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I need a container for my empty containers that I keep because they must be good for something sometime! Boxes, jars, tins, such a variety! Currently sitting under stored chocolate tins on a garage shelf. They are 1 3/4" tall and wide. Crafters — help! *smile* 
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I'm tired of grieving, but still don't know how to exist without my mom and the home I grew up in (that she lived in my whole life). She was in my life for 65 years. I know others aren't so lucky. I know others move through their life after parents with a gusto — realizing how precious and short life is. And I sometimes get a glimpse of that feeling, of being excited about being here. But I think I'm still in a depression around my loss. I still get waves of sadness and tears. I do try to think back on all the joys and feel happy about them, but often I feel the loss instead. Yes, I do laugh, I do love being with my grandson and kids, I do love my husband, but there's something missing and I don't know how to fill that void. I know that I have to find strength from somewhere to tip the balance from grieving towards living. [Just noted a post of mine from forever ago saying livejournal could be a place for me to journal "privately". How well I know that besides the fact that anyone can see my post (if they bother to look), anything posted on the internet is very public. I think I really meant it would not be found by members of my household whereas a book lying around would be.] ( Read more...Collapse ) |
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I've been a parent for 35 years now. In the last decade or so I've begun to view other people in the context of them being a child of someone else. I see them and ask myself 'where is their mother or father right now'? How are they in the context of their family. This instead of 'who are they' — as a single person without family connections. It doesn't seem to matter how old they are, I still start to think about that. I consider how they used to be a little kid. I guess I see them as larger than what I can see with my eyes in front of me at that moment. |
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Why does one almost always have to be a social butterfly in order to have one's art noticed? Are there other paths besides that and discovery after death? |
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Am I a different person when I'm sitting alone in a room than when my husband walks in? Is it a change in me, or is it just a shift in energy? |
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I wonder how to accept myself. I'm talking about the conflict of the things that interest me that I will never persue and my desire to be the type of person who would actually persue their interests. Accepting that I will probably never follow through with those desires. That I should now buy the book on breadmaking, that I should sell or give away all those books that make me sad when I see them on my shelf because I won't stop and read them or do the gardening that they suggest. How do I accept who I am now, focus on the things I am able to do, but not stagnate, not be a person who doesn't grow? I find my writing here to be as disorganized as my brain around this topic. Maybe it's the push pull of being here and now and looking towards the future, of having goals. I've never been a goal maker. Maybe it's time. Will it help? Ah, you can sense my indecisivness, my inability to make decisions around my being. I don't want to be all lists and organization, but certainly there is a middle ground for me. What does that look like? |
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I have this weird pride in being able to get the grocery items I want through the delivery service in our area, Instacart. I always leave notes for the shopper about what works and doesn't work for us if the specific item I want isn't available. I always ask them to contact me. I chat with them as they shop. I encourage them to look again if they can't find something (try way up high in the corner...). Most of them like it. They say that it is a boring job, so human - even virtual - contact is welcome. I'm so pleased with myself when it works. And I always tip large. Anyone who is willing to do jobs that I want nothing to do with, Garbage pickup, pumping gas (Oregon doesn't "allow" us to pump our own gas - I'm thrilled!), going into stores for me when there is a pandemic going on? All these people who will do these things for me get my utmost respect. |
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I sit at home in the early evening listening to my guy read and sing. our house is filled with the green of the trees that have taken over our back yard. No trimming, wild and full. Up on our hill on the edge of the city. Grey high clouds drizzle moisture. Tales of California, San Francisco, that I have so many connections with make me wonder at living here so far north of that experience. A completely different visual. Larger bridge, Cool ocean air and fog, victorian homes. (As I drove down the hill yesterday there was a thick fog lying on the river and covering downtown. No camera at the ready - no wide angle lens anyway. Mental image only left. There's something about fog that is calming and still. The city has to pause, like waiting for the bridge to close.) Similarities to Portland, but more vibrant, more mixed. Braver and more intense. Portland is basically as old as San Francisco (don't fact check me), but is slower, even with the influx of Californians. A cousin, perhaps, that's a little more down to earth. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's the landscape. Most of Portland is gently sloped, S.F. up and down in twists. We live at the top of a great valley of green. We live at the apex of valley, gorge, mountains and rivers. I can't see it all, but know it's there. I can get to it in an hour maximum. And while we don't live on the ocean, it also is only a short drive away. I feel so calm taking in our house's green yard. San Fransisco is a place to view, to take in, to experience. Portland is a place to create. My guy thrives in his creativity here. I will get back to it. Fall will ground me. Inspiration will come. Follow through will materialize. |
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Yup. Denny's. Denny's restaurant. It still exists. And now I'm sitting in one waiting for breakfast at noon. I used to go to a Denny's in the middle of the night during college. I would always order a small sundae and hot tea. It was perfect. And stupid. And so outrageous. Now, as I searched for a place to get a simple breakfast late in the morning I thought - Denny's! And there was one two blocks away. I can't believe I'm here. I requested a booth. Cause - duh. What a crazy piece of America. Just what the sleep deprived me needs.
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Book #2 . " Guilt, the greediest emotion, wants everthing, she said. Grief just wants time. " AND "I have a theory that couples are bound with some type of invisible rubber band. It expands and contracts, but it's always there, a light tug that you may not even notice until you notice, as I had, that it was completely gone." - both quotes from Paris by the Book - by Liam Callanan . --------------------------------- . First quote is just a nice way to view those two emotions. . Second quote feels so true for me. I completely feel that rubber band in not only my marriage, but with my children and, to a lesser extent, my mother. . Both help me view situations in my life a little from the outside, and that helps me be more grounded about those situations. Without backing up occasionally I get swept up in the details and get overwhelmed. . --------------------------------- |
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amused