Some Mondays

Some Mondays, I have trouble getting going writing. Like tonight.  I think tonight has been the worst so far.

So what shall I write about? I have had to make a change to improve my health.  It is a change in more than my diet.  I am a coffee lover. I drink copious amounts of coffee each day.  I buy decaf coffee so I can drink coffee late in the day if I want.  It was killing my stomach.

Last Monday, I stopped drinking all day coffee. I have had about eight ounces of coffee each morning.  But, it is a lifestyle change and a change of habit and a detox from caffeine.  I have been drinking water all day now.  My stomach was better the same day I stopped drinking all that coffee.

Till today……I cooked spaghetti for his supper. I ate some as well.  There went my stomach again.  I don’t really like spaghetti all that much, so I doubt I will miss it.  But, I am not certain if it was the tomatoes, the Italian sausage or what that upset my tummy.

Nevertheless, I was aggravated about it. I had been enjoying not having all those problems this past week.

What else do I need to give up to improve my well-being? Self-criticism.  I abuse myself the way I talk to myself.  That voice in my head is vicious.  But, I have been getting that under control, too.  That shift I mentioned last week would certainly include a gentler observer voice in my mind.

I have continued to retrain my thoughts to be compassionate with my own self. I write it all out in my journal.  I identify a thought or thought process and write the sequence.  Then, I rewrite it like a friend talking to me.  Advising me on what is true and what is assumed.  Digging into the cause of the thought, rewriting scripts to give a positive outcome.  I am not really sure how to describe the method.  Positive imagining.  Whatever it is, it has allowed me to put many dragons to death and get many more chained up.

My dragons range in size and color. Things from indecision, over-sentimentality, laziness, to severe depression and a deep sense of unworthiness, and survivor’s guilt.  I am getting better able to battle them.   Writing Raining Orchids is good medicine.

His letting me go to the deer stand and sit is also good medicine. Sitting in those woods, hours of solitude, pen and paper in hand.  I appreciate getting to spend time in that part of his world.  I appreciate his spending time, money and energy to get me in a warm, dry spot to wait and listen.  I appreciate his patience with my efforts at becoming a hunter and fisherwoman.  I appreciate him.

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Waiting

I spent a lot of time waiting Saturday. I was waiting for a deer to walk out.  I sat on the stand almost all day with no real movement of wildlife at all.  The birds and squirrels were even remarkably quiet.

I spend a lot of time waiting every day, I think. Waiting for something to happen.  What do I think is going to happen?  I can’t even answer that question.  I just feel as if something is about to happen.  Something for which I need to wait.

Perhaps nothing is going to happen. What if I am just waiting?  What if I just sit waiting until my time has run out and the days of my life have gone?

I am not blindly waiting. I am expectantly waiting.  Waiting for whatever it is.  I believe I will know when it happens.

Meanwhile, I try to stay busy. Going to work, trying to keep up with the house, cooking.  I go with him when I can.  Hunting, fishing, riding in the buggy.  Whatever he does and wants me along.  (Which is anyplace except his recliner.)

I also spend time thinking. Mentally preparing for the something that might happen.  I think it might even be something no one else will see.  Maybe it will simply be a shift of my perception.  A change in my belief system.  Not even all my beliefs.  Just one or two.  Enough to make my entire world change.  The world I inhabit in my mind.

Sometimes I feel as if a big reveal is just about to happen. The curtain in my mind will fall away and I will see whatever it is I am supposed to know.  Maybe just the seeking is the happening.  It all feels strange and difficult to explain or examine.

What do I want? Peace of mind, contentment, purpose, a reason to spring out of bed every morning ready to start the day.  I want to know that it is good and well for me to want to be happy.  I want to know that it is good and well for me to want to love and be loved.  I want to know that it is good and well to be alive and well.

I struggle with a type of survivor’s guilt and with a sense of abandonment. I depend on him so much to provide emotional support.  I feel like an emotional vacuum at times.  I try to not cling to him overmuch.  Much of the time I want to curl up in his lap in that recliner and stay there.

One of the best things I have learned is that my feelings are not me. I was born terribly sensitive.  So much so, my grandmother called me “Squall-bags” for a nickname.  She always offered me a sugar tit.  After spending most of my life held hostage by my emotions, I am finally getting free of them.  Peace of mind is sure to come.  Eventually, purpose will emerge with contentment to follow.

 

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