Tag Archives: mental-health

Ups and Downs

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I wonder when the sun will come out again. Will it rain again? Our earth is very dry and thirsty. It’s hard to be hopeful in today’s climate. I envy the toddlers toddling about, laughing and jabbering, impervious to the clouds and the cool. When did we lose this ability? Can we get it back? And how do we go about it, if we can?

I am not holding my breath, waiting for answers. I’m feeling a little stuck again. I don’t want to stay there. I do the dishes. I warm up our lunch. We eat. I do the dishes again. I hang up the laundry. I potted up the snowpeas I’ve germinated for the community garden – all 100 of them. While they continue their germination journey in the potting soil, I will gather my strength and plan how to plant our plot for its best and possible last year there. It’s time to do a little downsizing for our advancing years.

Downsizing is no small thing. It’s a big challenge. When I was young, the house and yard were never too big even though there was only one of me. Now that there are 2 of us, it’s enough. I am older and not craving more of everything. We could do with less. It would mean less space to clean and less space to collect stuff we don’t need. We have what we have in space but we don’t have to keep all the stuff.

Ridding what we don’t need is not an easy thing. It is a slow process for me but I did start today with some of my mother’s stuff. The thing to do is not to handle, examine too much. Bag them up quickly with no hesitation. Otherwise, memories and attachment form. I almost hung on to 2 pairs of mom’s shoes by trying them on. They fit and look almost new. Then I remember I already have too many shoes. I quickly put them back in the box and into the bag with her 2 purses.

It’s another day or what is left of it. I feel as if I’ve lost and squandered most of today. I did not meditate nor journal this morning. Instead I was scrolling through the many shared Jan Arden’s video on Alberta’s want to separate from Canada. The many comments slamming Jan was not good for my spirit. It coloured my day and did not help my already tired body and soul.

I am afraid I was a sad sack though I try not to show or dwell on it. I pushed through it with physical activity. Now I’m trying to be kind to myself. Chocolate cake does help. I remind myself that I am just a human being, flawed and complaining all the while. It’s hard to suffer in silence.

These Moments

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I took a 2 day vacation from the Ultimate Blog Challenge. My income tax return was calling me with urgency. I was not keen but I knew it was best that I gave it my undivided attention. I’m glad that I did. I am now breathing easier. I knew from past experience it was not a terribly hard or lengthy process. Still, I go through these moments annually with it AND often with other issues. These moments of feeling impending boom – from putting off, procrastinating,thinking of the worst possible scenarios.

I haven’t push the review and optimize and send buttons yet. I’m there but I am still procrastinating. At least the feelings of dread are lighter. I’ve gone through piles of papers the last 2 days. I’ve investigated how long I need to keep certain documents and made a pile for shredding. My head feels better, not as fuzzy and befuddled. I saw that I was organized once upon a time. At some point, I dropped the ball. I do not berate myself. Life is hard. These last couple of years have been very hard. I’ve done the best I could. Some things are more important than others. I prioritized.

I’m still experiencing some of these moments. This morning I got lost in scrolling through news of our federal election. I skipped my morning meditation and writing my morning pages. I realize I could lose my whole day scrolling through this and that. It’s a time waster but somehow it is a soother. I used my will power to curb my instinct and looked towards other more useful means of pacifying myself. I got off my butt and washed the dishes by hand. I found the physical act of washing by hand calming and have been doing it for awhile. Next was the dust mop on the kitchen floor and sweeping up the crumbs form our meals.

Now, I am tapping out the last words for the second last day of this challenge. I feel it is important to finish what I had started.

Bit and Pieces

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Here I am again, sitting in sunshine, sipping my tea. I’m tired already, thinking too much on life, death and taxes. I’m working on not letting all that get me down. That’s life as people like to say. Every day babies are born and people die. We know we can’t escape the tax man. I must set a time within the next 6 days to file mine. Everything sits heavy. There’s no escape. Maybe a tylenol might give me some ease.

