Is This Helping?

Nah

Again - my pets - right now my dog - knows something is up.

Pup and I are at the lake to finish up de-summerizing the place and cleaning after having the nuggets here a few weeks ago. I was welcomed into the space by a bunch of halloween items. A bat hanging from the mailbox. A "keep out" sign in my herb pot. Orange pumpkins of the styrofoam kind scattered in the yard on the lakeside. I love those nuggets. Inside is a ghoul that we left on the curtain rod because he was entirely wet when we packed up to go home.

This place is a mess. Unmade beds, A toilet where a 6 year-old peed and didn't always hit his mark. Toys everywhere.

Today I have a plan.

Last night I couldn't sleep.

Pup doesn't really love going to bed early. I went to bed around 9 or 9:30. He came with me. I had weird and fitful dreams and woke up at two and got up at four.

But today I have my plan even though I'm sitting here at the computer watching episodes of Hoarders. wtf anyway?

Pup got up at five and is now sleeping in the "lump" and watching "How It's Made." He loves that show. He is sleeping. I can hear it.

I watch Hoarders because I fear I could become one. But I am constantly purging. I take bags and bags of things to Goodwill. I will declutter this place today. It helps me stay good. Calm. Superficially together.

Fake it until you make it. I think it helps.

Peace out old woman.

Never

It's weird that when you're in a thing. When you're in a way. When you're in it and can't crawl out. It's weird because people don't notice. Or they don't want to notice. Or they're scared of noticing. Or you don't notice them noticing. But my pets notice. Talk about empaths! They're on me like butter on toast. It's annoying entirely. It's comforting.

I'm tired. So tired. I sleep fitfully as I do and yet want to sleep all the time. I had my little nugget here the other day and he took a very long nap and I did as well. Just lay down on the couch and slept. Groggy when I heard him awake. Groggy all the time.

Pup gets home and we eat dinner, I clean up, we sit on the couch where after a few minutes I say, "I'm coming in" which means I'm going to lay on him and I fall asleep. I sleep all evening. Then I get up and say, "I'm going to bed."

Then start again the next day.

Sleeping

TV

Reading

Nothing

I resent any plans I've made or had to make. The thought of the holidays coming up scare me not a little. I wanted to host Thanksgiving and I am, but it's looming and I feel overwhelmed. Gah

Christmas has been bad for me since I left my Wasband. His birthday is Christmas day so I've never spent the eve or the day with my kids since then. Bam - never. Pup and I are always alone. It shouldn't matter, but it gets me every year. This year we had picked the day after for our celebration, but the girls thought it would be nice to go to the cabin and have stay overs over the weekend of the 21st. But that overwhelmes me. I have to bring Christmas there? I wanted to decorate my new house with a huge real tree and celebrate here. I love the thought of waking to my family, but Pup and I will still be alone on the days. And no one will see our Christmas.

I remember wondering why my own momma stopped thinking she had to set up a tree. Why bother when no one is going to see it? This isn't what I thought having a family would be. I thought having kids would guarantee no loneliness, but I'm lonely. So . . . I had unrealistic expectations around that. I don't get Christmas. I don't get Thanksgiving all the time.

We teach people how to treat us. I've not wanted to be a pain and because of that I am a pain. I'm the one who broke up our home. I'm to blame for that and more. I'm the one. I don't get Christmas.

It feels selfish to want Christmas sometimes. I want my own family around me sometimes on the days of Christmas.

But they get to choose how they have their own family Christmas. I'm just not part of that any longer.

When my momma died my dad remarried right away and moved away. We never saw him for Christmas again.

Pup and I need to have our own plan for Christmas and I need to snap out of it.

But I have no snap left. I need to collagen up on my snap for fuck's sake.

Sometimes We Do Fall Down

Paralyzed could be the way I'm being. Stuck is a word I've used often. I'm growing tired of that word, but yes, stuck.

I've had the name of a therapist for three or so months in my day planner and have not made an appointment. Who knows why. Lazy? Afraid? Lazy? Stuck? Unwilling to do the work? I don't know.

