I have been in pain for some time. Today, I had to complete a pain survey. After the survey, the doc interviewed me. I burst open explaining how I felt - nearly in tears.
"How's your pain level now?" he asked.
"Much easier," I responded.
Amazing what talk therapy will do.
This past weekend I was visiting one of my children in another state. Almost immediately my former spouse and his family arrived. More immediately, I was once again relegated to the edge of the sofa I bought them. For several hours, not one word was said to involve me in the conversation. Now mind you, I would jump in if there was something I could respond to. I don't need non-stop conversation. She did. But this isn't about her painbody.
My children are now fully grown. I don't talk babies anymore. And clearly, I was not wanted in the conversation. I wondered about their sensitivity level. What it means to be a good host. What I meant to them. By seven o'clock that night I was on my way back to my expensive hotel room.
The following day I took a taxi to visit said child in his home again. The visit began nice enough until the ex and his entourage arrived. Then the ex's new wife usurped every ounce of air in their tiny townhouse. At that point, I asked my child to drive me to the hotel. I was done. I left the following mid morning to my home in the mountains. I spent a lot of time and money to visit them and my grandchildren. It was my grandchildren's birthday weekend.
I am back home now. Back in a space where I feel safe. Safer. My walls are nice to me. Nicer than...
In thinking about this past weekend - this smacks of more abandonment. Mine. My child's even. He is his dad's son and limited emotionally. I see this the older he gets. Clearly, I have little purpose in his hi-brow and upscale lifestyle.
I have cried my eyes out too many times over this. I think about where I go during these times. I think about the anger. The fear so deep in my being. I think about abandonment and worry I will abandon him before he abandons me any further. I ask so little of my children. With this child, courtesy would be nice. Thoughtfulness, too.
My thoughts travel back sixty years. That four year old child sitting in the grass by her Baltimore home. She cried because her parents were at a funeral. She cried because she thought it was theirs. But the tears weren't just for that episode. It was all the years they couldn't be emotionally available - that she was abandoned by her father, brother and eventually her mother.
Someone close to her, who didn't really know her all that well said it all.
"Armour. You have armour on."
I guess I do. Why wouldn't I?
How do you know this? Because you wear it, too.
May we all find our way home. To ourselves. May we all let others be where they are.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Shame On Your House!
From early on, J and M were a done deal. M's husband worked feverishly to get her in as president of their homeowner's association. On the night of the election, no one realized the fact that J's husband a detective in their small town, would contribute to what was about to happen. J and M live next door to one another in the valley of the hollow which houses nearly sixty homes.
Two men were also elected to the homeowner's association. No one knew for the first few years that the men were consistently excluded from the monthly board meetings. Neither of them, former executives, would question or object to the exclusion or inform the residents.
After some six years on the board, a group of homeowner's learned about this behavior and organized to oust the two women. Immediately, a new board was formed. The new president R and her team were totally transparent. But they were in a quandary. The former president and vice president refused to hand over any notes. They also learned, and subsequently disclosed to the community, that the association funds were placed in the personal bank account of the president and her husband. There was never one single bank statement or paid receipt shared with the residents. Not one. Moreover, throughout the original president's tenure, she was never available by phone or by knocking on her front door. She never returned one single phone call. Her husband controlled every communication between her and the neighbors.
President R discovered immediately that M was not paying her dues. There is no record that she ever did or any record who paid dues in the past. In the past two years, the board has had to plead with M to pay the required dues which is due in January of each year.
Both M and J repeatedly violate the by-laws. Both J and M's families ride ATV's throughout the community damaging logging roads walked by residents. Not only is the noise consistently overbearing, their offspring who also ride the ATVs do not wear helmets. M's husband has a history of violence and has terrorized his neighbors. His dogs bark throughout the night as well. It is believed they are abused, too.
Last week, the new board invited the Sheriff for a meeting. The Sheriff insisted the homeowner's follow the rules including minors wearing helmets, that they be licensed drivers and a sundry of other things. Even through the roads are private, driver's must follow state driving laws.
The first day of fall this year, the board placed a lien on M's home. That day, M paid the back dues resulting in the lien on her house being removed. It is curious to note at this juncture, that M would have no way of knowing about the lien because the mail had not gone out informing them of a lien.
Once again, it is important to note that M and J are friends. J's husband is a detective in the Sheriff's Department in this county. This writer is shocked that someone in the Sheriff's Department would run their mouth, especially to a neighbor. What goes on in the Sheriff's Department is on public record. His job is to serve and protect, not run his mouth!
For shame on all your houses!
Two men were also elected to the homeowner's association. No one knew for the first few years that the men were consistently excluded from the monthly board meetings. Neither of them, former executives, would question or object to the exclusion or inform the residents.
