There might have been things I missed, but don't be unkind
It don't mean I'm blind
Perhaps there's a thing or two I think of lying in bed
I shouldn't have said
But, there it is
You see, it's all clear
You were meant to be here from the beginning
Maybe I might have changed and not been so cruel
Not been such a fool
Whatever was done is done - I just can't recall
It doesn't matter at all
You see, it's all clear
You were meant to be here from the beginning
Emerson, Lake, & Palmer
Restless as hell today, unaccountably so. Been down for a day and half, in pain. Still down, to all extents and purposes, but I felt it inappropriate to stay home anymore. The compromise was to come in late today. I could have used another day on the couch, doing nothing, but responsibility is far more important to me. Accountability.
The Captain has a chance at a new, better job on campus, and the suspense is killing us. He needs and deserves this job; I need him to get this job. Things will be better for us, in so many ways, if he gets this job. Of course, there are no guarantees that he'll get the job, despite being the ideal candidate. But if he gets the job, we'll be that much closer to the life we've wanted for so long. Perhaps that's the source of the restlessness: the suspense, the desire to run away, just in case things don't play out how we want them to.
I seem to dream more, now that I use the sleep protocol I'm currently using to promote sleep, versus pills. I don't know how I feel about this dreaming more. The dreams seem more full of people I know or am related to than dreams in years past, and I certainly don't know how I feel about that, other than lonely - it makes me miss those people.
I've gotten rusty in the language of pain. I've gotten rusty in the language of the Road. I feel so far from Home. I feel like there is no secular salvation for me.
But this will all pass, it always does, in the face of an annihilating mania that burns off the bullshit and leaves behind the best things, the good things - even those things which others might not consider good. I've still a lot to learn...
Understand: these fires never stop...
I will hear: the promise of my Orpheus sing...
8.17.2010
8.09.2010
I begin to wonder...
I begin to wonder if I ever really knew myself. I always thought I did, and was proud of the degree of self-awareness I achieved before adulthood. I was and am still grateful that I'd awakened to wisdom before becoming an adult and that I was able to avoid mistakes and come to realizations that I have since become aware that most folks do not arrive at until they are middle-aged.
But in the last few years, I've come to doubt my self-awareness. I've come to doubt my self-knowledge. I have never doubted my wisdom; perhaps that is prideful, but lacking in common sense as I do, wisdom is my main recourse in most things, and has seldom led me wrong.
The husband and I had a terrible fight last night, terrible indeed. It's perhaps the worst we've ever had, in fact. And lately - in the last six months - we've fought A LOT. I wanted to attribute it to the on-going stress he was under while in school and his dissatisfaction with his current job, and then on top of that, Lu's death. But last night I realized it wasn't any of that at all, and I confronted him on so many things I'd just let go. I wish I'd realized sooner, and I wish it hadn't gone down like it did. But there's no sense in regret, and I have hope that things will improve. Things can only get better from here. We both realize that there are things we both need to work on about ourselves.
So the question is, since I've been out of practice so long (since I assumed I'd achieved remarkable self-awareness and wouldn't have to work on it for a while): how does one go about learning (re-learning?) about one's self? How does one reacquaint the self with the Self?
I know it won't be easy, and it shouldn't be. But right now, I'm at a loss as to how to start.
But in the last few years, I've come to doubt my self-awareness. I've come to doubt my self-knowledge. I have never doubted my wisdom; perhaps that is prideful, but lacking in common sense as I do, wisdom is my main recourse in most things, and has seldom led me wrong.
The husband and I had a terrible fight last night, terrible indeed. It's perhaps the worst we've ever had, in fact. And lately - in the last six months - we've fought A LOT. I wanted to attribute it to the on-going stress he was under while in school and his dissatisfaction with his current job, and then on top of that, Lu's death. But last night I realized it wasn't any of that at all, and I confronted him on so many things I'd just let go. I wish I'd realized sooner, and I wish it hadn't gone down like it did. But there's no sense in regret, and I have hope that things will improve. Things can only get better from here. We both realize that there are things we both need to work on about ourselves.
