Friday's Child Redux

I love summer. I love to be outside. Summer in northern Michigan, however, can be disappointing. The current long-range forecast for this area calls for cooler temps and more rain than “normal.” Thanks El Niño.

In other words, Spring. April. For 3 more months. Ugh. 😒

Not hot, not sunny, mostly. Is it El Niño or climate change? Who knows? Ultimately it doesn’t matter, and it’s always possible “they” are wrong about the forecast. At any rate, it isn’t something I can control, so I just have to make the best of it. After all, it’s better than winter.

The abundance of rainy days and the GLOOM are hard for me, though. It’s summer. I don’t want to be inside. Been there, done that most of the fall and winter months. I can read, or write, art journal or do housework, watch YouTube or TV: what I’ve been doing everyday since November.

What I end up doing most days lately, though, is waste time playing a game, surfing the internet, or simply stuffing cookies in my mouth, feeling sorry for myself.

Is this adult behavior? Of course not. It’s me spitting into the wind and getting it back in my face, stamping my foot and taking my toys and refusing to play anymore because I’m unhappy with the way things are. The weather doesn’t care that I’m not happy. It’s just weathering. I’m the one wasting precious time because I’m disappointed and bored.

I should be rewarded for getting through difficult circumstances in my life, including surviving winter, with a warm and sunny summer. Right?

Mother Nature doesn’t see it that way.

Still, I want what I want. Waaa waaa waaa. This is not who I want to be, not how I want to feel, but here it is: I’m resentful of the weather.

Yikes.

Resentful of a limitation, really, and justice is something I clutch closely to my resentment: It’s not fair that I’m trying so hard to be a good person, to take care of my mom, do the right thing, and that I don’t get what I want in return.

Double yikes!

When I realize I’m making my life transactional, I know I’ve lost my way. This is not the mature, clear-thinking me. This is little girl me disappointed that life is not fair.

Sooner or later I remember…

NOTE TO SELF:

Resentment is a sneaky, back-stabbing liar. It slithers right up close without making a sound, and whispers its siren song seductively in your ear. Because it’s what you want to believe, the lies slip right past your “crap” sensor and are part of the story you tell yourself almost instantly. No editing, no critical review, just “Yeah, that’s how it is.”

So not fair.

It’s a lie. It’s a skewed way of viewing reality. It’s seductive because it makes you a hero. It claims that what you’re experiencing is Unfair! Not your fault! The worst thing that anyone has ever experienced! You, you poor soul, you have been treated horribly unfairly and you deserve so much better! Because you are fabulous and wonderful, and no one should treat you that way.

No doubt that that way is something difficult to deal with. No doubt that you are fabulous and wonderful. No doubt that you may have to mourn something you have lost, or give voice to your anger or disappointment, or heal in some other way. Probably you didn’t deserve it. Probably you were just living in the best way you could, and someone or something came along and treated you without regard for your wishes. Or maybe it was just Life (or the weather), that non-respecter of persons, that dealt you a blow you feel was completely unfair, and you just can’t let go of it. Because:

Why Me? Why, oh, why, poor unsuspecting, trying really hard just to get along, doing the best that I can every day, little ole me?

And there’s Resentment, standing next to you, saying, “Yeah, why you? Not fair, dude. Are you going to just let that go?” Resentment smiles and rubs your back, and hands you a piece of chocolate or a beer, and says, “Don’t worry. I will never leave you. I would never treat you as if you don’t matter. You’re safe with me.”

Except you are sooooo not safe now. You have just given your life away. You now have a lying scumbag in your brain telling you you’re justified in everything you do – being a crappy human being, treating other people horribly, failing to do the things you wanted to do and/or are responsible for, eating/drinking/whatevering too much. Expecting things to be different, thinking that life should happen the way you want it to because…well, you want it to.

Your life gets worse and worse – you’re dying – and yet you keep listening.

Resentment keeps whispering in your ear, “Not your fault. Not fair. You deserve better.” Meanwhile, it’s feasting on your brain, your heart, your lifeblood, getting stronger every minute.