I don’t want life to drown me. I’m trying to find my way to the shore and get on solid ground. I tell myself feelings aren’t always real. I can still move and function well inspite of them. My mantra in life has always been No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up. During this April it has been make it simple, make it easy. I break jobs into bits and pieces. They add up. I’ve been doing things this way for a long time, even in writing. First, a word, then a sentence. String them together and you have a paragraph. I learned the importance of one small step at a time from Anne Lamott’s book, Bird by Bird. It’s a wonderful little book.

It applies not only to writing, but just about everything in life as well. I’ve sewn 100 log cabin quilt squares that way a few years ago. I have yet to put them together though. It’ll be my square by square project in winter. I talked about getting moving on with my gardening. All I could do yesterday was water the greenhouse and plop 4 cauliflower seedlings in the raised bed outside. It’s not much but it’s not nothing. This morning I’ve managed to pot up 3 squash sprouted seeds before my mood got the better of me. I’m getting things done, living life in bits and pieces.

Choosing Joy

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Things don’t flow easily for me and joy doesn’t come naturally. And so I have to make choices and work at making them come true. I have never sung in the shower. It’s hard to bounce out of bed in the morning. I felt stuck to the mattress. I didn’t want to stay there all day so I had to choose to unstick and hoist myself out. I didn’t really want to go to the gym either. But I knew it was good for what’s ailing me. I chose not to dwell on my ‘feelings’ and went.

In the past, I have allowed my emotions to rule the roost. Now having lived through many ups, downs and sideways, I have more experience and better control. I am in the driver’s seat and can decide whither I shall go – most of the time. I don’t want to keep falling into Portia Nelson’s hole in the street. I walk down another street called joy.

“I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes me a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in. It’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault. I get out immediately.

walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

I walk down another street.”

A GOOD PRACTICE

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It’s another first day of the rest of my life. I’m as grumpy as all get up. Summer heat makes my whole body ache on rising. But I shall grin and bear it. I’m going to tackle my most dreaded chore of tackling the paper pile today. I’m not exactly fresh nor energized but mornings are still my best time. We’ll see how I will progress. Nothing happens if I don’t begin. Beginning is hard. Beginning is the magic word.

Purging is the first step. Boy, what a chore! I’m very bad at not opening my mail. That was my first pile. They’re mostly opened now and put in their appropriate piles. I’ve had this problem for a long time. It’s something that I do know. There’s only one way to correct it. That is to open my mail and deal with it ASAP. Let me put it on the list of bad habits to correct. I’ll start off August with opening each piece of mail. Let me to see if I can do that for the whole month.

It is now middle of the afternoon. My box of paper is not overflowing anymore. My bills are paid. I will not try to do any more hard sorting today. I do feel less overwhelmed. Why do I keep doing that to myself, eh? Over and over. I will not try to deal with the psychology of all that. No need to be that gerbil on the wheel. I can just fall off and do the work.

It’s another first day of the rest of my life. There has been a couple of such days since the last. I don’t profess this great or inspired writing. I just want to chart my progress of this journey call life. Once you hit a certain age and certainly after retirement, there are less significant markers. But I can’t say that for this year. Covid-19 is a huge marker of 2020. Myy mother’s shingles experience is memorable but with a good outcome. Sheba’s leaving us for doggy heaven was heart wrenching but natural in the order of life and death.

It’s good for me to do my tapping/talking here. I know I’m not being correct when the words hit the page. I can do an edit. But if I keep it all inside, the words and worries will turn over and over, fester and grows infectious. They can poison my body and soul. This is a good practice for me. Now that I’ve tapped out a few words and thoughts, I will head over to sort some paper clutter. Another day in the life of….

CRAZY

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What I know for sure is thoughts can drive you crazy. I have been a bit crazed these last couple of days. Round and round they go like in a mix master. They are well blended now – all in a gooey mess. I’ve been driven slightly mad with it all. That’s why I come to this place to tap out the letters, words, thoughts. It soothes me, slows down the mad rush of emotions swirling within. Maybe I can sort them out one by one. Maybe I can make sense of everything and save my sanity.

