Grateful

Today I cried.

A full fledge bawl fest.

Tears flowing without stop…..unexpectantly.

I gazed upon the beauty of the sky awash with sun sprinkled with the white of the clouds. In of me a clear view of the mountains as far as they stretched unencumbered by anything. And I was in awe. and so grateful for my sight. So grateful that I could see the wonders of my Lord. and I became overcome with emotion. I thought of all the people that were around me that were missing it. As they grumbled about the traffic. I thought of all the unsighted people, people whose sight may be waning and I sobbed.

All I could think was thank you Lord. THANK YOU LORD. Thank you Lord.

Thank you Lord.

I feel affected by the experience and ….Blessed.

And for that, I am even more grateful.

Hope this day has blessed you as well.

As my mother would say God Bless.

If I coulda

Human beings take a toll on me. And the last few weeks have been so very exhausting. Mentally.

I have been accused of being a good listener (even though a dear friend of mine says I actually am not) Some people have even said that I missed my calling and I should have been a psychiatrist or psychologist. People like to vent to me.

Why? because I don’t interrupt (most times) and then I give mostly unbiased suggestions.

I don’t know what it was about this week but I have had to defuse 5 heated ventings. And they have totally wreaked my spirit. All that heat, and anger and hurt feelings. Listening to two sides and knowing that it is really the third side that is really the truth. Exhausting.

I have no idea why or if it is that I am just tired or if it is the Moon rising. People have just been so testy and making me feel even testier.

Whatever the reason I am reminded of my younger version desire to live high on a mountain far away from people. Which by the way would never work as I still very afraid of height and the cold. So maybe a remote island with a dazzling beach may be more better suited.

Once again reminded that I couldn’t be a psychiatrist or psychologist I wouldn’t know how not to absorb all that negative energy.

Human beings tire me out. Just exhausted.

addicted

A fact I would never have thought to apply to myself is…

I have an addictive problem.

Yes, it is safe to say I can be very addictive.

No no no it’s not about drugs, or alcohol or smoking or any other harmful substances.

No my addiction is something simple…innocuous even. It’s reading.

Reading the books I like is like a drug to me. Once I start I can’t stop… it is like sitting on top of the windy whippy slides in an amusement park except its neverending. Once I start I keep going and going getting lost in whichever land, period, relationship that I have chosen to explore. And I get lost. At times I can’t distinguish what is written and what is real. My brain replays the characters and situations as if they are mine. I put them on like fancy clothing for a big event.

I never read anything longer than a magazine article when I first started having children. Children and being totally immersed in a good book just would never work.

I stayed away for years…17 to be exact and then I downloaded the Kindle app on my phone and now I am lost. Book after book after book. I get twitchy if I don’t have something to read. Twitchy I say. It is highly inconvenient though during this time of COVID 19 when I have an entire household to feed, clothe and entertain and all I want to do is escape.

I am currently reading 10 books thanks to some readings apps ( I think it’s more but shhh)

I sit in the dark with only the glow of the device to illuminate the surroundings.

And I allow the words to swirl around and around me taking form and taking hold of my mind. My guilty pleasure.

Yes I am addicted.

so it’s a little bit of a ramble. i miss taking time to write and let out my thoughts. i think i am afraid to let it out. so much to deal with.

 

My mother is dead.

yes she is still dead. there has been no miraculous event which resulted in her coming back to us whole and how she was before.

Dead for an entire year. 365 days of fog that rolled along grey and heavy.  Cloying. suffocating.

Dead. I feel that a large chunk of me died with her.

Drowning myself with endless streams of televised nonsense that help to distract.

Sigh time goes on and with this the realization that it doesn’t get easier it just is. It just is.

Maybe in a few plenty years it would be okay, but then maybe it wouldn’t.

Miss having her. I even miss the annoying parts.

 

On an aside, I am really feeling a bit over needy and kinda neglected… but mostly clingy and wishing more people would call and ask me how I am doing. None of my aunts have ever once asked me if I was holding up okay. They call my sisters but not me. Friends not so much either. I guess I am not there but she was my mother too… she was my mother first. Sigh

Yes lots of emotions still.

 

 

 

Christmas Blues

I have decided that I am clearly not doing enough to get the life I think I want.

Why you may wonder I would state this so positively…Well, it’s that time of the year again where I fret about my lack of funds.

Yes, it’s Christmas and once again I am totally broke. Mind you it’s a combination of clients not paying on time and large annual bills that are due.  I am still broke and have to practice the ‘less is more skill, the make something out of nothing and you really don’t need that’ skill. Which really is killing me being my best, I need to give everyone the multitude of gifts that I have seen perfect for them, me. My brain and heart are way richer than my bank account. LOL.

Honestly, I am grateful for life, and food and shelter and family. Just thinking that yes I need to work better, save better, plan better and pray better too so that I don’t have another Christmas that isn’t quite how I want it. Yeah.

Thanks for listening (reading) to my ramble.