I saw a therapist about three years ago for less than a dozen times. When it started getting hard I ran. I had even warned him I was a runner. My unwillingness to face myself is kinda laughable. I claim I want to dig deep, but don't.

I'm feeling unlovable, unlikeable, unworthy. I'm looking at those words and am now feeling like a big whiner and pussy. WThell is the problem? I'm definitely at an age where I really should know a few more answers than I do.

My old therapist was a perfectly nice person and I'm certain he could have helped me, but here's one thing that led to my running. He mentioned I'm an empath and in that time I did not know what that meant. I understood that to mean something whooo-hoo and unworldly. I have since found out it simply means you feel other's feelings or some such shit. A better way to explain might be I can feel another's sense of certain things. More than I care to frankly. I don't like being one. I realize empathy is something we need more of, but I'm not sure this is what it means in my mind.

I don't know. All of what I've just written looks like so much dumb-ass mutterings. Blech.

I am way too sensitive and take things way personally. Although, at times, I believe it might be the only way to take a particular incident or experience.

Fuck

The other evening some plans Pup and I had fell through (she forgot we had made plans) and I fell apart. In my fake or real empath way I am feeling that someone has total contempt for me now and maybe forever, and only has contact with me at all because I'm her momma.

I'm overstating I pray, but somewhere in there is a kernel of the real story. We haven't talked about the real story so I don't know what's wrong. Everything. Nothing. But it's there and unforgivable. I'll talk about what it probably is soon.

But, the other night when the plans were changed I had a quiet, but complete meltdown. I cried in my bed for hours. Had the darkest thoughts I've ever had. The thoughts even scared me. I felt so worthless and terrible I - just for a moment - imagined I could end me and others would be better off.

what the fuck

Scary to imagine and I had to crawl out of bed and watch something on my computer and sleep sitting up in my desk chair. fuck

The next day I snapped out of it a little.

I do snap out of my dark moods/thoughts, but they are dark and deep and I sometimes seem to relish them or encourage them or do nothing to dissuade them.

fuck

fuck and stuck

To hide I shop too much. I eat too much. I do nothing too much. I push friends away too much until I barely have any left. I watch tv too much. Do nothing too much. Sit too much. Ponder too much.

Ring Around the Rosey - We All Fall Up

Fall has always felt more like the beginning of the year for me. With fall fashion for us to check out and the fall organizing and buttoning up of all things summer it seems like a great place to begin a new thought.

Years and years ago I had a thread on a forum-type place (I got kicked off! ha! So did my friend T! I don't know what we did - something horrible! No we didn't, but we did get kicked off.) named Wrecking Ball. But now that term has been overtaken by a young 'un singer so I need a new phrase - hmm . . . My youngest daughter mentioned a few months ago in passing that she was having the Year of Lorenzo. I like that. I kept saying a year ago that it was my Last Good Summer because the following summer I was turning a certain age, ahem, and life as I know it would be over. Of course it isn't, but I am dramatic. Life isn't. IT ISN'T!

Maybe "They're All Good Summers" or "I'm Forever in Summer" or "Summer is my Middle Name." How about "Forever Fall?"

I'll think a minute longer.

I like beginnings. The thinking, the plotting, the progress charting, the checklists.

Time to turn on the fireplace. Time to make stew. Time to organize our office. Time to bring the kitties home from the lake. Time to begin.

Squeeky in love

Me in love

Love in space

Puppers love

It's Not You - It's Me

All the time I feel as though I cannot fully catch my breath. A catch in the back of my throat that either is going to propel me into a bit of crying or a bit of loud sighing or a bit of self-(fill in the blank) that I cannot fully realize or embrace or believe or possess. An unnamed bit of something (!) in the back of my throat/mind that isn't comfortable. Damn it is uncomfortable! What is it?

I look and look for the reason or cause. I take notes. I make a plan. I sit on that plan. Why do I sit on the plan? It does seem that the further I dip into this actualization or awareness or grasp of what I'm looking for, the more treacherous and perilous things seem. They really aren't that way, but I cannot catch my breath thinking about the risk. All the thoughts and spoken/unspoken words and things left undone or done and wrongs or rights. All of this stuff. This confusing stuff. Stuff I feel I should have a handle on. I don't have a handle on it. I don't even have a handle to grab.