After some six years on the board, a group of homeowner's learned about this behavior and organized to oust the two women. Immediately, a new board was formed. The new president R and her team were totally transparent. But they were in a quandary. The former president and vice president refused to hand over any notes. They also learned, and subsequently disclosed to the community, that the association funds were placed in the personal bank account of the president and her husband. There was never one single bank statement or paid receipt shared with the residents. Not one. Moreover, throughout the original president's tenure, she was never available by phone or by knocking on her front door. She never returned one single phone call. Her husband controlled every communication between her and the neighbors.
President R discovered immediately that M was not paying her dues. There is no record that she ever did or any record who paid dues in the past. In the past two years, the board has had to plead with M to pay the required dues which is due in January of each year.
Both M and J repeatedly violate the by-laws. Both J and M's families ride ATV's throughout the community damaging logging roads walked by residents. Not only is the noise consistently overbearing, their offspring who also ride the ATVs do not wear helmets. M's husband has a history of violence and has terrorized his neighbors. His dogs bark throughout the night as well. It is believed they are abused, too.
Last week, the new board invited the Sheriff for a meeting. The Sheriff insisted the homeowner's follow the rules including minors wearing helmets, that they be licensed drivers and a sundry of other things. Even through the roads are private, driver's must follow state driving laws.
The first day of fall this year, the board placed a lien on M's home. That day, M paid the back dues resulting in the lien on her house being removed. It is curious to note at this juncture, that M would have no way of knowing about the lien because the mail had not gone out informing them of a lien.
Once again, it is important to note that M and J are friends. J's husband is a detective in the Sheriff's Department in this county. This writer is shocked that someone in the Sheriff's Department would run their mouth, especially to a neighbor. What goes on in the Sheriff's Department is on public record. His job is to serve and protect, not run his mouth!
For shame on all your houses!
Monday, September 22, 2014
All The Leaves
Fall is a special time of year. As we clean out the gardens that have nourished us all year, we also clean out things in our lives that are equally spent. Sometimes it is ways of thinking that no longer serve us, sometimes it is organizations, sometimes people. Whatever it is in your world, it is a good thing. 
For one, it lightens the load. Paths cross to teach us things. When we can no longer learn from them, we are forced to release them. Second, it forces us to look at what is. Often what is isn't as bad as we think. It is our thought processes that make it 'feel' bad. Lately, I have been in my thoughts more than any time in my life. Some is seasonal, but I like to think most is because I have crossed a path enough. It is time to try something new. Step out of the comfort zone. Change things up.
Often, we don't feel that things are changing. Often it feels like the same old thing. Only when we release how we think can we begin to see the changes happening right before us. There is a shift taking place. I feel it enormously and perhaps you do as well. Please take a peek and see if any of these signs resonate with you:
\\http://earthenergyreader.wordpress.com/2012/04/30/the-most-comprehensive-list-of-ascension-symptoms/
Perhaps what has affected me most this past month is pure lethargy. No energy. And I don't feel well. While this is happening, I also see my frustration with a lot of things. But it isn't so much the things that frustrate me as much as it is my orientation, my thoughts about these things.
As life would have it, today I have run into a lot of people I admire. One such person popped into a restaurant I rarely frequent, just as I was finishing lunch. He sat down and we talked for about an hour. Nothing major, just life. Simplicity. Common sense. He is close friends with the owner and they were going hiking later together - his grandchildren and her young children. Two generations from different cultures. The fellow was a few years older than I and I shared a lot of my thoughts with him. He had similar feelings about the malaise coming over our town.
Yes, things have their cycle. It is time to allow things to fall into place as they may. Time to go within. Now.
I like people that draw others toward them. As we slip into fall, it is important to pull people in, too. Pull them close. Open more. Give them a chance. And fall back into your self.
For one, it lightens the load. Paths cross to teach us things. When we can no longer learn from them, we are forced to release them. Second, it forces us to look at what is. Often what is isn't as bad as we think. It is our thought processes that make it 'feel' bad. Lately, I have been in my thoughts more than any time in my life. Some is seasonal, but I like to think most is because I have crossed a path enough. It is time to try something new. Step out of the comfort zone. Change things up.
Often, we don't feel that things are changing. Often it feels like the same old thing. Only when we release how we think can we begin to see the changes happening right before us. There is a shift taking place. I feel it enormously and perhaps you do as well. Please take a peek and see if any of these signs resonate with you:
\\http://earthenergyreader.wordpress.com/2012/04/30/the-most-comprehensive-list-of-ascension-symptoms/
Perhaps what has affected me most this past month is pure lethargy. No energy. And I don't feel well. While this is happening, I also see my frustration with a lot of things. But it isn't so much the things that frustrate me as much as it is my orientation, my thoughts about these things.