 

 

Musings of an orphan

Monday would be a month and one week  exactly since my mother passed away. I can’t believe it .

I find it so hard to say the word died. Passed away is so much gentlier.

Even though I was expecting it I am still shocked that she actually is no longer here with us. I had convinced myself that she would be with us for her birthday. But I guess she didn’t want to see another Carnival as the shell she was.

I take solace actually in the fact that, even though it seemed long, her ordeal didn’t drag on and was over relatively quickly.

BUT I miss her.

I miss the shell she had become. I miss knowing that she was there.

I miss the memories of her, I miss her chatter, I miss hearing her voice, I miss being fussed about, bossed about by her.

I miss her

I was thinking I was numb and maybe I am but I think I am sad.

A sadness that has coated my being , that has become so knitted into me that it is normal. So that I am not lying when I tell people that I am OK because I am OK. I am just sitting in my normal. It is not heavy. I am not weighed down at least I don’t think so. I a.m just a little sluggish and I think I could really just be left to lay in bed for a bit. I think I am really not ready to face the world. But I am OK.

Being OK sucks.

I really miss knowing she was there.

I miss the expectations that I had for life. I miss my dreams that encompassed her. I feel cheated.

Even though I am grown old woman I balk at the fact that I am indeed an orphan.

Sigh the regret, the guilt, the if onlys, the i wishes.

sigh

I sit in my covering of sad.

 

But still I ponder on this

“What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes part of us.”

Helen Keller

 

 

 

 

 

A bright and colourful blue dress

I have been actively searching for a dress.

A dress in blue that is both vivid but sober enough to reflect the fact that it is for a funeral.

Yes I am looking for a dress that is for my mother’s funeral.

My mother who is not dead. Yet.

It is supposed to be in blue because the youngest sister thinks we should all be in blue cause she loved blue. ( I really dislike blue) It can’t be black becauseMummy hated black. Bright colours for everyone.

For my mother who is not dead. Yet.

It is kinda disturbing to the psyche planning a funeral to happen in the not sure future.

Yup very disturbing.

I feel so bratty always talking about this, but I am not adjusting well to the fact that another parent of mine is on her way out. So many what ifs, if only and why nots charge through my brain on consistent loop in my thoughts, in my dreams on the tip of my tongue. This reality seems so unreal. I can’t seem to wrap my brain around the fact that Mummy isn’t going to get better and she is not able to fix this.

I think this one may work.

Not ready.

 

Phone calls

Today I kept getting the feeling that my mother would call me. Turned around at least three times in anticipation.

….

The thing is my mother hasn’t spoken words in well over a year or for that matter remembered how to use a phone.

I know this, but I still had that feeling and it made me miss her phone calls. I spoke to her at least once a week when she was her.

In hindsight I probably should have called her and spoke at her but I didn’t. It is really very strange carrying on a long distance phone conversation with someone who is not able to respond. But strange or not I will keep it up…  I wonder why I just didn’t do it today when I  felt that sensation of a phone call from her.

Sigh. I really wish I could carry on a conversation with her fuh real. I miss her.

Things I ponder.

 

In the land of dashed expectations

I dawned on me the other day, much to my chagrin.

I have for the last few many years been living in the land of dashed expectations.

I had avision of a modern equal partnership in marriage 50/50 sharing together in everything, acceptance of each other and chores and task fairly shared. Turns out though if you marry a 1960 mindset guy then the balance is off and it is really more like 90/10 ok maybe 80/20 favourable to him.

Expectation for my son was that of days filled with mischief, sport and arguments of whether it was wise to go hanging with friends all day and play video games all night. Signing up for college and whispers of girls. Football captain, HighSchool Valedictorian, Geekdom ….. But AUTISM.

My parents, I expected them to albeit be grey and slightly bent to be still there for me healthy and strong available for me forever… well as close to forever as can be taking care of themselves strong…. But DEMENTIA and DIABETES.

Work I fully expected to be accomplished, head of something, owner of somewhere captain of my talents, of my skills and eventually the proud owner of a very pretty, polished glossy magazine. Comfortably wealthy with one or three helpers ….But LIFE and maybe a touch of laziness and a whole lot of fear.

My life looks nothing like I expected it to be.

Not all of it is bad. I have adapted and found joy in most thing. My son has changed my outlook and view of life and what is possible. Well marriage… I am still married I have adapted to that as well.

Dealing with the ailing parent and the subsequent death of one is really overwhelming me. I miss my parents. I grieve for them. Daddy before he died and now that he is gone. And Mummy though still alive in body I miss. I miss hear her voice, I miss her advice Her presence her essence. Her stubbornness her Mummyness. She was my all and I am losing it now that she is slowly dying. Gone is my expectation of greyed older person getting along swimmingly with their grandchildren and then passing peaceably in the night.

Living in the land of dashed expectations.

 

 

(sorry for the ramblings… just needed to get it out)

I find people disappointing.

 

 

(I started this awhile ago but never posted I had more to add but now looking at it I think it can stand on it’s on.)