22 May 2012

A short review

This will sound familiar to many of you:

I have started so many blog posts…
I have written so many posts in my head…
I have meant to get back here and keep you posted…

But, here I am.  Late, with not much to say, but here.

This weekend marks the one year anniversary of my mother’s cancer diagnosis.  Fucking cancer.

And, while the year hasn’t always been an unremitting shitstorm, there’s been a lot of crap and a lot of negativity. 

In July my old dog died.  Well, we knew that was coming.  In March T’s dog died.  That was unexpected. 

Three of my friend’s mothers died last year ~ one right before my mother and two soon after.  What’s up Universe?

On my birthday last month I had coffee with a friend in the morning and then she went home and tried to kill herself.  She was not successful, thankfully.  She spent two weeks in the hospital and is out now.  Several friends, myself included, are helping her get her life back together and get back on track.  This has required bringing over dinner (easy enough) and housework (sure) and spending the night at her house once a week or so.  Her therapist reassures us that we are not responsible for keeping her alive; that is her job.  We are there to remind her that she is loved and is a valued and worthwhile person.  And, while I am happy letting people know that I love them, this whole thing has shaken my confidence.  I mean, we had coffee together ~ and talked about her problems ~ and then she tried to kill herself.  Yes, I know that she was in the throes of a mental illness episode.  Still. 

But, wait, I hear you say.  What about the good stuff?  Come on, Pollyanna! 

Ok, yes, there have been good things.  The most significant is my daughter moving back to the PNW.  That has been great.  My pop is healthy, that’s a relief.  Despite my suicidal friend I had a good weekend away with my two besties and my daughter last month.  So, yeah, some good things.

But, I think I need a reboot.  A psychic realignment.  I’m out of sync with something and need to get back into rhythm.  To that end, I am planning on taking some days off when the school year is over and T’s niece goes back to Grandma for the summer.  I’m going to burn some incense and say some prayers and meditate.  I’m going to clear the energy of my house and my spirit.  I’m going to open all of the windows and doors and let them breeze blow through.  I’m going to look within and without.  I’m going to re-evaluate.


8thday said...

Yes, fuck cancer.

I am sorry I have been off the grid too, for oh so many reasons.

We shouldn't let so much time go . . .

Anonymous said...

I've been meaning to update also but life keeps getting in the way. I hope your friend recovers quickly and fully.

Here's to some quiet time in your house this summer!

Em said...

And my ability to tell people where I'm going apparently sucks.

I have so much to say about this. The short version is that I have learned that there are things that are my fault, but many that aren't. This wasn't your fault.

Happy birthday. Here's wishing you a wonderful year.

Grumpy Granny said...

I lost touch with your blog when I had to change browsers. So glad I looked it up. For very different reasons, I'm having many of the same feelings. I need a serious attitude adjustment. I wish we lived closer so WE could meet for coffee, have a great bitch session then go burn that incense and release all of it so we could start on a new page. One of these days...

Love and hugs!!

the only daughter said...

I'm with the clearing of the air, psychic cleansing deal-e-o. Fo. Sho.

Sorry about the bad. Glad for the good. May the coming days show you more of the latter and less of the former.


elf said...

Under the category "You have to laugh to keep from crying", I'd say you've got the makings of a great country song. Although, instead of the hippie dippy incense stuff, you'd have to substitute whiskey.

I hope your friend can find her way back to the light. She's lucky to have you there for support.

Enjoy your reboot and your daughter's closeness.