The thing I've thought about all the time is making me unable to catch my breath because it caught me. I know there is a way to wriggle out of this snare if I were only smarter or more clever or less inclined to sit on the damn plan. I'm smart. I know how it is. I don't know how it was. There's the blemish in my plan. I think I know how, but clearly I do not.

What a bunch of prattle. But in the end - I cannot catch my breath and I need it.

Room with a View

View in a Room

No View Here

Little by Little, Bit by Bit

We made it through the wilderness 

Somehow we made it through

Didn't know how lost I was

Until I found you 

Like a Virgin

~Madonna

Yeah, nothing like a well thought-out opening. Realistic and appropriate.

But it's true. We made it though what seemed like a very long winter-season (Game of Thrones anyone?) and we made it through a remodel. Here is the space. I'm tinkering always with stuff placement and the large and very 90s areas up near the ceiling made me have to think pretty hard, but I'm loving living here. It's bright even on a gray day and the vibe I'm getting is relaxed even if I'm not. Heh~

Excuse the refuse on the island, the random cat - of course we NEVER let our cats on the counters! We would NEVER let our dog on the furniture! - and just the mess in general. House Beautiful has nothing on me. There's only two of us living here, but you'd think otherwise with the mess we manage to make. I'll post more appropriate and staged photos in the future. 

Grace

Pup and I waited for our contractor to come today. We had a couple of things to show him and the countertops were scheduled to be installed today and I needed to be here to see to all of that.

But they didn't come. Somehow, today, in the middle of the day, when we were expecting them to be showing up, our contractor got word that the counters had not passed inspection. There were flaws in the quartz.

Today they figured this out. After waiting three weeks for these counters they discover, today, that there are flaws in the quartz.

Gah and arg and grrr!

I burst into laughter because really, I want to shove someone down something. Not a real someone, just a shadowy no one that I can hurt just a little.

The joys of remodeling!

So I really ate some feelings for lunch. Several times.

And tonight I'm drinking wine.

This stuff is really good btw! My assistant from our new biz where she and I hold down the fort brought it in one day and I hadn't tried it yet. Grapefruit Rose. I am guzzling it. And that is a plastic wine glass I bought at Target just for the way I'm living these days. Living the life!

My makeshift kitchen. Coffeepot, toaster, microwave, and a bottle of wine.

No reason for this post other than reminding myself that even this day is good. Always something good to see here.

xxoo

A Beautiful Mess

Sunday, 2.10.19 - 10 a.m.

Who am I? I just drove to MacDonalds  for sausage and egg mcmuffins in my pajamas. Me. If you knew me you would know this isn't me. I had on my animal print flannel pajamas. During a snowstorm. wth

I put on sunglasses, a winter hat with one of those very cute, yet very large fake fur ball thingys on top along with my incredibly puffy down coat that seriously makes me look like a toddler who's mother has bundled them up for an outside adventure. I tucked my animal print jammy bottoms into my well-used Sorel boots, trudged out to my car, fluffed off the snow with window lowerings and windshield wipers and drove the mile or so to our MacDonalds. In my jammies.

sigh!!

How am I here? Who am I?

I am a woman who, along with her husband, two cats, and one dog, has moved into a detached townhouse in a much different town. After moving in we began a renovation on the main level which is 1/3 of the house. So we are living in a semi-controlled chaos. No kitchen, no couches, no place to hang out. Only our bedroom and our office are kinda set up.

