Friday's Child Redux

I love summer. Its color, warmth, life. If you know me at all, you know this about me. Not big news. I like all the seasons, but I LOVE summer.

When I was a kid, August was the hottest month. We used to complain when we started school in early September that we weren’t allowed to wear shorts, cuz it was still hot. That has changed in the last 60 years. July is now usually the hottest month, and August is sashaying, ever so slowly, into autumn.

Labor Day, the traditional end of summer in America, is less than a month away now. The kids will go back to school the day after in my small town. The cross country team, the football team, and the marching band have all started practice. The temps are still quite warm, but the light is different. It gets dark earlier, but beyond that, it’s just the slant of the sun, and the way it plays on the leaves, that says soon.

Soon everything will be pumpkin-spiced and bundled up against the cold north wind. It’s just a whisper now—change is coming—but it’s in the breeze, the yellow on the plant leaves, the light. I hear get ready as I notice the birds and the butterflies and the bees busy gathering up the last of the bounty as they anticipate their journeys elsewhere or hibernation here.

I’m counting the days: how many more bike rides, how many afternoons reading under the umbrella in the backyard, how many more times will I have to mow the lawn? With all due respect to the Beach Boys, there is no such thing as endless summer here in the north country. It’s fleeting and finite, even in the best years.

It’s all here and then it’s gone. In a rush – just like that. Poof! All the warmth, the bright golden sunlight, the flowers, the birds and the bunnies. Many losses in the coming weeks and months, and then the long, cold, dark winter.

There are good things, too, about this transition, though. The tourists will leave, and the summer residents, and so traffic will be less of a headache everyday as I try to make my way through town. The grocery store shelves will be stocked again and remain so throughout the week, so weekly shopping will be less like a desperate scavenger hunt and more like something that just needs to be done whenever it’s convenient.

I won’t have to wear sunscreen! I get to watch the marching band practice, and when I lived in this house full-time, I could watch the football games on Friday nights from my front porch. The little kids will have gym outside when school starts again, and I’ll get to watch them run around the track in the morning while I’m journaling. They’re a riot!

I’ll take the air conditioner out of the window in the hall upstairs at mom’s, so the sun will shine through in the morning again. That will make the cats happy. No insect people in the house, requiring gentle removal. Just usually a spider or two in the bathroom to keep me company through winter.

I will ride on Zwift, which is way less complicated and less dangerous than riding outside, though not exactly as much fun. Still better than it used to be when I couldn’t ride at all for 8 months out of the year.

I will start art journaling again, and doing other “inside” things. I’ll clean both houses, something I refuse to do in the summer. That will make my mom happy.

It goes fast, summer. It’s not over yet, though, and that’s what I’m focused on. I will soak up these last days, store them away, and pull them out in memory on the coldest February days.

Autumn is lovely in many ways, and I’ll get into the spirit of that soon, too. Usually I’m able to get in some good rides in September and October, with a few extra layers, of course, but that’s okay, too. No sunscreen! The trees put on quite a show, and I know some great gravel routes through the woods nearby, that I usually only ride in the fall.

I’m not a pumpkin spice girl, and not a fan of apples, either, except in pie, of course! I like cocoa, though, and that’s my fall treat. I have A LOT of sweaters, and way more warm clothes than shorts and t-shirts. Getting them all out is like greeting old friends.

The list is long. Goodness abounds in all the seasons, and I’m here for all of it.

I have learned over the years to find happiness in what is. Wishing my life away waiting for what I want, and not what is, is a waste of time, and now that I have less of it ahead, I’m more mindful of how I spend it.

I can’t change the circumstances of my life, especially the weather, but I can change my thinking about it, my focus. There is good to be found in most everything, but sometimes I have to look hard for it. If I make the effort, though, I always find it.

That doesn’t mean that I won’t be sad about summer’s end, or that I won’t curse the wind and rain at least once this fall. I’m not perfect.

Just human. I’m better than I used to be, though. More skillful, I like to think. Always more to learn, though, and changes to come in the years ahead that will challenge me, I know.

That’s life, and I’m grateful for every minute of it.

💕

I’ve had a pretty easy life, compared to the horror that some people experience in childhood or adulthood. Really easy, actually. I was born white and free, and was raised in a middle-class family with two parents in a small town in America. I had the added benefit of a loving grandmother who lived nearby.

A good start. I’m retired now, because I had the good fortune to work all of my life, contributing to Social Security, and to spend the last 1/2 of my working life at an agency that provided me the opportunity to end up with additional retirement income.

I’m healthy. I have good friends. I have plenty to eat. I own a house and a car. I still have one living family member, as you know–my mother. Most of the time that’s a blessing. Not all the time, frankly, but most things in this life are that way, aren’t they? Not all good, not all bad.

If I outlive her, I will be alone. No other family. I was an only child, and all of my uncles and aunts have passed. I have cousins, but we don’t keep in touch, and our lives and our beliefs are very different. Fortunately, although I don’t have a lot of friends, the ones I have are good people who are good to me.

I have been very fortunate and I don’t take any of it for granted.

