Tag Archives: life struggles

Remaking…

Pause.

Projects.

We are at home. Like many of you, really at home.

Perhaps for the first time in ages.

At our house that has meant projects.

House projects for my hubby.

Mostly writing for me.

This last week, I took on a project to remake an old family dresser.

The chest is sturdy, but made from an era when all wood furniture was dark.

Dark has become so foreboding.

It was time for a change.

I had a plan, however when I started sanding the finish from the old piece of furniture, the wood spoke something different to me.

Plan abandoned.

I kept on working.

As I was doing the finish coat, I found my mind wandering to memories of my father.

He was the one who introduced me to wood and with great supervision, would allow me to work with him in the basement.

Those thoughts bought a smile to mind.

For those of you who know me, there aren’t many times I speak of my dad.

My memories aren’t very pleasant.

In the last few years, I’ve been learning about how we can remake our memories.

Instead of replaying in your mind the same sad stories, stop those thoughts and replace them with more pleasant memories.

I’ve been working on that memory project for a few years.

It doesn’t change any realities, but it changes what my first thoughts are when thinking about my father.

This weekend wrapped up a remaking project and contributed to an ongoing remaking project.

It’s never too late to work on remaking…

The Virus…

I’ve been “Writing Through the Pandemic.” It’s been an interesting process which sometimes surprises me at what surfaces. This was one of those surprises. You can find some these writing on my blog under the following menu options: “Writing Categories” and then select “Pandemic”. Feel free to leave your comments or write your own thoughts.

Together, we’ll get through this!

When released to be free after centuries of being locked within only one species, I finally had the opportunity for my greatest prize. I jumped from animal to man, not sure what would happen to me. Would I live in a different host; would I thrive or die? I made the leap, and things started to happen. I discovered I could live in a man. And man because of his movement and social interactions with others brought me in contact with other men. Oh, and how easy it was to jump from one human to another. At first I made these movements undetected. Even the man didn’t know I was now part of him, yet that didn’t feed my growing feelings of independence and importance. I found if I remained silent within the man, I could multiply within him and others. Then, after I had grown within humans, I made myself known. I learned a lot about man during the weeks when I was just growing strong and multiplying within him. I learned he likes to be in control of his life and things around him. Soon I revealed myself. I attacked his body. I made him ache; I made him cough until his breathing became difficult. Finally, he sought help from other men who thought they had the power to heal. Some of these healers helped, but many of them were unaware I had already invaded their precious bodies as well. I continued to grow and gain power. I was unaware of how mobile man was and how vast the space I would be able to control. Yes. I was in control, invading human bodies in many places. Ok, so some recovered, but many died. It was because of me, because of the power I wielded.

Now I look at man, racing time in an effort to control my growth; trying to limit my reach for power and growth. Oh, did I say power? Yes, I can understand how a man comes to desire power. When you get attention, it feeds something within and you want more. So, yes, I want more power. I want more recognition of how impactful I am. See, over there—entire cities have shut down. Who has the power now? Oh, latest news flash—countries have closed their borders. Man’s movement is limited; no longer can he roam the earth at will. 

I heard some scientists are studying me. What do they hope to find? How to become as powerful as me? Suggestions include they are looking for an immunization to neutralize me. Really? They think they can do that. We’ll see…

A Nurse, I’m NOT!

As a young child, I idolized my second cousin Joan. She was a nurse. I was sure I wanted to be a nurse, like her. I stuck by that dream until I was 16. Something happened during the year to make me realize I had no tolerance for seeing others in pain, or even seeing things I perceived as being painful.

Over time my sensitivity to issues requiring medical attention increased. As I had children, I could attend to their cuts and bruises as needed, if no one else was around. If some other able body were in the vicinity, I would get hot, and then dizzy, rendering me worthless in dealing with the problem. The other adult would dress the injury. With things bandaged up, I could attend to their other needs.

Fast forward, now I’m home with a husband requiring attention to a surgical wound. YIKES! I’m able to get the initial bandage off. But the gauze around the drain tube is stuck. I feel myself getting hot, and my head getting lighter. I back off and sit down.

The good news is, my being a wuss about medical things is no surprise and we both laugh about it. He references how funny he thought it was listening to the doc telling me the things I would have to do at home.

After taking a break, I get the old bandage removed. Photo the site and the pictures off to the doc. Hubby is enjoying the break from having is neck all bandaged. I’m not enjoying his freedom. The sight is unsettling for me. We work together and get the bandage back around the drainage tube.

The phone rings. Doctor’s office calling. He has to take this call. Then he asks me to make some calendar adjustments. When I’m done, he’s completed his taping up of the new bandage.

Why this happens I don’t understand! Intellectually I understand what needs to be done and why. Yet when it’s time to take action, my mind doesn’t respond the way I need it to.

 

 

Mermaid Girl…..

I thought I gave birth to a baby girl. We were to live as a family, on the land. I thought she was mine. I soon learned this was not true. This child displayed a rebellious and defiant spirit as out of control as the ocean in a huge storm, against anything that had the scent of tradition, authority or rules. Occasionally, I would have fleeting glimpses of the daughter I thought was mine. And then they would be gone! Hers became a dance of seeing how far she could stray from the line. The collateral damage and destruction of those she either hurt or destroyed in her dance of defiance is huge. Every time I look, the circle becomes larger. It includes people both close to her and those just touched by the fringes of her life, and people whom she once charmed and has since grew tired of. Then awhile back we vacationed with her at the beach. Those few short days were a gift. Time spent together was pleasant and devoid of the stress I associated with her. I’ve come to realize there is something about the ocean that seems to calm the rage she has against life and civilization. She is back inland again, and the glimpses I saw of her at the ocean have vanished again. Is the ocean her true home and not this land the rest of us live on? Perhaps she was not a baby girl, but a baby mermaid instead.

These thoughts have been triggered by both a conversation with my local pastor when he asked me to think of a time when she was innocent before all the problems began (which brought to mind a photo of her sitting on the beach when she was about 3 or so with a white suit with red and blue polka dots) and a conversation with my husband pointing out the vacation trip we took with this child was really a gift. We spent almost a full week together and it was no stress, no drama, no difficult times, just a very pleasant time together. I’m glad I was allowed to frame this vacation into the thought of a ‘normal gift’ with this child because my life history with her does not allow me many of those memories. Somehow those two images merged into the Mermaid Girl – I think that may be her!