Saturday, September 14, 2013

becalmed


It has a been a really rough week(and more) a combination of far too much heat, being sick enough for three days that work needed to be re-scheduled, and emotional stress, but our plucky heroine felt just a tad brightened today by finding a cylindrical parcel in the mailbox all wrapped about with moustache duct tape... and inside, a pair of gorgeous hand carved tasting spoons, made for me by the very talented Seb Barnett... One is oak and the other is brazilian walnut, polished with grapeseed oil and beeswax; they are as long as common kitchen wooden spoons, but with small narrow deep bowls, suitable for dipping out a wee taste of something cooking on the stove. There is nothing better that having the artwork of other artist friends to use in daily life.

Look at the detail on this acorns and oakleaf finial, so perfect for my kitchen and done, of course, in oak.

The other tasting spoon has a wee fat bird as a finial, somewhat reminiscent of the hens that should be living here, and definitely perfect for Portland! The walnut has such a rich color. Really, cooler weather can't come soon enough for me, so that there will be soup, and stew, and sauces to cook and to taste...
:::

Girl has been thinking perhaps too much, about success and failure, about acceptance and settling, about disappointing the very folks one would least want to... Though it seems like all should be well, my med appointments show no overly untoward issues, and there is still a roof overhead and food in the cupboards, I am still waving in and out of feeling bereft, and unsure how to move from where I stand now to more solid ground. There are too many days when it feels like my life the last twenty years has been wasted, days when my heart is full of unshed tears, days when the only touch against my skin is the rough bark of the street tree that I lean against and water the ground with the pain in my heart.

There must be a way to find a new path to a place of balance... I have been working with SR, my acupuncturist, on the various focal points of pain in my body, and while my feet, with regular attention, are functional again, the new different pain in my shoulder seems to have a peculiar emotional content. While laying on the table this week, with needles in various places (particularly in the very cranky rotator cuff) a wave of sadness crashed over me and tears leaked down from my eyes across the sides of my face. Now mind, my most common thing when getting acupuncture is to fairly promptly fall asleep, and I did do that eventually, but there is something, for lack of a better term, stored in that shoulder that is not yet in my conscious awareness, but connected to the aforementioned issues.

What rings in my mind, when left to drift, is that I am still in limbo, still unwanted, still a failure. Twenty years ago I met someone who was all I'd ever asked for, save for one minor detail... that I was not what he was looking for. Though our lives have braided together in different ways over the intervening years, it feels to me now that some lack in self-confidence put me in the category of someone that he looks at with disappointment as to how little I do with the gifts of hand and eye I have been given, compared to what I could be doing (or maybe that is all in my head, being that he and I have never talked about it, that not being the sort of connection we maintain). Though Gryphon and I had throughout our year and a half together (and before) an ongoing conversation about who we were and what we wanted, in the end he chose C and left. Did my hard won choice to do my best to accept him as he was, not asking him to change for me, not putting up fences to limit his life and connection to others, somehow make me of lesser worth. I wonder, or is it that I chose him, but he didn't ever actually choose me... shall never know
The connections I have now, I cherish. All different, all valid, and none with the proximity that would allow more ongoing contact. Does this mean that I am settling for less than what I want or accepting what is possible... Girl is still really broken, despite months spent seeing a counselor... and I need to find a way to mend. The external scars are visible, the internal ones will always be there, but my spirit, that could heal, that could be mended, in the way that kintsugi, the japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold, creates a new beauty from what has been irreparably broken

2 comments:

  1. Except for my not being nearly as creative as you are, I see many parallels between your life and mine, including cancer -- I lost an eye to it but have been doing fine the last 18 years.

    After my cancer surgery I decided, "Enough with the years of depression and therapy!" and began taking Zoloft, which worked well for me. Somewhere along the line I added L-Tyrosine, which enhanced the Zoloft in a nice way. Sometimes anti-depressants become less effective over time.

    This last June I started gluten-free eating. The most amazing thing happened: I became cheerful and energetic! Gradually I reduced the Zoloft to half of what I was taking and kept the L-Tyrosine. I love living with the reduced Zoloft level; I feel more myself, with greater access to my inner life. Going wheat-free is increasingly easy, with lots of food options, and is not harmful as long as one doesn't overload on the many yummy gluten-free treats available. I wonder if I spent many, many years in depression caused by wheat! The book "Wheat Belly" by William Davis, MD, is a good guide to read.

    I now have occasional bouts of slight depression but they are easy to live with and are soon over.

    All the best to you. Don't give up hope! Help may be just around the corner, if you can just locate the right corner.

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  2. Oh Carol, I didn't even see your comment till today! I am glad to hear that you are doing well and congratulations on being an eighteen year survivor!, this life is a journey with twists and turns we never expect... I have been thinking about giving up wheat, as I have an assortment of symptoms and maladies that might be helped by that... I have not given up hope, I never do! One of my mottos is "Faith is the ground, stubborn is the crop" in that I am quite stubborn bout sticking around, because you never know what will be around the next bend in the road. My usual is to be cheerful, just now and again the darkness swoops down and all seems bleak. But one way or t'other I come round right again...

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