It will eat you alive, believe me.

You have to see Resentment for the lying scumbag it is and send it on its way. Get some counseling, start journaling, meditating, praying – doing whatever you need to do to get over whatever that thing was that allowed you to be duped. Let it go. Forgive, forget. Life is hard. The weather sucks sometimes. People suck sometimes. You suck sometimes. Accept that. Move on. Live in the present, and let go of the past. Bad things happen to good people every minute of every day. There’s absolutely no reason you should be spared. You’re just not that special.

No one is.

Instead of WHY ME, consider WHY NOT ME? Be grateful for the things you have been spared and mourn/heal the things you weren’t. Feel sad for yourself, deal with the pain in whatever healthy way you can and move on. Don’t give Resentment the opportunity to get close enough to whisper its lies. Keep moving. Keep living.

It’s not easy; few things of value in this life are.

It is simple, though. If you don’t do it – if you don’t send Resentment packing – you will miss your life.

Your precious challenging, rain-soaked, beautiful human life.

One morning last week, I woke up to find a dead mouse on the bedroom floor. I have two cats, so not a big mystery as to how he met his end, but surprising, nonetheless.

Grace seemed pretty proud of herself, and not surprised to find the mouse where it lay, so I’m guessing she was the agent of its demise. Clare is a better hunter, but she’s downstairs most of the time, so I’m pretty sure we can chalk this one up to her.

I got a bleach wipe and carefully picked the little guy up, told him I was sorry, and tossed him into the used litter bin. All taken care of, right?

Not so fast.

I felt bad. That little mouse had a life, probably a family (who I hope doesn’t also live in our house), and he didn’t come home that day. Something alive and breathing was now doing neither of those things, and I was indirectly responsible for its untimely dispatch to the netherworld.

Grace is a cat, and it is her nature to hunt and destroy mice, so no blame here, just sadness at the loss of a life.

I go to a lot of trouble to liberate bees and flies and anyone else who manages to sneak into my spaces without harming them. I’m cool with spiders sharing my bathroom and will talk to ants until it’s clear they’re not listening to me, to try to inspire them to leave without incident. If I can catch them (they are SO fast!), I put them outside, too.

Grace and Clare do not share this charitable view of little interlopers, obviously, and they’re just doing what comes naturally when someone enters their space. I try to get to the bugs before they do, and I’m usually successful. I tell them not to come back, obviously, because Look! Cats! They will eat you! Tell your friends!

It doesn’t usually work, although I choose to believe that the next one that comes in is not the one I just shooed out yesterday, and that this new guy is not a friend of yesterday’s guy, so didn’t get the word.

No, I’m not crazy. 🤪

I simply do not in anyway feel that my life is more important than those smaller lives. We all have a role to play here.

I considered having a small funeral/burial for our little rodent friend, but that’s a bit much, even for me. I still feel sad, though, that it happened, I am also not just mildly surprised that I slept through the life and death struggle 3 feet away from me. I did find little intestines on the stairs, however, so it’s possible the actual murder happened elsewhere and Grace brought it in the bedroom so that I could see it and appreciate her handiwork.

Ew.

Psycho Killer, qu’est-ce que c’est?

My sweet little baby, my sweet smoochie bunny girl. A killer. Bringer of death. Grim Reaper. Gracie Mae Oobie-Shooz, the Mouse Destroyer.

It’s finally summer in Michigan. Not hot, but warm, and the last week has been sunny and lovely. The trees have leaves now and the lilacs and Lily of the Valley are blooming. My rose bushes are getting leafy and robust and the irises have buds. I think the hydrangea will survive, and that makes me very happy.

This is a nice time of year here in this small resort town. By the end of the month, traffic in town will be backed up and the tourists and summer residents will be swarming all over town. For now, however, and probably for the next couple of weeks, it’s just a little busier and the weather is delightful.

