Christmas 2015

This is a Christmas I would like to forget, but will forever remember.

Here I sit, drinking tea, eating a mandarin orange, reading messages from friends on facebook.

Christmas came this year.  It always does.

The stockings were hung last night, and by some miracle they were filled by the Spirit of Christmas.

There have been many tears, but also by the Grace of God some laughter, some respite.

The sun shone today.  The days are getting longer.  Tonight is the full moon.

That all means something.

It all means something, but in this mysterious journey called life we cannot always know the answers or the outcomes.

This is the time for grief during a season of celebrating a birth.

These twelve holy nights will teach me something I need to learn.

Today?  Today I am learning what grief feels like, deep in my heart, deep in the marrow of my bones.

Tomorrow?

Tomorrow I will be open to what the day chooses to show me.

And I will probably go for a long, long swim.

Tu me manques.

One day at a time

The groceries are purchased.  The propane tanks are full.

The winter clothes are in the camper, along with my long johns.

We will start our journey today, hoping for clear roads in both the metaphorical and real sense.

Christmas is coming.  It always comes despite what life throws at us. 

This is why I believe in Christmas, and Santa Claus.  Because even when you can't imagine it will all happen, it does anyways.

The solstice is upon us.  Some say today, some say tomorrow.  Whatever it is, the days will start getting longer again, and that is a good thing. 

I have added a new gadget to my blog which you will find on the right hand side called featured post. 

I wrote The moment of birth three years ago on the solstice of a particularly difficult Christmas season. 

I think it is just as relevant today.

I wish all my readers a peaceful solstice, and if Christmas is your holiday I wish you a Christmas full of blessings. 

One road at a time.

I can do this.

We can do this.

The little orange pill

At 10am I finally got up, my stomach in knots.  And no, that isn't a knitting metaphor.

I pulled down my anti-depressants, my vitamin d, my glutathione, and the little orange pill.  I brewed the coffee, and sat down weeping.

I took all the pills with the first gulp of coffee, all except the little orange pill.  I just sat there looking at it.

My doctor tells me to take it if I need it.  I need it.  But I don't want to need it.  So I just looked at it.

We talked.  We wept.  My dear husband made me eat something - a little something.  Then he asked me if I wanted to go to the pool  

I did.

I put the pill back in the bottle hoping the swim would be enough.

It was a good swim.  A peaceful swim.

When I left the pool I decided to go to the mall to get some things for Christmas.  The parking lot was busy, but I hung in there and managed to get parking.

I found the store I was looking for, and even got a deal on what I was looking for.  I found the second store, close to tears, but persevered and made the purchase.  It was huge.  What was I trying to buy?  A package of paper for our printer.  The rows and rows of paper overwhelmed me, but an employee helped me, and I kept the tears at bay.  Thank God for yoga breathing.

I kept saying the mantra Eddie Bauer, because that was the entrance I had come in and I was afraid I would lose the car in the parkade.

I only got turned around once, but sorted myself out and even stopped at a kiosk to get my dear husband something little to wrap and put under the tree for him on Christmas morning.

I made it back to the car.

I made it out of the parkade and ultimately out of the parking lot and finally home.

I ate and immediately had a stomach ache.

I slept.

I woke up.

And I took the fucking orange pill.

I don't really know if it helps, but I think it blunts the edge of the stabbing pain in my heart.

So that was my day.  

I did get a swim.

 I did buy a few small Christmas gifts.

I even bought a pair of nice underpants with a gift card I had received from lululemon. (As an aside, who pays eighteen dollars for a pair of underpants?  Oh, that would be me.)

 I did eat a little bit.

And tonight I will knit a doll for a little girl or boy.

Maybe two.

It's something.

Thank God for family,friends,swimming and errands

Day Eleven:

I tried to spend the day in bed - but a phone call roused me just before noon.

I talked to my eldest sister.

Donated three boxes of  'things' to charity.

I ate breakfast.

I did dishes.

I made kefir.

I re-filled the hummingbird feeder.

I washed sheets.

Swept the floor.

Gathered up cardboard recycling for tomorrow's garbage day.

Exchanged difficult words.

Received a loving text from another sister.

I got dressed.

I talked to my neighbour.

Went swimming.

Received a virtual hug from a dear friend.

Held on tight to my dear husband.

Admired the beautiful pink clouds in the blue, blue sky.

Returned things to where they belonged.

Recycled batteries and light bulbs.

Bought groceries.

Ate dinner.

Blogged.

And wept.

So much weeping.

Another day down.

They will get easier.

Right?

Opal Ring and Family

I found the ring my parents gave me for my sixteenth birthday.  I put it on, and it fits, and within a few hours my body heat had the opal flickering in the light.

This ring is forty-four years old.  The band is so thin, that it is like I am not even wearing it, but there it is, reminding me of another time, that girl that I was, so young and naive.

I am not so naive now, but the ring carries so many memories.  I don't know why I stopped wearing it - although it probably had to do with the fact it didn't fit comfortably as I aged and gained weight.

But it is back now where it belongs.

It makes me think of my Dad, and my Mum,  and these days I need all the family support I can get.

Yesterday I really wanted to call my eldest sister, but I couldn't seem to pick up the phone and dial the number - within moments a call came through - and you guessed it, there she was, calling to see how I was.

She was there for me.

And then I called my younger brother and he was there for me too.  Arriving today for a long breakfast that went well into the afternoon.

It is true.  Home is the place that when you have to go there, they have to take you in.  For me Family is the thing that when I am brave enough to make the call they are always, always there for me.

My opal reminds me of that.

Tu me manques

You are missing from me.

You told me once that this is the translation from the French - Tu me manques.

It seems more poignant than saying 'I miss you'.

It seems to say it all - those five words.

You are missing from me.

Carrying On

This has not been an easy year, There is no point going into details here.  Those who know, know.

Suffice to say I am hoping 2016 will be kinder and gentler, but I fear it may not be so.

For my own mental health I need to focus on the good things in my life.

I have many awesome friends, who are there for me even if months have gone by without contact.

I have young people who love me and like to sit on my lap while I read to them, or sit beside me while I knit with them or hold my hand while I walk with them.

I have relationships with students from years gone by, who call me up to have tea together and chat about their future.

I have my swimming.  Thank God for my swimming.

I have my sister and brother who are there for me while I babble on through tears, and I know my other sisters and brother would be there for me if I opened up to them with my broken heart.

I have my work - which fulfills my need to feel respected and worthy.

I have the love of my husband of thirty-eight years which is constant and profound.

I have the love of my son, who is there for me, who can make me laugh and is so very wise.

My daughter told me last summer that 'we have time'.  I have faith that this is so.

I have my weekly knit group and people there who care for me and reach out to me when I start to withdraw.

And my knitting, I always am creating something.  So there is that.

I have the birds at the feeder.

I have cedar forests to walk in, and those magnificent trees give me strength and some peace.

I have the daily chores.

I have my weekly yoga practice.

I have the sunrises and sunsets (except for when it's raining) and then I have the rain, and now the snow tires are on I can look forward to the snow.

I have the cat, for now, who seems to know I need his company in the evening.

I have my writing: this blog, my poetry, and a novel to edit.

I have a talisman from \Saint Joseph's Shrine given to me by my dear cousin and aunt.  I carry it in my pocket every day.

My mother used to tell me, and my daughter has it tattooed on her arm, "This too shall pass."  I am praying that this is so.

I can't imagine Christmas this year, so I won't, but I have my Advent candles to light my way through this, the darkest of months.

And, I have you, dear readers, and I am thankful for your comments and support.