I’m just passed my least favourite part of the day – lunch and its aftermath. I don’t know why that is. Today is the worst. I haven’t fully recovered from my cold. I still have that occasional hard to shake cough, echoing head and the weak in the legs fatigue. I’ve been to the doctor 4 times this month though not all were related to my cold. The garden is begging some TLC. I’ve been poking at it, not even managing to weed my 2 rows of peas along the fence. They’re getting choked out by self-seeded cilantro and weeds. They’re also crying for water though it had rained the other day.

It’s been this kind of a summer. I’m feeling its blues. How could I not? I could be the poster woman for the all year round depressive. No, I’m not ashamed or afraid to talk about it. Maybe I should be  but what’s there to be afraid or ashamed of? I’m acknowledging my feelings and seeking solutions. I’m trying to engage my left brain and right brain in a dialogue with each other. Two halves can make a whole. Two heads are better than one. More is better. I’m trying to console myself. Self love. Talk about euphemism! I’m on a roll.

I think the after lunch dirty dishes, pots and pans are symbols of the mess of life to me. When I look at the whole enchilada scattered on the counters, I just want to close my eyes. My God, how in the hell can I put everything right again? I feel whipped with fatigue and helplessness. There’s nothing to do except sigh and move however I can and at whatever speed I can.

I am always delight in fooling my feelings. I take pleasure in showing them up. I can do more even though they sit on me and try to pull me down in the deep dark hole. Sometimes it seem like I’m moving like a robot. Mechanical is ok. I keep moving until things are done. The dishes, pots and pans are washed. The mess in the fridge calls out to me. I can hear it even with the door closed. That’s the thing. I know it’s there even when I can’t see it. I’ve learned I can rest better when I answer its call. It’s not difficult after all.

I know it’s summer and it’s holiday time. I think I’m suppose to be happy, carefree and having a whole lot of fun. But I was never that kind of a girl. I’m not that kind of a woman. Growing up as a child of immigrant parents in a small town, summer was never what I called ‘fun’. It was lonely. School was over and it seems the whole town was away on holidays except for us. That was my perception at the time.

That is my perception today, too. Everybody is on holidays and having fun, except me. The difference now is I know IT IS NOT TRUE. It’s just my blues vocal of the moment. Tomorrow I could be singing a different tune.



I would love another cup of tea. To get up and put on the kettle gives me a break from what ever I am doing. My pains are still with me. Tylenol Extra Strength does work but it takes only some of the edges off. So I can only work at one thing in short spurts. Staying too long, concentrating too much makes my body want to scream. So another cup of tea, a few brush strokes, a few sentences here and there and getting up, breathing in between.

It was a long in-be-tween! Another cup of tea and dim sim with my family and I’m back, sitting here again. But I think I will have to pause for that cuppa again and a Tylenol 3. Strange weather we are having. Right now it is -8 C. The sun is shining. It does not feel like January but more like March. I should not complain but I am. Nothing is like it used to be. I don’t like it. I am having a tantrum. I better go make that cup of tea.

I’m more wary and conscious what aggravates and what eases my discomfort. Tantrums certainly aggravates and stalls me. I am learning to note its presence and let it go. Sheba’s loud barking makes me crazy. We go for an earlier walk. It’s saves both our lives. Walking in sunshine is much pleasanter. I will adopt this new time. Messy floor with dog hair intensifies everything. Having the Dyson stick makes life much easier. Clutter makes me want to pull my hair out. It will be my physiotherapy to find homes and put things away. There is a reason for everything that happens. It’s one way of looking at it besides letting it bring me down.

The pain has its attributes. It slows everything down for me. In a way it makes me more observant and deliberate.  It keeps me quiet, blocks out judgement and keeps the critical eye at bay. I save all my observations for later, when I am in a better frame of mind. It is safer, too. Pain can colour perceptions. I don’t want to make any decisions or voice any judgements under its cloud. Be safe. Clearly my mind is not at its best today. I’ve lost focus and direction of where this is going. But no matter. I am showing up as best as I can. I’m