So the question is, since I've been out of practice so long (since I assumed I'd achieved remarkable self-awareness and wouldn't have to work on it for a while): how does one go about learning (re-learning?) about one's self? How does one reacquaint the self with the Self?
I know it won't be easy, and it shouldn't be. But right now, I'm at a loss as to how to start.
7.26.2010
the stars are bright tonight
...there's a strange new music in the street...
Dreaming of Home under a winter sky; dreaming of the world under a fall sky. These are my consolations on this bitterly humid and hot day, almost four weeks out from Lu's death. Most of the time I don't expect to see her little fuzzy butt swaggering into the bathroom in the morning, though every once in a while I do. Or I think I catch her out of the corner of my eye, sitting in the front window. It still hurts, to think of her, but not as much as it did. I don't know that time heals all wounds, but I know that the more time I have to make peace with her death, and the more I remember the good times, the better things get, the easier the grief gets to live with.
Have been experimenting with stimulus control therapy to deal with my insomnia. Thus far results have been satisfactory. The protocol includes viewing pleasant pictures prior to bedtime, then utilizing an app on my iTouch called "Sleepmaker Storm" to create thunderstorm sounds all night long. Bedtime, until last night, was 11pm. I've been sleeping better than I have in years, and it's surprising. With a little attitude adjustment and a simple but relaxing protocol, sleep has come more naturally and deeply and quickly than ever with pills. Last night I changed bedtime to 11:30pm and have regretted that, but now I know the ideal window for bedtime is 9-11pm. Tonight I shall try 10-10:30pm for bedtime and see how that works.
Wrangling the demon Insomnia is encouraging, and it's inspired me to try non-pharmaceutical alternatives for my pain problems. I have a muscle in my left shoulder that stays tight, no matter what, left over from a sprain in college. It was very, very painful yesterday, but did not respond to Alleve (which I prefer now to my painkillers) or prescription muscle relaxers. But when I put on a long-sleeve shirt over my t-shirt, effectively creating more warmth for my shoulder, the pain eased off. My sister has always believed in heatwraps and pads; I may well become a believer as well.
If only all one's demons could be so easily treated and dealt with! But we learn, and we grow, and at least I'm 31 and learning all these things now, rather than later. That has been one of my consolations over the years: wisdom has meant that I have learned things sooner and faster than I ought, and that has helped me cope.
...just to keep the flame from going out...
Dreaming of Home under a winter sky; dreaming of the world under a fall sky. These are my consolations on this bitterly humid and hot day, almost four weeks out from Lu's death. Most of the time I don't expect to see her little fuzzy butt swaggering into the bathroom in the morning, though every once in a while I do. Or I think I catch her out of the corner of my eye, sitting in the front window. It still hurts, to think of her, but not as much as it did. I don't know that time heals all wounds, but I know that the more time I have to make peace with her death, and the more I remember the good times, the better things get, the easier the grief gets to live with.
Have been experimenting with stimulus control therapy to deal with my insomnia. Thus far results have been satisfactory. The protocol includes viewing pleasant pictures prior to bedtime, then utilizing an app on my iTouch called "Sleepmaker Storm" to create thunderstorm sounds all night long. Bedtime, until last night, was 11pm. I've been sleeping better than I have in years, and it's surprising. With a little attitude adjustment and a simple but relaxing protocol, sleep has come more naturally and deeply and quickly than ever with pills. Last night I changed bedtime to 11:30pm and have regretted that, but now I know the ideal window for bedtime is 9-11pm. Tonight I shall try 10-10:30pm for bedtime and see how that works.
Wrangling the demon Insomnia is encouraging, and it's inspired me to try non-pharmaceutical alternatives for my pain problems. I have a muscle in my left shoulder that stays tight, no matter what, left over from a sprain in college. It was very, very painful yesterday, but did not respond to Alleve (which I prefer now to my painkillers) or prescription muscle relaxers. But when I put on a long-sleeve shirt over my t-shirt, effectively creating more warmth for my shoulder, the pain eased off. My sister has always believed in heatwraps and pads; I may well become a believer as well.
If only all one's demons could be so easily treated and dealt with! But we learn, and we grow, and at least I'm 31 and learning all these things now, rather than later. That has been one of my consolations over the years: wisdom has meant that I have learned things sooner and faster than I ought, and that has helped me cope.