The police liason officer have met with me and the woman next door. This is our second such meeting. The first time was last fall. At the time the officer knew that he would have to come back again. It’s too bad that he’s away on leave. But the second officer was equally capable and sometimes it’s good to have a different set of eyes. He got back to me yesterday after his meeting with the neighbour. He sounded surprised that she seemed quite mentally disturbed. I felt a bit ‘amused’ for lack of a better word. Perhaps, after 12 years of experiencing her, I’m finding her disturbness ‘normal’ but she’s just difficult.

At the time of our conversation, I had somewhat recovered my composure. His visit the day before had stirred up alot of unpleasant emotions, of anger and helplessness. And that was what I expressed – my anger, frustrations and feelings of helplessness. Because in the end, all this is about nothing. He understood. He agrees it was nothing, that he spent 15 minutes talking to her. She showed him weeds where there were none. She showed him her messy driveway from our one pine needle on it. He was shocked by the things that bothered her. She took him to her backyard to show our mess between the fence and garage. He didn’t see any mess.

But in the end, as I already knew, there’s really nothing to be done. They could arrest and charge her for throwing rocks at me and tearing my signs down. But it would not be appropriate or fair because she has mental health issues. I agree. I don’t want her jailed either, but it is also not fair to me to have this person harassing me all the time. He also agrees and emphasized how strange she is and how very fixated she is on my yard. I already knew that. She is also very fixated on me.

I do not like it one bit that it is still I, who has to do the accommodating because of her mental state. I suggested that she should get some counselling. He agreed and said maybe medications.  He would call her or pay her another visit. He also suggest that I ignore her and let her mess in those 6 inches along her driveway. I informed him that’s what I have done for 12 years and it hasn’t work. She pushes the envelope way beyond.  I suggest that when he sees her, to measure out the 6 inches with her. We both agreed that this is really not about boundaries. It’s about everything and nothing. I did not tell him that I think she’s playing up her mental health thing with him. She is very smart and clever in these ways. All the same, I wouldn’t say she got all her marbles.

There I have it. Something and nothing. It’s the something about nothing that drives me crazy. But I’ve dumped it all out on the page. I’ve inhaled and exhaled. I’ve done my best. I’m letting it go – again. I will let the drama play itself out. The case is closed until the next time. And I know there will be a next time. Oh, the drama on Preston Ave. is fodder for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I should be grateful, eh?

WHY?

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You wonder how and why a 17 year old male could open fire at a high school in Sante Fe today. He killed 10 people and injured another 10. You wonder how this could happen so soon after the Florida high school shooting where 17 people were killed. Of course mental health plays into it. But without weapons of mass destruction, there would be less young lives lost. What would it take to stop all this? Some of the answers are quite simple but why are the lawmakers so unwilling?

It’s politics, I know but it’s not something I can understand. I’ve listened and heard all the rhetorics on how all life is sacred, even the unborn fetus. There’s interest groups that abhors abortion and would protest vigorously and violently against it. But what about the lives that are already born?

It’s late, I know for such musings and questions. I’ve just watched the news. No, it is not a good idea to watch it just before bedtime. There’s really  no good time to watch such news. But it is a waker upper, making me feel totally bizarre. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH US? As Caroline Myss would say, STOP IT. Go put your head in the toilet for 7 minutes. Chill or take a pill. It’s too late for therapy when a 17 or however old person has a gun/guns in his hands.

Sorry, just a bit late night ranting. Trying to find a bit of sanity in a mad, mad world. Sometimes it’s not a bad idea to scream. I’ve done my share. My throat is a bit sore from it all. I will say good night now.

THERE ARE NO WONDERS

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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?

SOME DAYS ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS

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I lost my battle to inertia today, sleeping in till after 8.  Then after breakfast, I curled up with a book in the sun room and lost myself in its pages.  It was wonderful laying in the sun, wrapped in my quilt…..living other people’s lives, feeling their emotions and not having to deal with anything real.   I didn’t even make dinner.