I haven’t been out on my bike yet, and that’s unusual, but I’ve been busy and it took longer this year for the temps to rise to the level that I find acceptable for riding these days (60+). On most of the best days in the past couple of weeks when I could have gotten out for a ride, I chose instead to rake or mow the lawns. Winter was harsh and there was a lot of Spring clean-up to be done at both houses.

I have been going for long walks on some afternoons, though, and getting reacquainted with the neighborhood I grew up in, as I do every year after the snow covers everything up and I mostly stay indoors for 6 months. I greet the lakes and my favorite trees and check on the woodpecker who lives nearby.

I’m a summer girl. I have a friend who used to call these wonderful sunny, warm days “Wendi-weather,” and nothing could be more true. This is most definitely “it” for me. I like the other seasons, and I like having seasons. I couldn’t live anywhere that was always the same. I relish the outer-ness of summer and the inner-ness of winter. Summer is my favorite, though, hands down, and I’m thrilled to witness its rebirth again this year.

We’re pretty far north, and summer goes by very quickly. I try very hard to be present to as much of it as I can, especially the beauties blooming in my flowerbeds, the butterflies and birds, and the bunnies who have lived here longer than I have, under the big cedar tree in the back yard. I watch for the deer who comes to visit most days when I’m sitting out in the yard under the big blue umbrella. Last year she brought her fawn to meet me and they came together all summer after that.

I’m close to the airport and several times a week I get to watch the skydivers drift down under their colorful parachutes against the bright blue sky. This week I’m watching the kids at the school across the street while I’m at my desk journaling, as they play games outside and run on the track for gym during these last days of school. Their excitement at the prospect of the unencumbered days ahead is palpable.

It’s all becoming visible again – life – and I’m here for all of it. It’s much easier to be present to all of it now that I’m retired, and I’m ever grateful for that. Yes, the town will fill up and I’ll curse the tourists and the traffic more than once in the next 100 days, but it’s all life. Every bit of it. The joy, the frustration, the ups and downs. The blooming and the dying. The inner-ness and the outer-ness. Wishing for something different or “better,” or wasting time being unhappy because the world is not what I want it to be, is simply not the best way to go through life.

Does that mean that I don’t do it? Heavens, no. Just this last week I had a complete and total meltdown for 30 minutes over a kerfuffle with the city over the water meter at mom’s house. I ranted about how unfair it was that I had to deal with that old house, when IT ISN’T EVEN MY HOUSE, and about how inefficient the city is and how expensive it is to live in this town and the exorbitant amount she pays in taxes and blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH! My 94 year-old mother just nodded and nodded and when I was finally all done, said quietly, “It’ll work out.”

And…of course, she was right. I called the city and we had it straightened out in just a few minutes.

I always seem to have a list of all the things that are “wrong,” or could go wrong in my life, and I spend more time than I should going over that list in great detail, usually in my journal, and sometimes just over and over and over again in the middle of the night after a challenging day. I know immediately that I’m spiraling into the muck when I start using or thinking the word “unfair.”

Nothing is really wrong, (or unfair) of course. It just is what it is. Life. I have a beautiful and fortunate life, with some challenges, like everyone else. I know just how lucky I am.

Unfair and what if are signposts on the road to resentment and unhappiness. Completely useless, too, as I don’t want to go down that road. Really, I don’t. Been there and done that for much of my early life. I want to be on the Loving What Is road, or the Be Here Now street. How about the It’s All Good trail?

I try, and I’m better than I used to be, but I’m not quite there. It’s not an automatic response to everything in my life, and probably never will be. That’s okay. Trying matters. and the only one suffering is me, really. Maybe my mom, who has to listen to the ranting occasionally, but now that she seems to have entered her Yoda years she doesn’t seem to mind.

I don’t think she even listens, and that’s just fine, too. No reason she should. She’s had her share of crap in her life. She doesn’t need to deal with mine, even if occasionally she or her house are the cause of it. That’s not intentional, and all of it is just as out of her control as it is mine.