...just to keep the flame from going out...
7.14.2010
The Power of Orange Knickers | Tori Amos featuring Damien Rice
The power of orange knickers
The power of orange knickers
The power of orange knickers
Under my petticoat
The power of listening to what
You don't want me to know
Can somebody tell me now who is this terrorist
Those girls that smile kindly then rip your life to pieces?
Can somebody tell me now am I alone with this?
This little pill in my hand and with this secret kiss
Am I alone in this...
A matter of complication
When you become a twist
For their latest drink
As they're transitioning
Can somebody tell me now who is this terrorist
This little pill in my hand that keeps the pain living
Can somebody tell me now a way out of this -
That sacred pipe of red stone could blow me out of this kiss
Am I alone in this...
Shame shame time to leave me now
Shame shame you've had your fun
Shame shame for letting me think that I would be the one
Can somebody tell me now who is this terrorist
This little pill in my hand or this secret kiss
Am I alone in this kiss
Am I alone in this kiss
The power of orange knickers
The power of orange knickers
Under my petticoat
The power of listening to what
You don't want me to know
Can somebody tell me now who is this terrorist
Those girls that smile kindly then rip your life to pieces?
Can somebody tell me now am I alone with this?
This little pill in my hand and with this secret kiss
Am I alone in this...
A matter of complication
When you become a twist
For their latest drink
As they're transitioning
Can somebody tell me now who is this terrorist
This little pill in my hand that keeps the pain living
Can somebody tell me now a way out of this -
That sacred pipe of red stone could blow me out of this kiss
Am I alone in this...
Shame shame time to leave me now
Shame shame you've had your fun
Shame shame for letting me think that I would be the one
Can somebody tell me now who is this terrorist
This little pill in my hand or this secret kiss
Am I alone in this kiss
Am I alone in this kiss
7.12.2010
...a quiet broken by talking...
...and coughing. One of my silliest pet peeves is that I can't stand the sounds of coughing or sneezing. It's ridiculous, I know, but there it is. Most of the time I just tune those sounds out, but this morning one of my co-workers - working at the other desk - is coughing her fool head off, and it's driving me so crazy, I don't know what to do. It's making me angry, which is so stupid; it's just coughing, but it's making me angry. She always seems to have a cold or a respiratory infection, and it makes me wonder. As far as I know, she doesn't smoke...it's weird.
I'm anxious, on edge. The prospect of interacting with people today seems almost unbearable. The prospect of interacting with my co-workers makes me feel tired. I have to teach this morning, and I am not looking forward to it, which is telling, as I always look forward to teaching. The rest of the day after that will be spent at my desk, and that's just fine; I can put on my headphones and tune out the world.
I'm just feeling crazy. How much of that is the aftermath of Lu's death and grieving for Lu, and how much of that is natural mania, and how much of that is something else, I don't know. And what that something else might be, I don't know. I've never been comfortable with the unknown, and right now that seems exacerbated. I would like nothing more in the world than to hide away in the convent in Assisi, and spend my days in meditation and rumination and solitude.
I've often said that if Eric ever died, I'd likely go into a convent. That sensibility passed away one day, several years ago, though I'm not sure why. This morning it has been resurrected, though whether that was some deliberate action on my part, or simply the longing of a heart and the aching of a mind that are simply shot from living, I don't know. I don't seem to know myself or understand my motivations anymore, and I find that troubling.
It will not happen today or tomorrow, but I look forward to getting back to the gym and getting on the treadmill and checking out for a while. To perhaps picking up the weights again and letting my mind go while I work out. I think the time has come for limited social engagements; not that I don't love my family and friends and enjoy their company - I still very much love them and their company - but the solitude I was able to have over the weekend had a very good effect on me, and I think I need to cultivate that goodness and find more of it. I need to lay the world down for a while, and do something else.
I'm anxious, on edge. The prospect of interacting with people today seems almost unbearable. The prospect of interacting with my co-workers makes me feel tired. I have to teach this morning, and I am not looking forward to it, which is telling, as I always look forward to teaching. The rest of the day after that will be spent at my desk, and that's just fine; I can put on my headphones and tune out the world.
