Week Ending 3/19

 Happy Spring! 

OK, it was snowing here yesterday morning and it's in the mid-20s currently but it's Spring, damn it! :)

I meant to post something yesterday, but I crashed hard. So you're getting my weekly post a day late. 

Last week was kind of up and down. I commented to Juno that the problem with having several good days is that it makes the bad days very frustrating. I have things I want to do. I just can't sometimes. You'd think I'd be used to that by now. Spoiler: I'm not.

I've been trying to keep something like a normal schedule... up by 8:00am, do stuff, crash whenever, lay down and do restful stuff, in bed by 8:00pm, read, asleep by 10:00. The trouble lately seems to be that when I crash hard I end up dozing off in the afternoon or evening. 

The problem with crashing hard and falling asleep in the evening is that I wake up around bedtime. OK, so I woke up tired... I'm always tired. It makes it hard to tell if this is "tired and I should try to get to sleep" or "tired, but since I just woke up I should do something." I ended up getting up and reading for a bit. Works but it throws things off. 

I'm not sure if I should give up on the schedule... it's not like I have to be anywhere most days... or just accept that sometimes it's going to get thrown off. Probably the second. Everything says having a schedule is good for the health.

Well, I'll see how this week goes.

Onward

Gramma Cathy

 "Christmas, bah humbug... get me a virgin, a knife and an oak tree." 

- attributed to my Gramma Cathy.

I was thinking about her last night and that quote came to mind. She'd been reading about druids and become quite enamored of them. It stuck in my mind as kind a defining quote for me.

Exiled her in the Midwest, it may seem strange to people around me that my gramma had no use for church and clergy... but she didn't. She never really talked, in my hearing, about religion or matters spiritual... and yet she had such a strong spiritual presence. 

I remember... when I was kid she and my Grampa Ted lived in an old house in Lincoln, Vermont. It was a simple place - classic New England home with white clapboard, with a red door. It was probably quite small though in my memories it's huge on the inside, with little doors and odd corners that opened into new rooms and spaces. I stay there a lot during the summers and slept over many times. I remember her room, which I'd share with her. It was a broad, open space with two big beds and a little sitting area. The ceiling was open, up through the old wood-frame rafters to the roof high, high above. 

I remember one night looking up and that space among the rafters was alive with Darkness... Darkness as a living presence, blocking out the light, filling that space like black water, silent and full of malice... and then my Gramma Cathy came in and it was just night and the shadows among the wooden rafters. The Darkness could not endure in her presence.

It's easy to imagine her as a smiling, cheerful white haired lady... and she was, but she also wasn't.

She'd endured abuse as a child. She couldn't fathom why people couldn't see that she as a mean, ugly, wicked woman. You couldn't explain to her that she was beautiful and good, full of brightness and joy and bone deep strength. 

The truth is, she was fierce and she could be mean. She used to drink too much. She used to smoke too much. She lied like a snake, usually about being fine. She worked herself too hard, trying to control her space, and she wouldn't take help from anyone unless it was on her terms.

The truth is, she was bright and beautiful and good. Strangers on the street would open up to her, telling her their life's story and unburdening their joys and fears. She never understood why. Never understood that she would watch them with her warm, dark eyes and smile and be kind. 

In her wake, the world was a brighter place. Every life she touched, even in passing, was bettered for it.

The Darkness could not endure in her presence.

Week Ending 3/12

 So, I think this week was spent mostly paying back the energy from last week. 

Much lower energy, much harder crashes... still good days and bad days, just the good days weren't quite as good. The bad days were about the same.

Very tired now. Resting, reading, not doing much else today.

Onward

Week Ending 3/5

 This has been a really weird week. (Am I saying that a lot? I think I am but, hey, it's true.)

Energy-wise this has been one of the best weeks I've had in a long time. I've managed to get models assembled and painted. I've binged watched season seven of Law and Order. (What? I'm feeling nostalgic.) I really feel like I've done a lot.

Emotionally, this week has been a train-wreck. I got into a huge fight with the teenager over him looking for a job (or rather him not looking for a job). I've been irritable, on edge and downright fly-off-the-handle furious. I've felt like I was walking around on eggshells lest I make myself angry and completely lose it. I probably completely lost it at least once.

It took a kind comment from an internet friend over on The Sims forums to remind of the obvious... 

My Gramma Cathy died. 

Now, I'm pretty sure at least some of the (max. four) people who read this blog are a little sick of me bring that up. To them I say - deal with it. Because it turns out to be a pretty big deal.

My Gramma Cathy meant a lot to me and I'm actually really messed by her death. Irritable, on edge, fly-off-the-handle furious, walking on eggshells, messed up.

Funny thing... the first time I admitted this out loud to myself... well, I didn't feel better but I felt... more at peace with it. The walking on eggshells thing, not so much the last couple of days. I've admitted to myself 1) that it happened and 2) that I'm no OK with it. 

Recognizing how emotionally screwed up I am is the first step on the road...

Onward.

Week Ending 2/26

 I'm still dealing with the passing of my Gramma Cathy. She was a remarkable woman who had a huge impact on my life. I have many happy memories of spending summer days at her house in Lincoln, Vermont... the smell of her herb garden, the sounds of the brook as it rushed over the rocks of the little swimming hole, the taste of warm caraway chews. While her passing does not come as a shock, it's still one that I struggle with. I'm not as OK as I pretend to be.

 Health wise, this has been a pretty good week - good days and bad days just like always, but the good days last a little longer and the bad days aren't are short as they were. At the same time, when I get tired, I seem to be even more tired than before. It gets harder to think and to concentrate. It's frustrating too, because I have things I want to do and I just... can't.

 I know this is all hard on Juno. She's giving me so much and I can't thank her enough for all the support she gives me, every day. I know I ask too much of her and I'm trying not to. She's great.

 Well, on the positive side, I'm taking advantage of those good days. I've gotten models painted and new models assembled. It's fun and relaxing. I'm also starting back up on playing The Sims for my Wyrd Girls story. Might have a new chapter for that soon-ish.

Onward...

In Memorium

Catherine Pawlowski (1925-2023)

The old shed smelled of newly tilled earth, old wood and green growing things. Warm summer sunlight streamed through the old wooden door, its slats warped and brittle with time. From down the hill, out of sight, came the rushing sound of the brook as it danced over the old rocks, the bones of the ancient mountain which loomed over the green of the trees, quiet and constant.

In the little garden at the foot of the shed my grandmother puttered. The sun gleamed on her snow white hair as her wrinkled, nut-brown hands set the last stones in place among the whirls of grass, flowers and herbs.

“One stone,” she said, her smile lively in her warm face, “set just so. Perfect.”

The wind sighed through, carrying the scents of flowers and herbs, the gentle agreement of the living world, the dancing stream, and the quiet mountain.

Perfect.

 

Week Ending 2/12

 It's been a week. I haven't been sleeping well. My wrist is killing me. I've got some family stuff going on that I'm not ready to talk about... and, did I mention my wrist is killing me.

On the plus side, my lawyer finally browbeat the insurance company into actually coughing up the money they owe me... so I can pay off the hospital for the hideous MRI that didn't really tell us anything. Sigh.

OK, so I'm not in a good mood just now. See paragraph one if curious as to why. :)

Ah well, there are good days and bad days. The best thing about bad days is they end and eventually we get the good days back. Some times this takes longer than other times but the wheel turns. 

Onward