I had a dream this week about bees–a huge swarm going overhead–and the person with me in the dream said, “Hmmm, a river of bees.” It stuck with me. and I hardly ever remember dreams, so I consulted the internet. Turns out there’s a poem with that title. A relatively famous poem by a relatively famous poet, W. S. Merwin. It’s a long poem, really vivid. Guess what it’s about?

The last lines are:

He was old he is not real nothing is real

Nor the noise of death drawing water

We are the echo of the future

On the door it says what to do to survive

But we were not born to survive

Only to live

I take that to mean: Don’t worry. It’s all good. No one survives this life. Sooner or later none of us will be real. Live while you’re alive, because it’ll all be over soon enough. Time passes and so do we,

Wise man, Merwin. Whitman, too. Happiness now, not later. It’s all good. Enjoy it while you can. Don’t Worry, Be Happy. Remember that song? Kinda sappy, but good advice, just the same.

All of it easier said (or sung) than done, but worth trying for, don’t you think? Especially in summer!

I raked on Memorial Day. I’m a Spring raker, and I don’t do all of the leaves, just the ones that accumulate in places I don’t want them to be: flowerbeds, driveway, walkways, porch. My mom’s house is much leafier than mine. We used to have a neighbor that accused my folks of having them shipped in. It takes me an hour or so to rake at my little house (flowerbeds mostly). It takes days to clear the mounds of wet leaves at mom’s.

So Monday I was doing the last bit at her house. It was a lovely day (finally, after two gloomy, rainy days) and I was out for about 2 hours. I did the patio and the walkway to the back yard (not a big deal) and then I started on the sidewalk by the alley. Ack. A big deal. It took the bulk of those two hours to get a 20-foot section of sidewalk along the fence clear, and the leaves out to the street for pick-up.

It’s done, though, and I was done in, but pleased to have it off the to-do list. So, yay me, and several of our neighbors were outside, too, so it felt sort of communal, which made my Aquarian heart smile. I wasn’t alone in my struggle! One neighbor rode by on her bike, and stopped to say “hello”, so I had a moment of envy, cursing my life choices, but good for her! It was, indeed, a great day for a ride.

The thing that was just a bit annoying was that my two immediate neighbors—one across the street (second-home weekenders) and the one next door (1/2 year residents)—were also outside working (great!) and they had loud music playing the whole time I was out there (not great!). Two different radio stations, unfortunately, one in each ear. Very loud.

I love music, and often have something playing inside, and outside occasionally – with earbuds. Because I have neighbors, and because I assume they don’t want to listen to my music, and because I TRY TO BE CONSIDERATE OF OTHER PEOPLE.

Not so with these guys. I’m guessing they are roughly my age. Both have white hair and can afford second homes, so not clueless teeny-boppers. I feel like they should know better. Two things about them are not the same as me, however: 1) they were both men, and 2) they are both wealthy.

I avoid pigeon-holing people, generally. We’re all different and no one on the outside can tell what’s going on inside. This I know for sure. I also believe that everyone does.the best they can. Somebody, (Maya Angelou?) said, “When you know better you do better,” and I believe if you don’t know better, then you can’t do better. You are truly doing the best you can. Right?

I don’t dislike men, and I don’t dislike wealthy people. I’ve dealt with both all my life and they are who they are just like everyone else. I’ve noticed, over the years, however, that some men, and some wealthy people think they matter more than other people, and that everyone around them should just deal with it. Sadly, that’s probably exactly what happens most of the time for them, perpetuating their world view.

This is not a character flaw. It’s upbringing and life experience. I’ve known women who feel entitled, too, though far fewer than the men I have known, and usually, though not always, because they are wealthy. I also have known plenty of really terrific men and some wonderful wealthy people. Nothing is ever one size fits all.

It’s all good. I think these two men are probably very nice and responsible people, and good parents, friends, etc. What they were not, in this particular instance, and perhaps in others, is considerate of people they don’t know. I choose to think that if I had gone over and introduced myself and told them their music was bothering me they would have been apologetic and turned it down or off.

