Has another Christmas leaped through my life? How fast it went! I have started this year full of optimism. Unusual for me to be in this place at this time of the year. The darkness of the winter days hasn’t overtaken my mood.
Perhaps, it won’t do so at all this year. I have been resigned to coping with the low moods all my adult life. And yet there is always a part of me that believes it doesn’t have to be so. If I claim I have a choice in how I feel and how I behave, then I must believe it and so prove it to myself.
I don’t have any resolutions for this year. I have my continuing path of proving myself able to be better at each turn.
One thing I once believed has changed. I used to believe I was strong and able to withstand pain. I failed at withstanding. I became crushed in so many places. Then, I believed I could never heal. After a while, I decided I could heal, but the crushed places would ever be fragile. Time never made a difference in the process. Just lately, over the past year or two, I discovered something has been healing my broken places. Love. Just love. Several girls have come into my life over the past few years. First, my brother’s granddaughters brought a window of hope. Now, my own granddaughters have broken down walls.
I think about my own grandmothers. I remember how important they are to me even now so many years after they left this life. My aunts continue to impact my life. If I can matter to any of these girls half as much as those women matter to me, I will be loved more than I deserve.
I wonder how things will be between all these little girls as we grow to know each other. And I look so very forward to the love that grows between us.
Happy 2018! Happy Life! Happy Love!
P.S. He continues to lift me up to Him. His continued prayers for me and support of my off-beat self has no doubt had a larger impact on my current state of being than I will know in this life. My love always loves me. And besides………..he needs my love to keep him warm!
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.