As life would have it, today I have run into a lot of people I admire. One such person popped into a restaurant I rarely frequent, just as I was finishing lunch. He sat down and we talked for about an hour. Nothing major, just life. Simplicity. Common sense. He is close friends with the owner and they were going hiking later together - his grandchildren and her young children. Two generations from different cultures. The fellow was a few years older than I and I shared a lot of my thoughts with him. He had similar feelings about the malaise coming over our town.
Yes, things have their cycle. It is time to allow things to fall into place as they may. Time to go within. Now.
I like people that draw others toward them. As we slip into fall, it is important to pull people in, too. Pull them close. Open more. Give them a chance. And fall back into your self.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Coffee
I was nearly forty-five when I began to drink coffee. It took a while to acquire the taste. Lots of milk, much like the way I and the English drink tea was the trick. I first started having coffee at work. It probably has to do with managing a few million dollars for a non-profit. A dry job at best. Coffee made the job more palatable.
Over the years, I would grab coffee on my way to work, drinking most of it in the car. I paper cupped it back then, too. I did carry a water bottle, to my credit.
Then one day, I discovered a coffee shop in town. A newly renovated one. I was invited to sit with a few friends and we would visit for fifteen minutes before I left for the twenty-five minute drive to work. Even the gym I used had a coffee shop. My weekend routine began with my early morning work-outs and stop for coffee and a chocolate chip bagel afterward. It was my treat for a successful work-out and a nice way to start the weekend.
I even talked the owners into trying chocolate chip bagels. They insisted they would not sell. But were they surprised! They couldn't keep enough on the shelf. Often, by the time I got into the bagel shop, they were out of my favorite bagel.
When I moved south, I looked around for a coffee shop. There was none here. A year later a bakery opened advertising natural food. Not organic...natural. Their coffee was good and their bakery and cafe was wonderful. It was the talk of the town. Everyone frequented the place.They ran the cafe for almost ten years.
Suddenly, the owners made a business decision which meant they would relocate their bakery to a larger city, more central to their business. Former employees gave it a try, but their inventory and staffing wasn't adequate to sustain the business. In time, customers went elsewhere.
Enter another company in the same space who made it known that profit was more important than customers. The baked items are sugary and prices way too high for a small town. The other coffee shop in town isn't great. Bathrooms are consistently dirty as is the place. Few of my friends will even walk through the front door. The place does not keep consistent hours, either.
So what is a gal to do? It is well nigh time for a change.
Over the years, I would grab coffee on my way to work, drinking most of it in the car. I paper cupped it back then, too. I did carry a water bottle, to my credit.
Then one day, I discovered a coffee shop in town. A newly renovated one. I was invited to sit with a few friends and we would visit for fifteen minutes before I left for the twenty-five minute drive to work. Even the gym I used had a coffee shop. My weekend routine began with my early morning work-outs and stop for coffee and a chocolate chip bagel afterward. It was my treat for a successful work-out and a nice way to start the weekend.
I even talked the owners into trying chocolate chip bagels. They insisted they would not sell. But were they surprised! They couldn't keep enough on the shelf. Often, by the time I got into the bagel shop, they were out of my favorite bagel.
When I moved south, I looked around for a coffee shop. There was none here. A year later a bakery opened advertising natural food. Not organic...natural. Their coffee was good and their bakery and cafe was wonderful. It was the talk of the town. Everyone frequented the place.They ran the cafe for almost ten years.
Suddenly, the owners made a business decision which meant they would relocate their bakery to a larger city, more central to their business. Former employees gave it a try, but their inventory and staffing wasn't adequate to sustain the business. In time, customers went elsewhere.
Enter another company in the same space who made it known that profit was more important than customers. The baked items are sugary and prices way too high for a small town. The other coffee shop in town isn't great. Bathrooms are consistently dirty as is the place. Few of my friends will even walk through the front door. The place does not keep consistent hours, either.
So what is a gal to do? It is well nigh time for a change.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Finding Enough
This year's vacation throughout New England was one of the best I have known. First of all, I got to meander. I love to meander. Stop at a bookstore. A coffee shop. A gift store. I like to sample local lore and crafts.
One of the best things was the time I spent in my beloved Vermont. I vacationed there as a child with my family. I brought my own family there numerous times. It was always my first choice of a place to live. Sadly, the long and cold New England winters will keep me away from being a resident.
Then I spent time with my family in New Hampshire and Maine. These are two states with breathtaking shore views! If you haven't traveled there, it is a must!
Coming home is always filled with anticipation. And exhaustion, especially if it is a road trip. 2,400 miles in two weeks meant I was in my compact car a lot. It is a cozy car, great mileage and reasonably comfy.