I didn’t, though, because I TRY TO BE CONSIDERATE OF OTHER PEOPLE, and though the music was annoying, it wasn’t a big deal in the scheme of things, and neither am I. It was making them happy, I suppose, and at least it wasn’t music I don’t like. Also, I have learned over the years that I’m especially sensitive to noise, and that’s probably why I was so bothered, and also I have learned to accept that people will not always behave in ways I would like them to. The world does not bend to my will. Imagine that? In fact, that’s true for everyone at some time and on some level.

Mostly I just thought about how interesting it was that they were not at all concerned with me, or each other, even, and how different that is to the way I think.

We’re all different. That’s a good thing. What a boring life this would be without differences, and learning to live with differences. I believe that adversity is a good thing, too. It forces us to examine ourselves and our prejudices and beliefs about life and other people. That is how we get to be better humans, and more CONSIDERATE OF OTHER PEOPLE.

😇

I love to read, and I belong to a couple of local book groups. I love them because I end up reading books I probably wouldn’t have chosen on my own. The book we read for this month’s meeting was definitely one that was not on my radar, but I enjoyed it and it inspired a lively discussion.

The book was “The Names,” by Florence Knapp. The premise of the book is that a woman in an abusive marriage has to register her newborn’s name, and what happens when she chooses each of the 3 names she considers— 3 different outcomes, based on her decision. I highly recommend it.

Our group discussion revolved around several topics, but the one I found most intriguing was a theme I’ve thought a lot about, and have written about before. (The Life I’m Not Living). We talked a lot about the names we’re given and how, in some ways, they shape the way people relate to us, and so change the course of our lives to some extent. I would expand that to all of the decisions in our lives.

Some are really big, some really small. I think of them as doors—rows of doors for each choice—when you choose one, all of the others close immediately. You make your decision, open the door, walk through, and encounter whatever path your choice has put you on. You don’t know what’s behind the door until you open it. There is no way to know what was behind the other doors.

I was put up for adoption immediately after birth, and placed in foster care. My name was Sandra, and I didn’t have a family. I didn’t belong anywhere yet. I was in limbo for 3 weeks, The choices surrounding my birth and adoption were not choices I made, of course; they were made for me by lots of other people, most of whom I’ve never met.

My birthparents made the choice to relinquish me. My adoptive parents made the choice to adopt. I was chosen from a bunch of babies in cribs in a room in an adoption agency. My mother said she chose me because of my eyes. My name was put on a new birth certificate—Wendi—and, just like that, Sandra was gone. That life was over and a new one began.

What if my mother had picked another baby? What if my birthmother had decided to keep me? What if… I’ll never know. All of the decisions we make in our lives are not of that magnitude, of course, but there are a few like that in every life. Some decisions set us on a new path, whether we meant for that to happen, or not.

Even the small decisions, like deciding to take an alternate route one day could change everything, for better or worse. I think sometimes about a young couple I read about several years ago who followed their GPS down a road they had never taken before on the way home from a trip, They got stuck in the snow on what turned out to be a rarely travelled two-track,. They couldn’t get a cell signal, and ultimately they starved/froze to death.

Or the women who was walking the Appalachian Trail and stepped off to go to the bathroom, without marking her trail because she was sure she would remember how to get back to the trail. She didn’t, and she died in her tent.

I can think of at least two times in my life that I made a decision that could have cost me my life, but that didn’t. I was given a reprieve. I was lucky, and I didn’t push my luck in those ways ever again.

As a young woman, I made the decision to get involved with a man who ultimately changed the course of my life by being mentally abusive. I felt lucky to survive that situation. I never really made the actual choice to be alone after that experience, but I kept making the choice not to trust anyone that completely, or be that vulnerable, ever again, and that has determined my path. I did consciously, emphatically make the choice not to have children at a very young age, and that has impacted my life in many ways, also.

