Tuesday, June 26, 2012

I'm Pissed ...

I know in England to say one is "pissed" is to admit to being a bit inebriated.  But in Maine it means one is ... what?  Angry?  Frustrated?  Angry and frustrated and overwhelmed?That's the one.

I'm pissed ....

... that Jim died so damn early and left me here.

... that I have to start this all over again with no instruction manual to consult.

... that I miss that man so much.

... that sometimes I find myself falling right back into the same old patterns.  The colors seem to have changed, confusing me enough to think that maybe it is a new pattern.  But it's not.  It's just a different colored one.

... that everything has changed and nothing has changed.

... that I may never be able to retire and "live the good life" ... in Maine ... "the way life should be"... with health care.

... that I'm in a funk again and this time it's the color RED - angry and infected.

... that I'm feeling more code-pendant than inde-pendant.

... that I have, yet, another dear one who is fighting her personal war with cancer.  She lives in New Zealand and thus I feel even more hobbled to change this or to help in any way ... so I tell her she's in my thoughts ... if a thought counts ... and I send her all my love over the thousands of miles of deep blue.

... that it's raining and my brain feels moldy.

... that everything is gray and grayer today.  My crows are black ... I need a Cockatoo, a Quetzal, a Cardinal ... a flash of dazzling color and magic.

... that I can't feel the magic today.

... that I react so badly to black fly bites - which dominate the north woods of Maine this time of year - and all these bites are still itching days later ... angry, hard, sore, raised welts that bleed when I scratch the hell out of them but, as good as it feels to do this, it offers no relief ... all this from a bug the size of this exclamation point!

... that my dearest little 4-legged friend is getting too old to run with me, and so I must find the ambition to go it alone this gray morning.

... that I look into the mirror and wish I could rearrange the picture ... like a Miss Potato Head ... give me new body parts.  Right.  Like this would make me happy.

... that nothing can really "make me happy" ... except my own ability to change this mood.

... because I seem to have lost that little thing ... ability to ... this morning.

... that confessing all this may drag some of you down ... but it may have helped me just a wee bit.


But I'm still capable of saying this ... and meaning it ...

... Loving you all back,

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

You may have said ....

... "I can't live without you" .... but I have learned you can, and you will.  You will continue to put one foot in front of the other and to watch another sunrise.  You may rage, you may cry, you may feel horribly broken - but  you will live without that person who has left you.

... "I can't imagine my life without you" ....  but I have learned it changes, for sure.  There is that hole, that scar in your heart.  The unimaginable becomes a reality and you learn to accept, slowly, perhaps begrudgingly, but you come to accept and to imagine again.

And hopefully you will come to understand that nothing is forever, including us fragile humans.  We never know how much time we may have on this earth; there are no guarantees in any of this.  And with this understanding you may begin to live a bit more on the edge, to understand that grabbing for your passion is more important than grabbing for what is safe.

 Because you have felt the loss of someone you loved so deeply that to be without them in this world leaves you broken ... you learn to really live.  Because you must live without - you learn to really live.  You learn to make that change that you felt couldn't be made. You learn you don't want to have regrets when it comes to be your turn.  You understand that what you have is right now - that your work place will survive a day without you if you must go climb a mountain.  Call in well.

You understand intimately that there may not be tomorrow or next year, so you do it now.  Kick off those comfortable shoes and dance barefoot in the mud.  Throw off your cape of heavy responsibilities for just a few hours and listen to the oceans rythmic music.  Watch your child pick dandelions.  Catch a falling star.

Perhaps you'll realize not all of us may live long enough to retire ... why are we saving for it?  Why are we waiting/hoping/looking forward to doing all those things we want to do THEN?

Why not NOW?

"No one has ever said on their death bed 'I wish I had spent more time at the office'".

I have said, "I can't live without you" ... and I have learned that I can.

Loving you all back,