Last Day In May

The weather on this Memorial Day Monday was perfect - dry, breezy, warm, and sunny. It was ideal for drying clothes on the line ~

cleaning all the vehicles, inside and out ~

putting screens in the windows ~

and taking a nap under the steps ~

This is the year that Ken and I figure out how to do holidays with just the two of us. So far, so good.

High Tide

Today I went to Popham Beach with a friend. It's the fourth time I've been this year, more than I've been all told in the last three years. We didn't go to sit and sun but to walk and talk. When we arrived it was high tide. The island in the background, which is a walkable distance away, was separated from us by the ocean ~

We had to wait for the waves to recede ~

before we walked the miles of beach ~

and remembered to look up at the sky ~

I have always loved the ocean, but I have never felt the pull of the sea that I now feel.

Once Upon A Mattress

Now positioned across the room from the sewing machine, highlighted in my last post, is the daybed ~

which is significant because we now have an official guest room. And because I moved it by myself!

This daybed is a twin size, until it's paired with the trundle from underneath when it becomes a king-sized bed. [The trundle is still downstairs because that I cannot manage by myself.]

For the last three years this was the only piece of furniture in a small room at the foot of the stairs, convenient for guests but not private as a pass-through room with no door.

My youngest will still use this blue bedroom when he's home to visit, and it will also host others who come to stay.

We have reached another stage in the transformation of the house to accommodate visits of grown children.

Next up: Futon needed for sitting room downstairs to provide still more sleeping space.

Note that Leo likes this room, too, and especially enjoys curling up on the fluffy area rug.

Rainbow Squared

More than 25 years ago Ken salvaged a sewing machine cabinet from the landfill. He brought it home, sanded it down, and refinished it. The cabinet has a hole in the top where an older model sewing machine would have been attached to hinges. To accommodate my machine he refinished a board, complete with a groove to hold loose pins and needles. In my new space I have room to fully extend the top, which gives me plenty of room to work ~

on big pieces, like my daughter's quilt, which I earlier showed at its beginning ~

The back is big squares of rainbow ~

which seem to complement the circles of rainbow on the front ~

Finished, this quilt is ready for its new home.

Step, Step, Step

Twenty-four years ago this spring, at age 30, I was very sick. In general terms it could be called a nervous breakdown, a crisis of mental health that had been coming on for years and could no longer be contained. My family doctor wanted to hospitalize me. A psychiatrist wanted to prescribe lithium. I chose option #3, which was to start seeing a counselor on a regular basis.

It was hard work and things got worse before they got better. During the worst of it Ken got the job he has now. Almost immediately he had to start traveling for work and was often gone for days at a time.

My mother traveled 600 miles for a visit. She said she had never seen me like that and didn't know what to do to help. She stayed a week and then went home.

I had two young children to care for and a house to manage while I figured out how to remake the life I had into one I could live with. That year on mother's day I sobbed to Ken that if I didn't get better I knew I would lose my kids. I kept working to get well because of my family. I found a new way to live because my counselor convinced me I was worth the effort.

These memories flooded back to me last night....

This week I am finishing up a project.

Last week, over the course of three days, I worked thirty-four hours on a project. It was physically demanding and mentally challenging, but it's something I am good at and can do in less time than most people I know. I volunteered for the work because I had a good idea of what needed to be done. The results have been received fairly well, although everything isn't exactly what the person wanted. That's to be expected because I bring my own perspective and way of doing things.

I have a few loose ends to tie up this week. Then it's time for me to step back.

My memories from all those years ago reminded me that there is only so much others can do to help. People can step forward and offer assistance along the way, but the journey belongs to the individual. It makes each one of us who we are.

May we be safe as we find our way.

Bumper Thumper

Do you know about the Texas Roadhouse Steakhouse? They have the most amazing rolls ~ browned morsels of sweetness that melt in your mouth. In our area they also have a special deal Monday through Thursday from 4 to 6 pm when several of their meals are priced at $7.99, and that includes as many of their delicious rolls as you want.

Ken and I were headed there last night when the car behind me thumped my bumper. I was on an exit ramp, slowly trying to yield into oncoming traffic. Thump! I looked in my rearview mirror to see a woman with her hands in the air and her mouth wide open. I got out and she got out. She made it sound like it was my fault. Really? We decided to pull off into a gas station just feet ahead. Ken told me not to worry about it because anyone could see what happened.

There was a state trooper parked in the gas station's parking lot, finishing up a report from another accident at the very same spot. So we waited and while we did we watched the woman in the other car. She had pulled up to the right, parallel to the gas station. Then she moved her car to park right next to the building. A few minutes later she pulled her car past the gas pumps to park in the middle of the driveway to exit the parking lot. She had to move from there when a large construction truck needed to leave.

While she did all of this parking and reparking, she had her cell phone in her hand. She was on and off the phone the whole time we waited. Her car had a variety of creases and dings. I sat there sending her peaceful thoughts because she was obviously stressed, to the point of distraction.

Ken and I sat quietly and chatted while we waited, which I was able to do after my initial panic. I had pulled into a parking spot behind the state trooper's car, where he was working on his computer. My first thought: I sure am glad I don't have any outstanding tickets or he would find a warrant out for my arrest. My second thought: Oh, no, we're going to miss the specials at Texas Roadhouse!

The damage to my car was minimal, the left side of my rear bumper is scuffed up and missing some paint. Ken and I were both wearing seatbelts, so no harm there. The officer who took the report was matter of fact about the whole thing, handed me a single-page print-out, and told me to call my insurance company.

We did miss the deadline for the specials at Texas Roadhouse, which we now know for sure are really good deals. However, we still got the rolls, and I brought home leftovers for today's lunch.