It's wonderful! And chaotic as I said. But we have no good way to make a breakfast. It's also a very busy time of year for my husband and he was hungry. And it's snowing to beat the band. And it's 6 above which, right now, is rather balmy. A week or so ago, it was 30 below. For real. Not a windchill of 30 below, but for reals and true 30 below zero. The coldness of which our area hadn't seen since the 90s. Wow it was cold! Crazy cold. We were actually trapped (a dramatic word, yet technically true) in our house for a day. We only have access to 1/2 of our garage since a large dumpster is in the drive way so our Jeep Wrangler had to be outside. Wouldn't start that cold morning. Triple A couldn't get to us with all the stranded people on the highways that were in danger. We were safe and warm. We just couldn't get to work. I couldn't get to our satellite office to open it and our assistant couldn't get there either. Her car wouldn't start either. What a thing! If anyone reading this (brave and lovely soul) I'm thinking you have no idea what 30 below zero means. We barely knew what it could mean and we live in this place! Wow!

So - with all that aside, we are remodeling our house! It will be lovely.

Front

Back

Kitchen/ Living area before

floor and cupboards done

help from a furry-friend

progress photo

I sometimes feel crazed. I am one who does enjoy order in my life. It's anything but that. I have been eating my feelings a little. But I do that anyway. I know the end result is within my grasp. In spite of me! I have a photo in my mind how it will look when finished. I pray that is the reality.

New home - new life.

Knocking Some Sense

I'm getting the bedroom ready for our littlest grandson, Nugget. Unpacking his and his brother's suitcase and readying the space for his "binky-time" as it's called.

I stand up quickly from the nightlight I was plugging in and cracked my head so hard on a little overhang in that corner of the room that I literally saw stars. I have a goose egg now that I'd love to call the Gray Goose, but I do color my hair so ha! That, just now, reminded me of a childhood nickname I had in school that I was not so fond of. Goosey. Because I've often been silly and annoying? Probably. I do remember HATING that name. Too sensitive always.

When I was in my 20s and dating my wasband my nickname was Dizzy. I did love that nickname, but there is a pattern emerging? Admit it girl. You can be a goose. Work in progress always and forever apparently.

I was seeing a therapist a couple of years ago and while telling my story (get this - I felt odd monopolizing the conversation - during my own therapy! I don't seem to have that problem in the world - I can monopolize with the best - what a bitch I can be) he asked me why I always feel any problem/situation/concern/conflict is only and always my fault. I have no answer. I have to say in my mind I am a bitcher and complainer so it never seems to me that I am a self-inflicted victim. I bitch incessantly about others - mostly to feel better about myself yes? Sheesh human beings are so predictable.

Yet, while telling him my story I pointed back at myself. Probably to elicit his sympathy. Eventually I ran away from therapy when the going was becoming difficult. Who wants to know why you suck? I need to stop fear around knowing the why of what I am and either keep the receipt for who I am or get my ass to the exchange counter and try harder.

I love Jane Fonda. I was watching her documentary where she is so honest with the things she's done wrong, taking that time to admit and lay it out there. But I sensed no self-flagellation around her confessions. She actually said during an interview in the documentary that, "I am what I am." No guilt around her past behaviors, yet a total awareness of what she had done and how it had effected others. I loved that. I admire her. Teach me Jane how to be so self-aware or strong or accepting of self. Seriously love all of her.

I keep reading that after a certain age we adults know how to maneuver in this world. We do? I think I was absent that day in class.

Knocked myself silly.
Knocked some sense into me.
Knocked off from work.
Knocked off a piece.
Knocked on the door.

It might be time to knock it out of the park.

Day Eleven - Meaningful Experience

My week at a glance!

USPS - really?

What is happening right now?

Sweet baby-face girl. 

Sweet baby-face boy.

Two faces checking me out. 

Okay, I give up plow-guy, seriously? Ha!  😖

Day Ten - Meaningful Experience

Okay now.

Bumps in the road always let you know what's loose in your car. It's lovely!

Yesterday was breakfast out with the family. Happiness is truly sitting around a round table and being utterly charmed by the sweetness and happiness that is on grandchildren's faces. It's mood-swinging.

This video isn't from yesterday, but look at little self learning new things! Swoon.