I'm just feeling crazy. How much of that is the aftermath of Lu's death and grieving for Lu, and how much of that is natural mania, and how much of that is something else, I don't know. And what that something else might be, I don't know. I've never been comfortable with the unknown, and right now that seems exacerbated. I would like nothing more in the world than to hide away in the convent in Assisi, and spend my days in meditation and rumination and solitude.
I've often said that if Eric ever died, I'd likely go into a convent. That sensibility passed away one day, several years ago, though I'm not sure why. This morning it has been resurrected, though whether that was some deliberate action on my part, or simply the longing of a heart and the aching of a mind that are simply shot from living, I don't know. I don't seem to know myself or understand my motivations anymore, and I find that troubling.
It will not happen today or tomorrow, but I look forward to getting back to the gym and getting on the treadmill and checking out for a while. To perhaps picking up the weights again and letting my mind go while I work out. I think the time has come for limited social engagements; not that I don't love my family and friends and enjoy their company - I still very much love them and their company - but the solitude I was able to have over the weekend had a very good effect on me, and I think I need to cultivate that goodness and find more of it. I need to lay the world down for a while, and do something else.
7.01.2010
My good girl is gone...
...we've buried her already, in the country, where we can visit her, and we know where she is, and she is safe and not suffering. She will always be our good girl, and we miss her so much, and we love her greatly. She is our feather in the wind, though the tides have caused the flame to dim...
"All of My Love" - Led Zeppelin
Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light
To chase a feather in the wind
Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight
There moves a thread that has no end.
For many hours and days that pass ever soon
The tides have caused the flame to dim
At last the arm is straight, the hand to the loom
Is this to end or just begin?
* Chorus: All of my love, all of my love, all of my love to you, now. (repeat)
The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again
One voice is clear above the din
Proud Arianne, one word, my will to sustain
For me, the cloth once more to spin
Chorus
Yours is the cloth, mine is the hand that sews time
His is the force that lies within
Ours is the fire, all the warmth we can find
He is a feather in the wind Robert Plant wrote this song after the death of his son Karac in 1977.
"All of My Love" - Led Zeppelin
Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light
To chase a feather in the wind
Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight
There moves a thread that has no end.
For many hours and days that pass ever soon
The tides have caused the flame to dim
At last the arm is straight, the hand to the loom
Is this to end or just begin?
* Chorus: All of my love, all of my love, all of my love to you, now. (repeat)
The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again
One voice is clear above the din
Proud Arianne, one word, my will to sustain
For me, the cloth once more to spin
Chorus
Yours is the cloth, mine is the hand that sews time
His is the force that lies within
Ours is the fire, all the warmth we can find
He is a feather in the wind Robert Plant wrote this song after the death of his son Karac in 1977.
6.29.2010
back into the fray...
...we thought Lu had been granted a reprieve; vet said it was likely an upper respiratory virus. He was waiting until he got her bloodwork back today to confirm the diagnosis. We thought she was out of the woods. But...
...it's not a virus. They think it's something in Lulu's brain, a parasite, but they don't have the facilities to deal with her situation. They will have to tap her cerebral/spinal fluid and run tests, which our vet can't do. He's referring us to the vet school down at LSU.
I'm looking at pet insurance policies.
I'm numb, but I'm getting close to the edge. It's not far away.
can't get you off my mind, it's only you I think about
I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what's happening to her. Helplessness is a terrible place, a terrible thing. I hope she's not in pain, hope she's not suffering.
She's my good girl. Always and forever.
...it's not a virus. They think it's something in Lulu's brain, a parasite, but they don't have the facilities to deal with her situation. They will have to tap her cerebral/spinal fluid and run tests, which our vet can't do. He's referring us to the vet school down at LSU.
I'm looking at pet insurance policies.
I'm numb, but I'm getting close to the edge. It's not far away.
can't get you off my mind, it's only you I think about
I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what's happening to her. Helplessness is a terrible place, a terrible thing. I hope she's not in pain, hope she's not suffering.
She's my good girl. Always and forever.
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