There's been too much drama. I find myself dealing, every day, with hurt feelings, in appropriate language (I have kids as young as 7 in my guild. They don't need to be exposed to sexual innuendo even if they can't read it.), people wanting to do their own thing, people wanting others to help them because it seems someone else gets help all the time. (sigh), in short, whenever you get more than 5 disparate people in a group, there will always be minor misunderstandings. And I'm as guilty as the next person in the miscommunication business. I may know English but there are times when it fails me completely.
As my marriage felt apart, the counselor I was seeing admonished me to not rely on others to lift myself out of the rut. There were stages to walking down this road. 1) You see the pot hole, you fall into the pot hole. 2) You see the pot hole, you try to walk around but fall in anyway. 3) You see the pot hole, try to walk around, fall in but try to get out. 4) You see the pot hole, try to walk around, fall in, try to get out and almost make it. 5) You see the pot hole, try to walk around, fall in, try to get out and succeed. 6) You see the pot hole, try to walk around and make it. 7) You see the pot hole and realize it's not as big as you thought so you easily walk around it. And 8) You go down another street.
I'm a very image oriented person. I need the analogy of images to move myself forward. I truly felt and feel now, that I fell into a pot hole. Some times, when I get up in the morning, I can see the hole and do make an effort to walk around it, but can't. Close friends know I have been feeling as if I shoulder way too much, whether real or imagined. I've been told to walk away but where do I go? Right now, this is the street on which I find myself.
"Turn on some music," I've been told. I do and have. "Go read. You like to read," says another. I have been working on the huge stack of periodicals on the end table in the living room. I slept quite peacefully last night until Betsy started yeowling. There was a gentle rain although accompanied by lightning. It didn't rain in, just hit the window sill. I was almost teleported back in time to the sound of rain on the tin roof of the porch of the farmhouse where I grew up. If ever there was a more soothing sound, I have not found it.
I'm not eating other than a bit at breakfast and lunch. I come home and food has no appeal. Yet, there is the stirring that having company will break the malaise because I want to show off. I want the blueberry cobbler to be the best they have ever had. I even discovered frozen blueberries in the back of the freezer. I could make it tonight, but it would be a wee bit soggy by Saturday. Cobbler is best served warm within an hour of making. Oh! Gotta order the Oberweise ice cream.
Betsy is very, very clingy and very, very upset tonight. It's going to be a very long night if I have to put her in the kitchen because she's pacing and meowing. I keep finding ants in various rooms. They must be living in my walls. That's depressing. I did something to my left knee. My mobility is 70% and kneeling to clean is painful. How will I get the bathroom to my specifications? I sent the dating service a comment on the last guy they sent me. I can't get in touch with him and he's not called me. I give up. The drive to find even a companion is a dead-end road. My next door neighbor is a lesbian, nice gal. She had her girlfriend over for dinner tonight. I felt like putting up a sign, "No PDA's within 150' of my property." I have birds singing to each other outside my window. Squirrels chasing each other in the back yard. Everything seems to be pairing up. I know it's my mood and I could go to a movie on my own, but that feels like reinforcing my singleness.
I went out to get the mail and next to the mailbox was this.
It's a stargazer lily. I had planted them years ago. Sometimes they come up. Sometimes they don't. The front planting beds are horribly overgrown and need a thorough digging up. I don't have the energy and my allergies this year would make the pollen from the weeds a huge trigger. I would cough for hours after weeding. The little I've done in the back has left my chest aching from the cough. I'm tempted to cut it and bring it inside. I love these. Their smell. Their majesty. I stood there and looked at it for a good while.
Is this the ladder out of the pot hole? Right now I just want something to make me smile.
Beverage: Flat Coke
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