Day Nine - Meaningful Experience

Checking out our new office space, taking notes, deciding where, what, how and knowing this is a huge move forward for us.

xxoo

Day Eight - Meaningful Experience

I'm writing about yesterday, but right now I'm sitting here waiting for Davie to come back to the door. This little puppers loves to be outside and will run around out there for the longest time! I'm fretting right now because she hasn't come back for what seems the longest time and it's dark out there. Gah this little puppy. And she doesn't listen to me a whit when she's outdoors. In all honesty, she doesn't listen to me much. 😒

Taken yesterday

Damn Davie! 😆

Okay . . . I went out in the 30 degrees (heatwave!!), walked to the top of the driveway, looked back at the door and there she was. Little monster! Ha

So, meaningful experience. Am I missing the intent behind this exercise? Wouldn't be the first time.

Before

After

Clean space - clean mind.

xxoo

Day Seven - Meaningful Experience

I'm at the lake for the weekend for my 3-4 week check on the place.

That is meaningful all by itself.

I was listening to a podcast (latest obsession) last week and part of the talk was about order and simplicity and how when your physical world is in order you feel in order. I've known this my entire life!

When I had my corporate job my boss was constantly baffled by my needing a vacation day from time to time to organize and clean house. I would always tell her, "when my floors are clean, my mind is clean."

That's what I'm doing today. Cleaning my happiest of happy places and finding a new clean space in my mind.

Day Six - Meaningful Experience

This isn't getting easier! I am apparently meaningless! 😄

But I'm not.

Let's say here on this blank post-page that Thursdays are always a meaningful experience for me. I spend hours with my Bella while she's getting chemo and we are never at a loss for things to talk about. The mother/daughter thing. It's powerful and baffling and splendid.

xxoo

Taken on the day she cut her hair. Look how those two have the same eyes!

Day Five - Meaningful Experience

I got nothing.

. . . thinking . . .

gah . . .

I want to default to my grandsons, but I must have some meaningful experiences on my own.

Okay - my Pup is beginning to work late as season is nearly upon us. Our puppers, Davie, sleeps in bed with me, along with two cats, and when Pup comes to bed Davie automatically jumps down and gets into her kennel. Then in the morning when I get up, I let her out, feed her breakfast, and then she runs back upstairs and gets into bed with Pup.

She's cute and sweet and annoying. Exactly how this is meaningful I'll deal with later. I don't have a current photo!

blah blah blah

Not into this today . . .

Day Four - Meaningful Experience

I consider myself a reader, yet for several years I hadn't been doing much of it. I'm not counting my internet readings of the news or the random nutrition book I'd pick up, but true and real reading.

I started back up last April while Pup and I were in Mexico after season. I read Alec Baldwin's autobiography (and fell further in love with his flawed and awesome self). I devoured it. Then I went into my iBook app on my iPad and read book after book. And around the pool during the day I had two printed novels I had picked up for vacation and I was devouring them as well.

It hasn't stopped - this newfound love of books.

I sleep pretty good these days. Partly because if I do wake too early I pull out my iPad and pick up where I left off and read for a half hour or so and eventually drift back to sleep.

Drifting while dreaming about what I was reading. I am finding how to be still.

Day Three - Meaningful Experience

The idea behind this exercise is when we use our thoughts in different ways, the new ways - and hopefully fresh and splendid ways - will become rote, automatic, and gently bend our brain pathways in that improved way.

I think that's what it all means.

For me, allowing my mind to go to the dark places it loves isn't serving me any longer. I want joy - not necessarily happiness, but joy to infuse me.

I recently read that joy is happiness for no reason. NO DAMN reason. I loved reading that! Being happy all the time seemed unattainable and idiotic. That's a strong word - idiotic - but I'm leaving it in for now. I probably shouldn't write these right when I'm sipping my morning coffee! Or is this the true thinking and not the governed thinking I'll have later in the day when I apply my reason to it?

Oh dear!

Regardless.

Day three is tough to pin down. I worked from home. A sidebar on that - we recently bought our third business, hired some staff (they start next week), and acquired some staff. I've never had staff before and I'm struggling a bit.

It will all work out. I'm applying joy to the workplace as well. Although yesterday I did sink into my usual way. In my mind compliance is the right way (for staff) and patience is not my strong suit. I'm applying grace to this situation and seeing what today will bring.