Three days after I returned home, one of my dogs had the first of what would be three grand mal seizures. Now I am good in a crisis. I have been in a few near death ones. The death of others, not mine. Fortunately.
There is nothing like a crisis where you are rendered totally helpless. All you have is your own skill and loving heart and compassion. During my vacation I thought about this. The times in my life where I felt supported, the people who supported me and my own good common sense going through whatever I was going through. Self-reliability. That is the ticket.
Making the decision to put my dog down was easy. Saying goodbye was not. She was suffering and I would never let her suffer. Again. Thrice is enough. But I learned something during these few weeks. At the same time my dog had her grand mal, I came down with a horrendous urinary tract infection. On a weekend of all things. Fortunately it was only a few days of misery before I got the medication. Then my dog was seizuring. Then again. I took her to the vet and later that day she seizured the last time.
I cried more over Molly's passing than I have in many years. In those Niagara Falls tears, I let go of so many things that apparently had been hanging on. Then I got a horrible virus. No doubt due to a compromised immune system. I had already been on Elderberry and probiotics and lots of vitamins. The letting go had to happen.
So I cut my long fingerheads off, cut off my hair and decided to continue my reclusing. My home is cozy enough. A few trips into town is all I need. Really. I like my space. Quiet.
The finding enough part comes from within. From having no place to turn with sorrow. Your friends are there, if you are lucky. Mine sure were. But your wise body-mind tells you, forces you...to go deeper. To take a look at why...where...you suffer. Crying is therapeutic. It cleanses the self. It helps you to examine your belief systems about the universe. About government. About truth. Accountability. About yourself. To let go. Ultimately.
Finding enough? I am.
One of the best things was the time I spent in my beloved Vermont. I vacationed there as a child with my family. I brought my own family there numerous times. It was always my first choice of a place to live. Sadly, the long and cold New England winters will keep me away from being a resident.
Then I spent time with my family in New Hampshire and Maine. These are two states with breathtaking shore views! If you haven't traveled there, it is a must!
Coming home is always filled with anticipation. And exhaustion, especially if it is a road trip. 2,400 miles in two weeks meant I was in my compact car a lot. It is a cozy car, great mileage and reasonably comfy.
Three days after I returned home, one of my dogs had the first of what would be three grand mal seizures. Now I am good in a crisis. I have been in a few near death ones. The death of others, not mine. Fortunately.
There is nothing like a crisis where you are rendered totally helpless. All you have is your own skill and loving heart and compassion. During my vacation I thought about this. The times in my life where I felt supported, the people who supported me and my own good common sense going through whatever I was going through. Self-reliability. That is the ticket.
Making the decision to put my dog down was easy. Saying goodbye was not. She was suffering and I would never let her suffer. Again. Thrice is enough. But I learned something during these few weeks. At the same time my dog had her grand mal, I came down with a horrendous urinary tract infection. On a weekend of all things. Fortunately it was only a few days of misery before I got the medication. Then my dog was seizuring. Then again. I took her to the vet and later that day she seizured the last time.
I cried more over Molly's passing than I have in many years. In those Niagara Falls tears, I let go of so many things that apparently had been hanging on. Then I got a horrible virus. No doubt due to a compromised immune system. I had already been on Elderberry and probiotics and lots of vitamins. The letting go had to happen.
So I cut my long fingerheads off, cut off my hair and decided to continue my reclusing. My home is cozy enough. A few trips into town is all I need. Really. I like my space. Quiet.
The finding enough part comes from within. From having no place to turn with sorrow. Your friends are there, if you are lucky. Mine sure were. But your wise body-mind tells you, forces you...to go deeper. To take a look at why...where...you suffer. Crying is therapeutic. It cleanses the self. It helps you to examine your belief systems about the universe. About government. About truth. Accountability. About yourself. To let go. Ultimately.
Finding enough? I am.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
On Loss
Over the years, I've known some losses. Loss of my dad, who walked out on us. Loss of my brother who moved away young in life. Loss of my mom who cut everyone off. That is my family of origin. I don't talk about it much. The pain runs deep.
I married a man who was not able to have a relationship. With anyone. It took me 28 years married, 2 years with him before marriage, to love myself enough to expect..want... more. More in a relationship. Perhaps that is the worst kind of pain. Wanting something that you just can't have. Then having to do something about it.
But that is also good news. It is about ultimately wanting something from yourself. Something that you can provide. It really isn't that hard. You just have to be still. Present. It doesn't come from running away.
I am in pain now. My dog passed a few days ago. She is the one looking up.
This photo was taken just before Molly passed, the last photo of my dogs together.
Molly had three grand mal seizures the days before. She knows. She is smelling an animal in the woods. It is a familiar pose. Her younger sister, Jessy is investigating something on the ground.
