The Unexpected New Season: Joy

 

This weekend, the unexpected happened.  My husband, who has never been seriously ill in all of our thirty-four years together, who never needed to see a doctor for anything but routine labs, died.  

In the midst of the month when I've had big emotions, when I've written and have upcoming posts already written about big emotions, this comes into my life.  Nothing you've read prior to this and nothing you read after this for the month of March is about the most mysterious thing of all, and that is Joy.

Yesterday I was a married woman.  Today I am a widow.

Big Emotions Pt. 1: Anger

As a child growing up in what at best could be described as an angry household, anger was the most punishable offense we children could commit. Looking back now, I find that ironic to say the least.  Why should it be so?

It was how anger was handled in our home that seemed rather messed up.  No slamming of a bedroom door, no raging at the adult who was calling us out on our actions.  That part was reasonable.  What was less reasonable was the expectation that we'd show no emotion at all, never admit or own to any anger at any time.  Injustices were to be suffered in silence, without speaking up.  If we did, then we were punished physically as well as with verbal and emotional abuse.  We were meant to simply accept the situation and immediately correct our actions to suit the controlling adult.  All anger you see, was seen as disrespect.  And disrespect was always followed by punishment.

Going In Circles

 

The other day I was listening to a sermon, a very good sermon I might add, but also a difficult one.  It was difficult because it opened up within me a world of painful memories.  The pastor spoke about his childhood, a disappointing childhood, a hard childhood and how even at school he found himself compared too often to another boy, one whose family life was stable, who hadn't the things against him that the pastor was experiencing in his childhood life.  The pastor spoke of his hurt, his loss of hope, the sense of never being enough.  Indeed, not just feeling he would never be enough but being told by grown-ups in his life that he wasn't enough.  Not smart enough.  Not responsible enough. Not good enough.  Not stable enough.  

Promises to Myself, Part 2

As I write, it is the first week of March.  I restarted The Artist's Way about two weeks ago.  It is my second time through the book.   To date, I have yet to go on a single artist date. I'll wager by the time this post is published I'll still not have gone on one. The dates are meant to be a mere two or three hours carved out of a week, and it's supposed to benefit the Inner Child, the one who is the true Artist Within.  What's more, I made a promise to myself for March that I'd go on one Artist Date each week, as the author requested.  I don't want to break a promise to myself but by the same token, I don't want to go on an Artist Date either.

What is the issue?

Spring Fever

 

The birds started it.  I went outdoors yesterday morning, and they were fairly screeching in their excitement to start their housekeeping.  

I have been a dynamo this morning and though I've only been up about 3 hours at this point in the day, I have accomplished a great deal.  I've only just sat down to have a late breakfast and to sit here and brainstorm my way into this new season ahead...I am ready for a fresh wind to fill my sails for Spring.

We are on the cusp of a new season.  I am ready for the changes ahead.

Unreasonable, Impractical Me

 

As a daydreamy sort of child, I often made the mistake of sharing the fantasies in my head.  "Oh, Terri," someone would say, "be reasonable!"   I didn't stop daydreaming.  I did stop sharing my dreams.

As a young adult, living an all too ordinary life and still daydreaming of many things, I once voiced my thoughts out loud to a friend.  "Oh, Terri," she said, "You're always such a romantic.  You're not at all practical."

The Value of Mistakes

 

I've been working with my grandson Isaac over the last few weeks.  He's just turned nine.  He has a computer-based series of lessons he must do each day after school.  Each week is geared towards something they are currently learning at school in both Math and English language arts.

This week, we both got stumped by a lesson on prepositional objects.  The computer program he uses is designed to tell you when you get an incorrect answer and explain in detail why your reasoning was at fault as well as showing the correct answer and the reason why its correct.

Promises Made for March

 

Promises...Oh, how I struggle to keep those I make to myself!  So instead of making goals or focusing on only how I might work hard this month I am going to focus on keeping the promises I'll make for myself in March.  I am not going to lock myself into keeping every single one, but I'm going to focus on keeping as many as I can or at least making an attempt to start these things. That's my one goal for the month: make good on my own promises!

The "Real" Authentic Life

 

Recently, a friend who has been encouraging me triggered a load of emotion: angst, anger, and shame.  Did he set out to do any of those things?  Not at all.  He merely asked a simple question, meant to be an encouragement, a gentle shove to what he perceives is the next natural step with my writing.  And it IS the next step, but I've been hesitating for too long on the brink. 

I resented the question mightily.  And that forced me to stop and examine a whole load of stuff I've been shoving into the dark closets to be dealt with later...sort of like that pile of mending and ironing I haven't attended to that is growing into a ridiculous sized pile.

The Mean Girl

 

I wrote last month about the Inner Critic, whom I called I.C.  Karla commented on the post and stopped me in my tracks.  "The Mean Girl" she called I.C.  And I knew from the chills that ran up my arm she had absolutely named exactly who that critic was.

Me.  I'm the Mean Girl.

Random Thoughts: Taking Care of Myself

 

I'm tired.  We're just coming off a long weekend and a busy start to this week.  Today was our first 'down' day.  And so of course, I've spent the entirety of the day trying to catch up on household things, and do a bit of writing, and make sure I get supper well started because I have kids to keep this afternoon and I've fretted over a half dozen jobs that need to be seen to seemingly right away but I'm not getting to at all.

I've been rushing myself all afternoon long, and I'd been sitting here writing and I thought, "Oh golly, this is too much.... Oh gosh, this doesn't sound good at all...Oh goodness why can't I make sense of anything?"   And when I paused for a moment, I realized, I am tired.  I could happily close my eyes and take a nap sort of weary.  I've done too many 'should' tasks today, this week thus far and I'd not considered that I was too weary when the day started.  I'd fallen into bed last night and gone right to sleep and had to push myself to get out of bed at all this morning.