I made a decision to start a business, and 5 years later I made a decision to close the business and take a job, which I had for the next 24 years. Both decisions changed my life dramatically. I bought a house, and less than 4 years later my father died, and I became the caregiver for my mother, and moved in with her.

Few decisions are all good or all bad. Lots of doors opening and closing all through my life, as in all lives. When I look back, I feel that I have been on the right path for me–that I always chose the right door, even if I didn’t think so at the time. I’ve learned from the bad decisions, and benefitted from the good ones. I’ve survived, and that’s what seems important to me. The stupid decisions didn’t cost me my life, and the others were true to my sense of who I am and who I want to be.

My “faint tracings” in this life will not be remembered, or ever matter very much to anyone but me. I’m fine with that. For the most part I have lived in a way that was true to my soul, and I have no regrets. I no longer care what anyone thinks of me or my choices. I’m grateful for my life and I think I’ve been exactly where and who I needed to be throughout.

Knowing that makes me happy, and I can’t wait to see what’s next!

Photo by Filip Kominik on Unsplash

The last week has been tricky. Ups and downs – mostly downs – like a demonic roller coaster ride. I don’t like roller coasters. Merry-Go-Rounds are more my thing. Up and down, all around, slow and steady. No sudden movement. Life isn’t a county fair or an amusement park, though, is it? We don’t get to choose the rides we end up on. Right?

Right.

There is only what is, and when “what is” is challenging, we have two choices: 1) give up, or 2) get through. My first inclination, if I’m honest, is always to give up, but that doesn’t usually last too long anymore. I throw a tantrum, eat some chocolate, and then I’m good. Ready to get up and do what needs to be done, in the words of Garrison Keillor.

Late last week I had a lovely lunch with a friend at a new restaurant, which i didn’t think I would like, but that turned out to be very good. I hadn’t seen her in a long time and we had a nice chat and a lovely time. I was really feeling great, for the first time in a while. (It was a long winter.) I decided to run up to the store to pick up a couple of things before going home, and I made it there okay, but trying to leave the parking lot after shopping didn’t work out as planned. The front right wheel almost came off and my car was not going anywhere anytime soon. Ball joint? Axel rod? Ah, so that’s what the clanking noise was for the past couple of weeks. Who knew?

The tow guy was kind and helpful and I got my wounded baby to a garage, and it’s been sitting there since. They called early this week. It will be fixed by the end of the week, and will cost more than my monthly Social Security check. Yikes! The car is 15 years old, so this is not a huge surprise, but it was not what I was expecting for that day or that money.

So that was the biggest down, for sure, but there have been others, sort of stacking up lately:

1. I can’t get my tax refund from the state, even though I’ve provided all the additional documentation they requested. I went through this last year with mom’s refund, and she didn’t get it until August. Ugh!
2. I lost my driver’s license, so have been waiting for it to be replaced.
3. The critter in the wall at mom’s house is back. I guess because it’s been cold and rainy. I don’t blame it for revisiting winter digs, I guess. It drives Grace (cat) crazy, though, and it’s loud, and I don’t think it’s doing any damage, but I can’t be sure. So I worry, and I just wish it would leave. I’m hoping it will this weekend when the forecast says Spring will come back. We’ll see.
4. The new administrator for my HCSP has rejected every transaction I’ve submitted so far. I called the first time and they told me what the problem was, so on the last 2 transactions, I provided all the docs they said they needed (EOB, etc) and they still rejected them. So frustrating, and I’ll have to call again, and that just makes me want to scream.
5. I got sick a few days ago. I NEVER get sick. This crud really laid me low though, and I had to cancel plans with friends that I was looking forward to, cuz I felt crappy and I wasn’t sure I wasn’t contagious.
6. I planted a bunch of bulbs last fall, and have been looking forward to crocuses and tulips all winter. They started to come up a couple of weeks ago, and the bunnies ate every single plant. Not fair!
7. I think my beautiful hydrangea may not have survived the winter this year. We had a lot more snow than normal and it was brutally cold for a long time, so she may have succumbed. No sign of leaves yet, and there should be. Fingers crossed that she’s just taking her sweet time this year, and that she’ll be okay.