Molly is gone now. Watching her sister, who is in very poor health, looking all around for her, breaks my heart. Jessy always wants to go into the garage now. She walks around the car and wants to go into it. At first, I wasn't sure what this was about. So I took her into town. Never one to walk on a leash, she walked side to side. After a time, she began to look around. While I didn't see her tail wag, she did begin to perk up a bit. When it was time to go home, she found our car easily enough and sat down. She loves riding in the back. Loves looking outside.
this photo was taken yesterday
Loss is the great teacher. A sad teacher but a necessary one. It forces you to deal with the myriad of things in your life, things in your world that you refuse to deal with. We push these things aside, deny them hide them. We tell ourselves we have to move on. But we don't. Not really. These things are always present. Stored for that time when it is no longer so painful to remember. Stored for a time when you can no longer control it. Your collective pain body is about to burst. You burst for so many reasons.
I don't want to store any more pain. Ever. It only makes the losses were difficult. Like you, I have known my share of losses. But they won't be stored for a time when it is safe to remember. It is safe to have all of these feelings.
Now.
I married a man who was not able to have a relationship. With anyone. It took me 28 years married, 2 years with him before marriage, to love myself enough to expect..want... more. More in a relationship. Perhaps that is the worst kind of pain. Wanting something that you just can't have. Then having to do something about it.
But that is also good news. It is about ultimately wanting something from yourself. Something that you can provide. It really isn't that hard. You just have to be still. Present. It doesn't come from running away.
I am in pain now. My dog passed a few days ago. She is the one looking up.
Molly had three grand mal seizures the days before. She knows. She is smelling an animal in the woods. It is a familiar pose. Her younger sister, Jessy is investigating something on the ground.
Molly is gone now. Watching her sister, who is in very poor health, looking all around for her, breaks my heart. Jessy always wants to go into the garage now. She walks around the car and wants to go into it. At first, I wasn't sure what this was about. So I took her into town. Never one to walk on a leash, she walked side to side. After a time, she began to look around. While I didn't see her tail wag, she did begin to perk up a bit. When it was time to go home, she found our car easily enough and sat down. She loves riding in the back. Loves looking outside.
Loss is the great teacher. A sad teacher but a necessary one. It forces you to deal with the myriad of things in your life, things in your world that you refuse to deal with. We push these things aside, deny them hide them. We tell ourselves we have to move on. But we don't. Not really. These things are always present. Stored for that time when it is no longer so painful to remember. Stored for a time when you can no longer control it. Your collective pain body is about to burst. You burst for so many reasons.
I don't want to store any more pain. Ever. It only makes the losses were difficult. Like you, I have known my share of losses. But they won't be stored for a time when it is safe to remember. It is safe to have all of these feelings.
Now.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Thoughts
Jessy was quiet last night. This morning it was hard to arouse her. She finally stood up and came to the door. Alone. There was a sadness on her face I had not seen. Until now.
She coughed last night and it has continued intermittently this morning. Walking is becoming more difficult for her. Her life and Molly's were contained. They never ran free, were always secured either in the gated back yard, anchored in the car or on a leash. They did run free in the woods where I live with me close by. Always.
The wood floors near the garage door reflect Jessy's competitive ways. Deep ruts, almost looking like a bowling alley. They are noticeable. Part of our history together. But that is what a home is. It reveals the natures of the people who live in it. Their passions, likes, dislikes, interests. For now, I just want to love the last of my dogs. Fully. The stools reveal puppy teeth marks from Molly's first few months. I adore them and wouldn't...won't change them.
Jessy has been coughing this morning. Her breathing becomes more labored and her oversized heart pounds. Until she falls asleep and then it is barely noticeable. Sometimes I think she is like a bear beginning hibernation. But I know better.
I'll see how she does this morning. I may even call the veterinarian if the breathing challenges continue. She is under a lot of stress having witnessed her sister's seizures. Molly's passing yesterday. She is sad. Lonely. Lost.
I've been thinking a lot about being lost recently. Being in unfamiliar territory. Last night, I dreamed about a burglar. People breaking into my home. There were several burglaries in my dream and I came face-to-face with all of the burglars. None of them were violent. They just wanted things. They even talked about them. Why they had to look outside of themselves for what they could access within.
We all want things. We fail to appreciate, have gratitude for all we receive. It isn't in things, though we do enjoy them, but it is more about the people in our lives who offer us so many learning experiences. They make us examine how we are. Come clean with ourselves about what is really going on.
Lately, I have thought about whether I feel safe now. My dogs were always a warning system. A thermostat. A reminder. But the dogs were not in the dream. Though sadness about losing them was heavy on my sleeping body.
Calls from three New Hampshire friends last night made me reflect. Maybe that is why memories of my eighteen months in the apartment in New Hampshire were so vivid. Delicious. They were wonderful memories, highlighting the best of our experience. Friendships.
