been especially bad this past year. Having lost my mother, it is natural that I am interested in other people’s similar situations. Pretty soon there’s alot of posts in my feed from people losing their mothers. Grieving and suffering, I am naturally drawn to stories and articles on that and how people overcome their issues. So by now I have been saturated with so many stories of loss and suffering. I didn’t know there was so many weird and awful diseases, congenital defects, accidents. How is it possible to live? It is no wonder I am not a happy camper.

I remember a time when I did not have a computer or an iPhone. Now I am an owner of an iMac, iPhone, iPad and a macbook. How many macs do I really need? Back in the days, I did no googling in search of things of no importance. I ate my breakfast leisurely, listening to CBC radio. CBC was news worthy and had interesting and educational programs. The library held many books to answer my questions on gardening, cooking, sewing, the arts. It was adequate. My brain was not flooded and short circuited by a million and one trivialities like it is today.

Recovering my brain and life is what I hope for this coming year. I hear that improvements in our lives do not happen on their own. Drat! It means I have to do the work. So where to start? What pops up in my mind is mindfulness, going back to morning idleness and nothingness. It is the thing that have saved me over and over again. It should be easy to do nothing again, right?

What Bugs Me

Posted on by
Reply

So Christmas is over. There’s so much pressure to be happy, joyous and celebratory. I’m none of those and I feel guilty that I am not. There’s no law and there’s nobody wagging their finger at me. Perhaps that’s what bugs me the most, my self criticism. It is only right that we put on a happy face and wish each other Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. There’s no need to Bah, Humbug! It would be a sad world if everyone feel like me. Yet that’s how I feel. The thing is perhaps pretend and not to let it show. There is no gain in spoiling it for others.

I’m wallowing in my own misery. There’s no reason to not to feel and acknowledge what is inside of me. I like to think of it as self-care. No one else can truly know how I feel. I’m having a difficult time moving forward but I am putting one foot in front of the other every day. I am making progress though ever so slow. We’ve started the second year without my mother. Who knows how or how long a death affects a person. But it has changed me and my world. How, I am unable to articulate at this time. Perhaps it’s something to write about in January.

What bugs me is that I’m stuck in this space and time, wallowing. I used to look forward to the morning at bedtime. I couldn’t wait to start the day. Now, though I’m not dreading the day or anything, I like to lull in bed, wrapped in the warmth of the comforter and the darkness of the morning even though I am awake. When I do get up, I am surprised but not dismayed that it’s so late. I am bugged but I guess not bugged enough. I feel weighed down by some unknown force. Tomorrow is another day and next week it will be a new year. Hope on the horizon.