LIFE IS FOR PASSIONS

 

Here it is, the 8th day of July and the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I am finding life a bit of a challenge. I am sure we all are with the Covid-19. I’ve lost my fur baby of 14 years in May. I’m still grieving for Sheba. There’s not a day that I don’t think of her. On top of that, the neighbour is still on her harassment path. Summer is here. There’s the garden and yard to tend to. I cannot do anything near our cedars beside her driveway without drawing her attention, followed by her drama. The purpose of this month and challenge is to help me disengaged from her negative energy. I want to live in peace alongside her property.

Most days I feel I’m going nowhere. It has been 12 years now, off and on that she has been harassing me. I am tired and fed up with her in my thoughts constantly. I am sick of working on the problem. I took some time this morning just standing and watching the plants sway in the wind. I felt as if I was swaying with them, letting their rhythm soothe, empty and calm my mind. I’ve given away too much of my time and energy to the woman next door. It’s doing me in. Time to stop.

It’s not as if I’m lacking for things to do. There never seem enough time to do all the things I want to. I could lose myself for hours puttering in the yard and garden. There’s harvesting each day – lettuce, spinach, Chinese mustard greens, strawberries. Today I got a handful of blueberries and haskaps. Then you have to do something with the harvest. Otherwise they would spoil and go to waste. At each day’s end I am tired and wishing for more time.

I really must get myself back from overthinking and stressing about the neighbour next door. I have much better things to think about. I’m over a week behind in the Daisy Yellow Index Card a Day Challenge. I made time today to catch up a little today. It was a much better time spent, making art on a 4 x 6 index card. Sheba came alive again – on paper. Life is too short for someone to rob me of my passions.

 

 

 

SHEBA IS OK. I AM OK

I’ve been having more frequent moments of missing Sheba the last couple of days. It has been acute today. I haven’t gotten around to storing her bowls yet, but I did bag up her Kong bed yesterday. It did make me feel better in moments. Other times it gave me such an acute longing and missing her. Fourteen years is hard to erase and process.

Though both we and Sheba knew that our time together was coming to end it is still very difficult. Towards the last couple of months of her life, Sheba stopped sleeping in the bedroom with us. She retreated to the livingroom or the sunroom. Perhaps she was preparing us. So my tears come. My tears flow this morning as I biked down the alleys we used to walk. I see that the squash grower has planted potatoes this year instead. Memories, images and tears come as I pedal.

I tell myself I have to do something else beside cry. So I practice riding with just one hand on the handlebar, then the other. I’m not good enough yet to use one hand on and to signal with the other. I can manage a quick scratch of my nose. I practice looking behind me for traffic. I want to get enough confidence to ride down busier streets. I still have goals. I’m still interested in improving my skills of living.

I took a little break from my sadness. I worked in the front yard. I put myself in every corner, reclaiming every inch of it. I am not letting the neighbour bully and throw her weight on my property. I wonder what kind of person would plant little trees on a neighbour’s property, right along my raised garden bed. I wonder what kind of person would have the Weedman spray pesticide right along that bed of vegetables. I’m wondering but not expecting any answers. Living next to this person has deepened my sadness in these times.

Now it is almost 8 o’clock in the evening. I love sitting out here and watch the sun playing shadows on the garage wall. In other times, Sheba would be laying here beside my feet. She is ok. I don’t have to worry about her now. I’m ok. We’ve had our time together. I am no longer angry with the neighbour. However, I am a little afraid of her venom and malice. I do not care about the row of little evergreens beside the raised bed. They have nowhere to grow but over her driveway. .

 

ANGER DOES NOT BECOME ME

First things first this morning. I had to join in for the online YWCA morning exercise class on Zoom. I have to get back to a regular schedule more than ever now that there is no Sheba to take me out on our walks. Then I had to hang up the laundry, clean the toilet and wash the bathroom floor. The phone rang. I had missed an appointment. Sorry, sorry, sorry! Can I reschedule? Of course I could since it was my bank and really, they do work for me. They’ve left me waiting, dangling my heels a few times and not for a short time. But I mustn’t forget tomorrow though. Today the toilet was more important.

I have to admit that I am a bit of a train wreck. I must try a little harder not to steam up, cry about Sheba and blow my stack over the woman next door. I should put away Sheba’s leftover food and her bowls. Every time I walk by them, I forget and think I should fill her water bowl. Then the tears start. And really, that woman next door…I know that I should get her out of my system once and for all. The truth is I am only an ordinary human being. I can let it go for awhile. Because she is so good and smart at what she is, she will catch me unaware again and again. She has done so for over 10 years. But at least I have reported her to the police last year and again recently. There’s not much they can do about alot of her crap, but trespass is against the law.

Tomorrow is here and I mustn’t forget about my appointment this afternoon. My phone rang again. It is those scammers who said they’re from Service Canada again. So I pressed 1 as the recording says to know more details. I demanded to know their identity and where they are calling from. I demanded and shouted. I’ve done this a few times now. They’ve hung up on me. Sometimes I hang up on them. I am angry. I am just so angry. Tears come. My stomach goes into knots. There is no love in my heart. I know not everyone is evil but evil does exist. Some people are just bad.

I know Anne Lamott said that anger is a form of prayer. I believe it can be but I also know that it is not good for me. It is killing me now and I must feel it and release it. So I letting it out like a long foul fart. There you go,  just passing wind. I hope I can be sweeter tomorrow.