As I awakened this morning, I thought about all the ways we feel and don't feel safe. What we fear and the journeys necessary to move beyond the fear. Holding my dying dog was none of that. It was an extraordinary moment to love and honor her. To ease her passing. I am in gratitude for all of that.
I continue to be amazed at the comments left for me in e-mails, friends calling on the phone, text messages and Facebook comments both as public and private messages. Endearing ones.
We are lucky to be in a community of lifetime friends from all over North America. Maybe it is the stage we are in where we have the time, take the time to connect more with our hearts. The heartfelt comments and friendship are so appreciated.
Thank you all for being there for me.
She coughed last night and it has continued intermittently this morning. Walking is becoming more difficult for her. Her life and Molly's were contained. They never ran free, were always secured either in the gated back yard, anchored in the car or on a leash. They did run free in the woods where I live with me close by. Always.
The wood floors near the garage door reflect Jessy's competitive ways. Deep ruts, almost looking like a bowling alley. They are noticeable. Part of our history together. But that is what a home is. It reveals the natures of the people who live in it. Their passions, likes, dislikes, interests. For now, I just want to love the last of my dogs. Fully. The stools reveal puppy teeth marks from Molly's first few months. I adore them and wouldn't...won't change them.
Jessy has been coughing this morning. Her breathing becomes more labored and her oversized heart pounds. Until she falls asleep and then it is barely noticeable. Sometimes I think she is like a bear beginning hibernation. But I know better.
I'll see how she does this morning. I may even call the veterinarian if the breathing challenges continue. She is under a lot of stress having witnessed her sister's seizures. Molly's passing yesterday. She is sad. Lonely. Lost.
I've been thinking a lot about being lost recently. Being in unfamiliar territory. Last night, I dreamed about a burglar. People breaking into my home. There were several burglaries in my dream and I came face-to-face with all of the burglars. None of them were violent. They just wanted things. They even talked about them. Why they had to look outside of themselves for what they could access within.
We all want things. We fail to appreciate, have gratitude for all we receive. It isn't in things, though we do enjoy them, but it is more about the people in our lives who offer us so many learning experiences. They make us examine how we are. Come clean with ourselves about what is really going on.
Lately, I have thought about whether I feel safe now. My dogs were always a warning system. A thermostat. A reminder. But the dogs were not in the dream. Though sadness about losing them was heavy on my sleeping body.
Calls from three New Hampshire friends last night made me reflect. Maybe that is why memories of my eighteen months in the apartment in New Hampshire were so vivid. Delicious. They were wonderful memories, highlighting the best of our experience. Friendships.
As I awakened this morning, I thought about all the ways we feel and don't feel safe. What we fear and the journeys necessary to move beyond the fear. Holding my dying dog was none of that. It was an extraordinary moment to love and honor her. To ease her passing. I am in gratitude for all of that.
I continue to be amazed at the comments left for me in e-mails, friends calling on the phone, text messages and Facebook comments both as public and private messages. Endearing ones.
We are lucky to be in a community of lifetime friends from all over North America. Maybe it is the stage we are in where we have the time, take the time to connect more with our hearts. The heartfelt comments and friendship are so appreciated.
Thank you all for being there for me.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Elusive Comfort
Tired and drained I thought I would go to sleep early. I even took Jessy into bed with me. Her breathing is loud and labored. In time, she settled down. I thought she was going to have a heart attack her chest was pounding so. Then she drifted off to sleep. Off alone. Not the way she is usually cuddled under my arm. But then, it has been a few years since I allowed her in bed.
She can't get up or down easily anymore. Mostly, that is why I put her and her sister in the utility room. I just sent her outside and now she is fast asleep in the utility room. On the bare floor. She didn't want her bed tonight. She does that often. I suspect it is because her chest is so large now, that she just can't find a comfortable position.
Like Jessy, I want comfort and it won't come. When a friend called today, she told me she would come to the veterinarians with me. This is a woman who also lost her husband a while ago. She mourns about all of them. Still.
We don't ever get over loss. We do learn to deal with it. To feel it fully and let go. To feel all of the things we feel in relationships - the happy and the sad. The times we threw up our hands and couldn't get where we wanted. I am learning to let go.
I couldn't help my dog. I can't help this one. I can't stop the pain with my children or my friends. I can be a witness to their life. Maybe in the end, that is all we need to do.
For as long as I can remember, I have been self-reliant. When we are young, in our twenties and thirties we don't think we are. Then all of a sudden we get it. We know we can manage because we have been doing that all of our lives. Self-reliance means you never ask for help. It doesn't occur to you.
I find comfort in nature. With my friends. Holding hands. Cooking.Talking. But I can't talk anymore tonight. I can't cry anymore. I can let all of this settle. Comfort comes when we allow it.