So . . . I'm handling a very long list of biz to-dos and clearing out the final vestiges of Christmas. Yes - I'm that girl this year. It's been a long time coming! Now The Big Room looks bare and sad without the tree in the corner.

I'm also juggling loads and loads of laundry. Bags and bags of trash. Dishes. Dirty wood floors. Bunches of things laying about that had become homeless. Interior windows that had become filmy. Vacuuming that needed doing. Now the house is shining - at least the places I gave love to are.

So I'm looking for my moment. The thing I keep thinking about is our newish puppy. We adopted her from a rescue when she was six weeks old back in September. What the hell were we thinking! We have no idea what she is and now she is around six months. And a live wire. And goofy looking. And adorable.

So while I'm flitting here and there, cleaning and organizing and laundering and checking off my list, she's following me from room to room. Chewing, trash-diving, frolicking, Being my little PITA. I love her and am exasperated by her.

She's longer now and this shot is from the Lake House. Look at that face!

She would settle in on the couch, her office bed, the ottoman in The Big Room only to have to move because I left that space and had gone to another space. She only wants to be where I am.

That might keep her safe and alive through this puppy period! Joking.

She's a perfect distraction for me and comforting with her little warm body and deep brown eyes.

xxoo

Day Two - Meaningful Experience

A scattered day. A good day. In the winter, during the busy season, we like to go to breakfast on Sunday mornings with parts of our family. Usually it's Pup's momma, Bella and the boys, occasionally Lorenzo and her Randalian, and any other random family members that want to come.

Yesterday was the first.

This right here was the moment.

The little jelly-smeared face. The Old Navy sweatshirt. The face. How our baby is more a toddler and looking like a grown boy.

xxoo

So . . . With All That Said . . . Let's Work on Happiness - Day One

I am smart AF

Yeah, I'm MacGyver

One meaningful experience every day written down for 21 days.

Mindfulness - this is my goal. The thing I am wanting to stretch towards. I have not a clue how to attain this, but I'm in.

Yesterday's Experience.

I'm in an old-school cafe. The likes of I haven't been in for decades! At least this particular type of cafe/pub. I'm not really certain what to call it. The establishment's name: The Best Steak House. Of which it isn't. But what it is is a great place for my memories.

When I was a very young adult; I'm speaking to my 17-19 year-old self, my friends and I were so young, and so broke, and so always needing a place to hang out as we weren't old enough to hit a bar. We would frequently go to this place, The Best Steak House, and have lunch or dinner.

The draw for this place was mostly economics. It was a cafeteria-style restaurant. You'd grab a tray, order, pick up your utensils, and find a booth. We girls enjoyed mild flirtations with the handsome Greek sons that worked at this family business and I have memories of these boys/men (they seemed so old to us! They were probably 25+) one of the boys always giving me a hard time for continuously ordering "meeeelk."

For $1.04 (back in the early 70s) you could get a hamburger steak, a baked potato with butter and sour cream, a salad, and a beverage. For me "meeelk" I'm guessing. Ha! Now get this - I can remember my typical winter outfit! What a mind I'm dealing with here. I would be wearing jeans with boots, a white t-shirt or sweater of some kind, and a long gray wool coat. I'd wear this outfit today! I'm classic. Age-wise and fashion-wise yes? Forgive me on my lack of wit - it's hella early here in Chez Emerson-land.

So . . . back to the meaningful experience.

Yesterday I went with my daughter Bella and my grandson Spud to get her hair cut. As Spud and I were sitting in the little lobby area and looking out the window on the brilliantly sunny and bitterly cold day I saw "The Best Steak House" directly across the street from the salon.

So there we are - the three of us. Bella and I enjoying a small sirloin steak medium rare and having a wandering chat about wandering stuff. We were in the moment. Talking about being in the moment with each other! Watching Spud turn A1 and Heinz 57 bottles into barriers and roads for his semi-truck to maneuver through. Knowing in my heart this moment is a keeper.

xxoo