A Happy List

Cindy, at A Writer's Diary, this list is for you.
Here's to not being picked last in gym class.

Ten things that make me happy, in no particular order:

1. spending time with my family
2. walking on the beach
3. enjoying a cup of coffee
4. clean sheets
5. movies
6. talking with friends
7. writing
8. cookies
9. finding the perfect camera angle
10. sewing

The second part of the challenge is to do at least one of the things today. My husband has invited me out to dinner tonight, so #1 on my list and in my heart has been accounted for.

Enjoy the day ~

Off Coffee

Monday afternoon I called to make an acupuncture appointment for Friday. Monday night I had my last cup of coffee for awhile, partly to impress my acupuncturist and partly because my caffeine intake may be contributing to my recent sleep troubles. Coffee has not kept me from sleeping in the past, but I am ready to try anything, which also explains my first acupuncture appointment in more than a year.

Two weeks ago Ken woke me in the middle of the night because my muffled screams woke him. I remembered the dream [someone was trying to break into a room where another woman and I were copying papers] and while it didn't seem that menacing, I was awake for along time afterward.

Since then I have jolted awake at 4 a.m. more than once. I lay there in a panic and sweating. It has been hard to sort out what the nightmares are.

Something is amiss.

All that I am trying to work through during the daylight hours is now interrupting my nighttime hours as well. This is unfortunate because at the end of the day I look forward to the refuge of sleep.

I have been staying up later and later, which probably contributes to the problem. When it comes to a bedtime, I don't have one. I usually stay up until I can't stay awake any longer.

I realized today that I haven't posted in six days. That hasn't been intentional.

I miss writing, like I miss coffee.

There are things going on in my external life. Things I don't write about here.

There are things going on in my internal life. Things I don't have a handle on and can't explain.

So it makes sense that I haven't posted for some days.

But I will be back tomorrow with a list of what makes me happy. And coffee will be on the list, even though it's off the menu this week.

For A New Beginning

A friend was recently given a book of blessings by John O'Donohue. Yesterday she shared one with me, and it was indeed a blessing to receive. Thank you, H ~

For a New Beginning
by John O'Donohue

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life's desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.


from To Bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue, Doubleday Religion, 2008.

Chorus Of Color

Every day I marvel that there are tulips blooming in my yard. I bought a bag of mixed-colored bulbs last fall, so I didn't know what I planted where or even if they would come up. I was happy when red tulips bloomed ~

and excited when orange tulips appeared several days later ~

I was so delighted with the display of red and orange that I didn't mind that there were places where only leaves existed for weeks. Last week buds appeared, but I was sure they'd never open. Then, this week, yellow joined the chorus ~

In the midst of all the turmoil in the world, I am grateful for the chorus of color in my yard.

Amen.

First Monday In May

I have always been a person who needs time to ponder and regroup. Last week when life slowed down to slower than the usual pace, I knew there was something afoot. Ken was working out of town, so my time was completely my own. I didn't clean house or do laundry. I ate what I wanted when I was hungry. I started work to finish my daughter's quilt.

It felt like I put myself in time out, as if I said Think about what you've done with your life, young lady. How exactly did I get to where I am? And where am I now?

A crystal clear memory presented itself. I remembered that shortly after my youngest child was born I strained my back. I reached over the side of the crib to pick him up...ouch. I called the doctor, who prescribed rest and the insight that the body after having a baby at 31 is different than it was at 25. There was another incident after that, although now I don't recall what, and I remember praying that I live to see my son grow up. I fervently prayed that I would live until he was least 15, the age I thought he would be independent and able to remember me, and my oldest two children would be old enough to help him out.

Now my youngest is 22 years old. He is moving off campus for the summer, and he has rented an apartment with friends for the fall. He made plans to fly to California to spend the time between spring semester and summer session with his brother, which is where he is this week.

I know people love me. The thing is that no one needs me.

What if that means I have done all I came to do? What if that means I will die?

As these thoughts occurred to me last week, I didn't think they were morbid. I was not scared. I watched the ideas unfold, checked them over carefully, and let them sit with me. I didn't say them out loud or even write them down. I stopped at the edge of my thinking because... what if I sounded crazy?

I had a massage scheduled for Friday morning. I have been going at least once a month for ten years. We start each session with a conversation about what has been going on with me and how my body feels. I covered the usual topics. One thing led to another and in the lightest tone I could muster I shared my thoughts about, perhaps, being finished with what I was supposed to do. I wondered out loud if I was going to die.

My massage therapist is a deeply spiritual person, intuitive, and incredibly able to read people. She watched me and asked a few questions. She never proclaims to know the answer, but she gently shares the thoughts that come to her during our sessions. She wondered if it wasn't about physical death but about death of the Sharon that has always taken care of someone else, that maybe this was about it being time for me to take care of me.

I puzzled over that and asked why it was taking so long; I feel like it's taking forever for me to figure out what to do with myself. I can't get a job. I can't win a local election. What if I am just supposed to be finished?

She offered that it takes a long time to change course, to listen to ourselves and learn who we are. She said that if I had been busy with other commitments I might have missed all the things I have learned about myself.

She asked me how my body has been. I told her that my shoulders have been tight and my upper arms have been sore. As she started the massage she suggested I ask my shoulders if they had anything to tell me.

The tears came with the thought holding on too tight to my kids, the life I knew, and who I used to be. She massaged my shoulders and my thighs, which have also been tight, a sign she says that I have been digesting new information. My entire body felt better after the massage. I felt ready to go on.

This time has been important. As much as I want the uncertainty to end and the answers to come, I believe that life unfolds on its own schedule.

Maybe the journey is just beginning.