She can't get up or down easily anymore. Mostly, that is why I put her and her sister in the utility room. I just sent her outside and now she is fast asleep in the utility room. On the bare floor. She didn't want her bed tonight. She does that often. I suspect it is because her chest is so large now, that she just can't find a comfortable position.
Like Jessy, I want comfort and it won't come. When a friend called today, she told me she would come to the veterinarians with me. This is a woman who also lost her husband a while ago. She mourns about all of them. Still.
We don't ever get over loss. We do learn to deal with it. To feel it fully and let go. To feel all of the things we feel in relationships - the happy and the sad. The times we threw up our hands and couldn't get where we wanted. I am learning to let go.
I couldn't help my dog. I can't help this one. I can't stop the pain with my children or my friends. I can be a witness to their life. Maybe in the end, that is all we need to do.
For as long as I can remember, I have been self-reliant. When we are young, in our twenties and thirties we don't think we are. Then all of a sudden we get it. We know we can manage because we have been doing that all of our lives. Self-reliance means you never ask for help. It doesn't occur to you.
I find comfort in nature. With my friends. Holding hands. Cooking.Talking. But I can't talk anymore tonight. I can't cry anymore. I can let all of this settle. Comfort comes when we allow it.
My Molly: Rest In Peace
Molly knows. Each time she walks around the house, sniffing things that have always fascinated her, I know it might be the last time. It has been hard to separate her from her sister, Jessy, so that I can just focus on her. Jessy knows. Jessy went into bed early this morning. Molly stood beside me with her head dropped.
I took her alone for a walk up the hill. She was having trouble with her breathing. It has gotten worse. She walked down the road and I expected her to keep going, to pass our house. She has never passed it before. She didn't this time. This was home. The only home she ever knew.
New Hampshire was both good and hard on her. She loved being around other animals. She missed her back yard, the flowers around our home, the smells. I knew I had to bring her home. She was an amazing good trooper when we traveled. Great kenneling, too.
She walks into her bed and was in the room a few minutes. She lost her balance once. Had a little trouble breathing. Molly stepped outside the room looking to see if I was still in the kitchen and then she returned to her bed. I followed her.
I laid down beside her and Jessy, my head tucked into their separate pillows. Jessy was lying across both pillows as she usually does. Molly was tucked close to the washing machine. She couldn't stop licking me.
Once again and twice even Molly came out to check on me. She just stared. There were no more words to be shared. We had shared her lifetime. Said our goodbyes.
One more time I carried her into the cargo area in the back of the Impreza. Hooked her in so she would be safe. We took a long ride through town. The I carried her out of the car. She sniffed everything outside the vet's office. One last time.
Loving something is knowing when it is time to let them go. Rest in peace.
Peace. Always.
I took her alone for a walk up the hill. She was having trouble with her breathing. It has gotten worse. She walked down the road and I expected her to keep going, to pass our house. She has never passed it before. She didn't this time. This was home. The only home she ever knew.
New Hampshire was both good and hard on her. She loved being around other animals. She missed her back yard, the flowers around our home, the smells. I knew I had to bring her home. She was an amazing good trooper when we traveled. Great kenneling, too.
She walks into her bed and was in the room a few minutes. She lost her balance once. Had a little trouble breathing. Molly stepped outside the room looking to see if I was still in the kitchen and then she returned to her bed. I followed her.
I laid down beside her and Jessy, my head tucked into their separate pillows. Jessy was lying across both pillows as she usually does. Molly was tucked close to the washing machine. She couldn't stop licking me.
Once again and twice even Molly came out to check on me. She just stared. There were no more words to be shared. We had shared her lifetime. Said our goodbyes.
One more time I carried her into the cargo area in the back of the Impreza. Hooked her in so she would be safe. We took a long ride through town. The I carried her out of the car. She sniffed everything outside the vet's office. One last time.
Loving something is knowing when it is time to let them go. Rest in peace.
Peace. Always.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Soon
Last evening and night were heavy. A late phone call from a friend with an older cocker spaniel was soothing. She knows Molly. And me. My daughter's lovely mother-in-law. I call her friend. Our family's are entwined.
I don't want to get out of bed. Tired. Weary. Knowing what this day will bring. It is an exceedingly long walk to the utility room where Molly has slept for a lot of her life. It wasn't long ago that she and Jessy slept in my bed. I loved feeling their warmth. They would sleep on either side of me. Always so tight that I was nearly in a straight jacket.
As I find the way to my dogs, I notice both are standing up. A relief of sorts. Molly is unstable on her feet now. She carefully takes the stairs ahead of me. She wants this. I want her to have whatever she needs to ease her passage. Outside she sniffs the perimeter of the yard. As though for one last time. She loved being out here. Only the other day she caught the ball. Oh, how she loved playing catch. She could play it for hours. Rarely missed the ball.