But you can handle only so much inertia before you start feeling not so great.  I felt all the weariness of others’ guilt, anger and remorse.  And they’re not even real people but made up, fictitious.  How stupid is that?  But I knew there was a lesson for me in that book.  And I had to get to the end of it.  And so I sped ahead to the last chapters.  Then backtracked to the middle to complete the story.

You see, I have no patience, even in my fatigue.  I cannot do one thing at a time, in order, no more than I can read one page at a time in the order they were put together.  I suppose it is not that huge a revelation. but it is some kind of awakening.  I will have to slow down and learn to dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s.  I might miss too many things along life’s road if I don’t.

I finally did manage to get myself up off the couch.  It was a very painful process.  And Sheba and I went for our walk.  It was equally painful but the important thing was we still did it.  Some days are just better than others.

BUILDING HABITS, BUILDING DREAMS

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27097_321356195886_8251743_nMornings are hard in the middle of December.  The sun does not show its face till 9 or later.  So lucky that we have Sheba to be our alarm clock.  She is quite persistent.  If licks on the face, runs at the bed doesn’t work, she will resort to loud barking to get us out of bed.  I am hungry!  I am hungry!  Get up!  Get up!  What is the matter with you people?

So another day begins.  It is 7:25 and we have slept in!  I think about hopping on the exercise bike with my book and mug of tea for a few minutes but thought was all I did.  Oh tomorrow is another day.  I will have to remember that for tomorrow and not let myself down and slide on the slippery slope of will power.  I am an adult after all.

So, this is another morning.  Wake up call again..at 7.  I get up, remembering my promise to get on the exercise bike.  I am feeling low and tired.  It is not visions of sugar plums dancing I see in my head, but the shooting at the school in Connecticut.  It is the cares of the world I am feeling along with my own uncertainties and heaviness.  But time has been my best teacher.  All the thinking and feeling and trying to understand and figure things out has not helped me in the past.

And so I sigh, get out of bed, make my tea and head downstairs to the bike.  I turn on my SAD light and set my timer for 16 minutes.  Those minutes are long and short at the same time.  My thighs ache and I stop to rest and sip my tea.  Hurry, hurry, get going!  Only 16 minutes.  You want to get going to get some good.  Only 16 minutes to read this book.  Pedal!  Pedal!

The 16 minutes are over and so is breakfast.  Those feelings of despair for the world come and go.  When they come, I remember that it does me no good to think and feel them.  I get up and move.  I put the breakfast dishes in the washer.  I wipe the counter.  I put away the towels someone has folded for me.  I sucked up Sheba’s hair off the floor in the kitchen, dining room and sun room with the electric Swifter.

The sun is out and I am sitting here, tap, tapping out my words.  What I am thinking now is about the irony of our world, our lives.  This is the time when we do have the world at our fingertips.  With a touch of a button, we can send a message across the world.  We can talk via Skype to someone on the other side of the globe.  We are more connected than ever.  Yet at the same time, we are more isolated than ever.  I am missing those times when we were more brave, daring…to be vulnerable and talk to each other, face to face, on the phone.  I miss those times when we were not afraid to be friends and say, I like you, I miss you.  I need you.

I count myself lucky that I can feel all these feelings.  Sometimes they are a BIG nuisance.  You have a life to live, you know, and you have to flog through all the heaviness of feeling, just to get out of bed.  But the rewards of trying and doing are very much worth it.  Cultivating good habits help.  I love Regina Brett’s:  Get up, dress up, show up.  Every time I can do that, I know that I am a success.

sunroomI find that I can accomplish great things if I show up.  Sometimes our worst of times can be our best of times.  My sun room is the best testimony to that.  Because of my ‘condition’ of Seasonal Affective Disorder, I look for solutions and possibilities.  And this is the end result.

We are all builders.  So let us build good things.  Let us build a better world.  We can start with just a single block.