So that’s just the past couple of weeks. Don’t get me started about this past winter, which nearly did me in. The “again-ness” of life is just frustrating. The problems that defy permanent solutions. Same stuff, different day. It is demoralizing, and it gets me down now and again.

But even last winter there was good in the end – on the two heaviest snow days we had, the second one of which was 26″ of the white stuff in 36 hours in mid-March – my next door neighbor cleared the driveway at my little house with his snowblower, so that when I pulled up, expecting to shovel for hours, I was able to just pull in the driveway. Amazing! Also, our neighbor at mom’s house, who plows her drive for free, kept us in the clear all winter.

When I remember to look for the good, there is always some to be found. When I was sitting in my wounded car in the Family Fare parking lot last week, SO MANY people stopped to ask if they could help, or if I needed a ride. Some told me about their similar experience, including a couple guys who had the same thing happen while they were on the highway at 60 mph. Yikes! Of course, I was lucky that hadn’t happened to me. Really lucky.

The tow truck driver had originally said it would be at least 2 hours, but showed up within 45 minutes, and was kind and helpful and made me laugh. The garage I had to take it to cuz my regular place was booked solid for the next week, were also kind, informative, and helpful, even though I had never been there before. When my neighbors realized my car wasn’t in the drive, they texted me to offer rides to anywhere I needed to go until I get it back. In reality, though, my town is so small that I’m able to walk anywhere I need to go within 30 minutes, including my little house.

Being sick forced me to slow down and be easy on myself. I slept A LOT. I’m still a little sniffly, but so MUCH better. My replacement driver’s license showed up in the mail Tuesday. I have bunnies, That’s a good thing. They have lived under the big cedar tree in the back yard forever, and I love them. I can’t begrudge them a few snacks. Next year I’ll put up a little fence. So, disappointed, but it’s okay, and there’s a remedy. That’s the way with so many things, isn’t it? The other things will work out sooner or later, too.

I know that, cuz that’s what always happens. Always. There will be new things, but these particular things will all work out, for better or worse, and I will move on to something else, good or bad, or both.

Waiting is hard, but it’s life. So are the ups and downs. I wrote in my journal recently that I just want everything to be okay all the time. Then I laughed and laughed! Of course I can hope for that, but it will NEVER happen, and ultimately, it is my expectation that it should, that sets me up for disappointment.

In reality, I’m very lucky, and I realize that when I’m thinking clearly, which gratefully, is most of the time. Not so when I was younger, but age brings perspective and it has changed me in many good ways (in addition to some of the not-so-great ways. LOL!) The weather in northern Michigan is tough at times, but we don’t have hurricanes or tornados or tidal waves, or snakes, or spiders that can kill you with one bite. Some places do and people suffer.

We had flooding here this Spring that made life pretty difficult and expensive for many people. Not us. We were high and dry. Plenty of people struggle with illness, and I have been spared that so far, for the most part. I have good friends and neighbors. Some people are completely alone. I understand completely that the things I struggle with are very low on the human suffering continuum, but still I try to be forgiving of myself and compassionate to others I encounter who are struggling with something. We’re all entitled to our feelings, and our pain. Life is difficult in some way for everyone.

I remember my therapist asking me one time, years ago, who I wanted to trade problems/complaints with. She made her point–I’ll stick with my own, thank you. I have a magnet on my fridge that says, “Thanks Whatever Doesn’t Kill Me, I’m strong enough now.” Ha! I would have everything be okay all the time if I had the opportunity to choose that, but that’s just not the way this human life thing works. There is only one choice, and that is to just keep going. no matter what.

PS – while I was writing this, my refund was deposited in my bank account. 🙂 Also, the garage called again yesterday morning and told me that they discovered something else and that fixing that will be an additional $1000. 😦

Life! The roller coaster continues!

It’s all good.