Her thirst is excessive. She knows. She is nervous and I must be the calm one. My sadness is more than I can manage. But I will manage this as I have in the past. Molly was my heart. Is.
Our time together is drifting away. I see all the ways I tried to control things in the past. I can't control my heart. The vet believes that other major organs are failing as revealed by laboratory blood testing. She thinks this is a brain tumor. That she will continue to seizure, continue to damage her major organs.
Molly licks Jessy as she has done for twelve years. But Jessy knows. She separates herself on the carpet by the back door. She knows she will be alone.
Soon.
I don't want to get out of bed. Tired. Weary. Knowing what this day will bring. It is an exceedingly long walk to the utility room where Molly has slept for a lot of her life. It wasn't long ago that she and Jessy slept in my bed. I loved feeling their warmth. They would sleep on either side of me. Always so tight that I was nearly in a straight jacket.
As I find the way to my dogs, I notice both are standing up. A relief of sorts. Molly is unstable on her feet now. She carefully takes the stairs ahead of me. She wants this. I want her to have whatever she needs to ease her passage. Outside she sniffs the perimeter of the yard. As though for one last time. She loved being out here. Only the other day she caught the ball. Oh, how she loved playing catch. She could play it for hours. Rarely missed the ball.
Her thirst is excessive. She knows. She is nervous and I must be the calm one. My sadness is more than I can manage. But I will manage this as I have in the past. Molly was my heart. Is.
Our time together is drifting away. I see all the ways I tried to control things in the past. I can't control my heart. The vet believes that other major organs are failing as revealed by laboratory blood testing. She thinks this is a brain tumor. That she will continue to seizure, continue to damage her major organs.
Molly licks Jessy as she has done for twelve years. But Jessy knows. She separates herself on the carpet by the back door. She knows she will be alone.
Soon.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
On Surrendering
Tears fall gently this morning. Molly, my beloved dog, had another seizure. At 6:34 a.m. I was about to take her and Jessy to the bathroom. Molly was listing to the right, her mouth foaming and fluttering. I stand at the door. Helpless. Terrified. Sad.
Holding her for ten minutes or what seemed like eternity, I couldn't stop the seizure. A rhythmic pounding on the floor, she was sliding everywhere. Her life felt like it was leaving. I know it is time to prepare and I don't want her to go. Not now. Never.
I can hardly write this as I cry. Everything is so temporary. Joan Baez sings in the background. She feels our pain. Jessy, her sister is lost. She knows our time together is short. Three senior women. All going through their lifespans. Together. So much to be grateful for, so much love in our home. So many memories. I love them all.
Molly now sleeps in a crate at the animal hospital. Soon the vet will see her and her blood will be drawn. Some time tomorrow I will learn the results. Two seizures since Saturday. She was my healthy dog. My dear, dear friend. She still is. She will always be. She understands.
Molly is the family matriarch. She sets the tone and we know when she is unhappy. She keeps Jessy in line. Today, she kept me in line. Kneeling close to her, I told her how much I love her, that she will always be in my heart. Outcome is outcome. I guess. Numbers. It all comes down to numbers. But her life is more than that.
I don't know what the numbers will be. I can't live on them. Nor can she. I will know when it is time. Time to part. It is getting closer.
Love is ultimately letting go. Loving enough, to let go. The tears won't stop. Not today.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uCehZkO7Fw
Holding her for ten minutes or what seemed like eternity, I couldn't stop the seizure. A rhythmic pounding on the floor, she was sliding everywhere. Her life felt like it was leaving. I know it is time to prepare and I don't want her to go. Not now. Never.
I can hardly write this as I cry. Everything is so temporary. Joan Baez sings in the background. She feels our pain. Jessy, her sister is lost. She knows our time together is short. Three senior women. All going through their lifespans. Together. So much to be grateful for, so much love in our home. So many memories. I love them all.
Molly now sleeps in a crate at the animal hospital. Soon the vet will see her and her blood will be drawn. Some time tomorrow I will learn the results. Two seizures since Saturday. She was my healthy dog. My dear, dear friend. She still is. She will always be. She understands.
Molly is the family matriarch. She sets the tone and we know when she is unhappy. She keeps Jessy in line. Today, she kept me in line. Kneeling close to her, I told her how much I love her, that she will always be in my heart. Outcome is outcome. I guess. Numbers. It all comes down to numbers. But her life is more than that.
I don't know what the numbers will be. I can't live on them. Nor can she. I will know when it is time. Time to part. It is getting closer.
Love is ultimately letting go. Loving enough, to let go. The tears won't stop. Not today.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uCehZkO7Fw
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