Friday, August 23, 2019

{my stream of consciousness...}

(Written 8-14-18):  I feel purged, not so much in relief, but glad things are settling down a bit. Daughter got to California safely, my husband's 2-week post-op check-up went smoothly, and my soul, while drained to an extreme, feels some lessening of strife.  Busyness strife.

Two kids left at home. This is the quietest it's been in years and years. And with one child gone, whether out of town, off visiting, or for some other reason, it totally changes the house dynamics. Doesn't matter which child.

Woodboy can now drive, but has been told not to lift anything heavier than a gallon milk jug for 2 more weeks. Extended past the initial first 2 weeks. I'm good with that, as is he.

(Written today, 8-23-19):  Giving myself a bit of a pat on the back for adjusting so well to my husband being home now, all the time. Thankful for the blessing of income, which allows him healing time.  Our church has been generous, plus he gets Social Security.  No worries there.

My brain still feels scrambled, though. My woodboy was talking yesterday afternoon about fixing his pick-up that sits in the driveway, and I honestly told him I couldn't handle ANY decision-making now, which would include talking about the expense of any further truck repairs, at least in the near future. He seemed okay with that, not that I was being all het up over it, but my emotional self is tired.

I crave ordinary. Crave it. And with my feeling still chaotic at times, which seems the norm, I find solace in order. Straightening the house before bed, maintaining a 'company ready' home, burning a fall candle catch my drift.  Order, for me, means security.

While healing time for my husband will be lengthy, emotional healing for me will be as well. My mom passed away, now, 6 months ago, and that takes some realization, plus my online friend in May...both still bring tears, and the fears and adjustments of the kidney donation hit me daily.  There seems to be a habit, in our family, of big stuff following big stuff, not allowing for a break. That's my issue.

Like tamping down a used up campfire and settling the flames, putting a cool cloth against a hot forehead, I'm trying to get 'me' back. Bless my heart, I'm all used up. These are the days I could use my mom from childhood. Tell me it'll be alright.

I'm reading an excellent book called 'Rules for Visiting' by Jessica Francis Kane, about a 40 year old woman who's on a journey of self- examination. I can relate to her awkwardness in terms of maintaining friendships, being one who seems to often be self-sabatoging in that area of my life.  Eyeroll. This is a book I'd buy a stack of and give out to all my friends, if you can catch the irony.

Anyway,  I'll be sad when I've finished with it.

Weekend of rest, hopefully rain. No drama, good food and restoration. Always babysteps, it seems.

Take care.