Musing

Blogging helps give me perspective, and I am not stating this with conviction, like something I am always mindful of. No, I thought of it just now... maybe not for the first time, but it feels like something I need to pay more attention to. The particular perspective is to do with what kind of week this has been. My spirits took a deep dive, when another chapter of the Never Ending Drunkladydriver Drama was laid before my feet, two weeks after I was encouraged, to "put it all behind you, now!" It's absurd, ridiculous, frustrating... all of those descriptions of aggravation mixed with trauma, and it's really pulled me into a mix of disfunction and dark thoughts. So, perspective? Well, I begin blogging by taking photos from my phone and formatting them for a post, and that's when I saw that a week I would have called bad, and hard, wasn't all bad, as evidenced by flowers, cats, reminders of a pizza night with friends, seeing Saturn in the pre-dawn sky... not that I have a photograhph of Saturn in the pre-dawn sky. One good moment, a picture of my daughter sharing an art day with me, or the first blooms of rockrose, leads to reflection, to recall, and suddenly, like when fog evaporates, I see things more clearly, more fully, and more good memories come to mind.

Tasha is on the verge of forgiving me for the whole incident with the baby goat. And about the baby goat, that's become, how to describe it... a sad mess. The feedstore returned her to the breeder, and the feedstore won't call me, or take my calls, or when I do reach them, they insist it's out of their hands. So. All of my good intentions about working with them, and doing whatever was best for the goat, have been totally disrespected, dismissed, and my favorite feedstore of 21 years is treating me like an invisible nobody. It has been suggested that I fight this, but I honestly don't have much fight in me, not after the thrashing I've taken from aforementioned Never Ending DLDD. And what can I possibly gain? They refunded the payment. And they don't have the goat. It really comes down to me asking them to care about my feelings, to acknowledge that I wanted to have the goat, and get her good care. I can't force a business to like me, or to honor an agreement that was made in trust, in hope. I believe the breeder is doing, or did? the best for the goat, and I console myself with the belief that being cute and sweet, she will live a good life, somewhere. But it hurts... I wanted her to be ours, and I was doing all the things that I trusted and hoped were best. At the very least, I thought they would be decent enough to let me know how Grace is doing, if she is recovering. Ha! I was thinking this could turn into a happy post, all about how good things outweigh bad, and gratitude, but I needed to not let Grace Hoppper's story hang in the air, untold, ghosted. It seems she wasn't meant to be our forever goat, and I hope that she is well.

A bird built a nest on the header of the Smithy shop overhang. I couldn't see into the nest. But some bird sure made her nest pretty, with alyssum, woven in the grass and twigs.

So. What was that, again? Perspective. Right. Whether it's my issues, or sad news from family, or friends, or God, just reading the news... it gets to me. All of the struggles, and challenges, the losses, and injustice, and I should stop listing these things, because it's endless. I make a determined effort to practice gratitude, to be mindful of the good news, to take slow, deep breaths, but. I guess, sometimes even happy thoughts, affirmations, tea and candles, can't keep the weight of the world from bringing me down. These last few days got really weighty, so I would have readily declared it all a bad week. But, like I said, my photographs reminded me that it hasn't all been bad. I think Saturday was actually really lovely. We had a long overdue socially distanced get together in the driveway, around campfires. The owls were calling, and I even saw a couple of bats flit overhead. Maria has been sharing more digital art lessons with me, and I have even had some painting success. A whole day with cats being adorable, and cuddly is a world of good, so are bird nests, flowers, and meaningful talks. I am thankful to have found some relief from a strong round of frustration, depression, anguish. Seeing good things, acknowledging the blessings... it's like coming up for air, and realizing that I can breath, and even stand, with my head above the water. I confess, though, that I have another idea that has been sort of pestering me. It is this, if I can explain it well... maybe I need a break from tea cups and happy thoughts, maybe I need a raw scream, loud crashing rage. It's possible all of my attempts to heal through happiness, to stay bright and cheery, to feel only gratitude and humility, is keeping me from confronting the real pain and fear I feel now, and have felt on impact, or at any time in my life when something traumatic tested my confidence, hurt me, frightened me. Somewhere I learned to be small, to keep pain quiet, to not fuss, or ask for more than my due, which is always less than I might want, otherwise it's greedy, needy, vain. My compulsions to obey, to cooperate, to be kind, and supportive, to consider everyone, and anyone, before me, might not be... healthful? Fair? Sometimes, I talk to Geoff about my deep thoughts and other musings, but mostly, they stay in my head, or maybe pop up here, where, for some reason, I feel anonymous, unseen. I imagine it's ok to say things on the blog, because if someones does hear me, they are free to walk away, and I am not asking anything of anyone. I haven't figured this new idea out. I am still turning it around and considering it, but I thought I'd try to begin to put it to words, and I am increasingly comfortable with the idea that I could really enjoy pumelling something, breaking and shattering stuff, that it might feel like a release, a manifestation of letting pain, for which I have no words, be expressed and pushed out... out and away from where I have been holding them in, where they have been clinging, and gnawing at me. I would love to scream.

There is beauty all around me, and I hold it dear. I think I could hold the beauty dear, and closer, if I weren't wrapped in, and holding on to, so much pain and fear, like a thick armor. This armor is familiar, and I have been mistaking it for a kind of protection, but it's not working. This isn't how its meant to be. Do you know what, and I am addressing myself, I guess... it's very hard to let go of familiar things, even when you realize they are harmful. I see, something needs to change. How to do it?