The one thing I ever really wanted, however, has eluded me–living my life as an author. I wanted to write books that changed people’s way of thinking, in the way books had changed my thinking growing up. I worked hard at making that dream come true for a large part of my life, but it was not to be. I’ve never been published anywhere other than the local newspaper. I had to accept that I was not the great writer that I imagined I was, and that the dream was not going to come true.

That acceptance happened about 20 years ago, and now I don’t consider it a failure. It is just what happened.

When I was young, I thought my life would be a lot different than it has turned out to be. I had that big dream, and it never occurred to me that it wouldn’t come true if I worked hard at it. That’s a very American thing, isn’t it? Something we really believe–you can do anything you set your mind to, if you work hard enough. Horatio Alger and all that. I bought into it heart and soul.

It certainly is true for some people. It has not been so for me. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, writing did not turn out to be my path to greatness in this life.

However, even though I may not be an author that anyone has ever heard of, I am still, and have always been, a writer. I’ve been writing since I was a little girl, and blogging for a long time. It’s just a part of me and something I enjoy. Blogging, especially, has allowed me to write with the possibility of having readers. It’s been a good thing for me. I write other things, too–stories and poems, mostly. Sometimes essays. Just for me. Because writing is simply what I do, who I am.

With, or without readers.

I have learned to focus on and write for the integrity of the words on the page, and not for views or likes or anything else. I don’t have any control over any of those things, and it is not mine to worry about. Sometimes, even after all this time, though, I still hope for a post that gets thousands of readers, rather than the 15 or so views that I average each day–most of which are AI bots. Whatever. I’m human. There is always hope, after all. 😉

Expectations are the enemy, though, and I know that. I have only failed as a writer if I expect more than I receive in exchange for my words. That’s true of everything in this life, really. The world doesn’t care about our expectations; only our commitment, and our efforts. My role is to put words on paper or online. That’s it. The rest of it is not my concern. No one ever promised a rose garden, right? Especially if you didn’t make the effort to plant one. You just do the thing you feel called to do, and whatever happens as a result of that, happens. Period.

I made the effort, and the “roses” still have not grown. Despite the American Dream, and my rock solid belief in it and in myself. You can plant the seeds, water them, fertilize them, pull the weeds, and still end up with no flowers. Ask any gardener. The amount of work you put into anything does not in any way guarantee the outcome you want. That’s just the reality of human life on this planet. Doesn’t mean that effort was wasted, especially if you enjoyed it and learned from the process.

It’s the focus on the result that is the failure. No honest effort toward anything is ever wasted.

So I keep writing. Lately I’ve been thinking about submitting some pieces for publication again, which I have not done in at least 25 years. There is a chance they would be accepted and published and have readers, but there is a much bigger chance they will be rejected. If I don’t try, though, there is no chance of anything.

I don’t believe in destiny or fate, a god, Walt Disney, or angels. I don’t pray, practice affirmations, have faith in manifestation, or wish on stars anymore. Of course, your mileage may vary. This is just my take on it. I’ve tried it all, believe me. I think anything and everything is possible, but unreliable, at best.

I trust myself–my heart, my brain, my soul–music, words, and the natural world around me. That’s it.

I think relying on “outside” intervention of any kind is setting myself up for disappointment. Expectation again. I’m constantly surprised by the things that happen in my life, and those that don’t, and if I’ve learned nothing else in my time here, it’s that I don’t have any clue what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour, day, or year. I don’t have a crystal ball. Neither does anyone else. I think believing that you are smarter than time, nature and life, is just ridiculous.

I don’t know what’s best for me. Neither does anyone else. I would never have imagined that the most important thing I would do in my life is care for a woman I was totally at odds with for most of it.

I often feel more like I have survived my life, than lived it. I had a plan, and almost none of that plan has worked out in the way I envisioned. I have just moved from one living situation to another, one job to another, etc. The only constants have been friends, bicycling, writing, music, and my family. It has all worked out just fine. I have learned more from the “failures” than the wins, for sure. I have been changed in the ways I needed to change, and helped to become a better person.

I’m not done with any of it yet, and I’m grateful for that.

I have talents that the world knows nothing about, and weaknesses that no one knows about, either. We all do. I’m the only one who knows myself fully. That’s true for each of us. I like myself, just as I am. Until the very end, I’ll just be over here writing, and enjoying my life as much as I can before it’s time to move on to whatever is next.

The only thing I know about anything for sure, is that it’s all good.

✌️

I have chosen the circumstances of my life. I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m not perfect, but I’m not a horrible person, and I do the best I can. I used to believe that everyone did, and for the most part, I think that’s true still. Our current president in this country, and his staff have convinced me, however, that it’s not true of everyone. Some people are horrible just because they can be, and that’s sad, but it doesn’t really have anything to do with me.

I’m only ultimately responsible for myself. I’m also responsible for 2 cats, because I have forced them to live with me and have denied them the opportunity to fend for themselves in the world. My guess is that they’re okay with that – they’re both pretty fond of treats and a cushy place to sleep.

I’m responsible for my mother’s care now, and have been for a while.

I’m not responsible for the kind of person she is or the things she does or the decisions she has made or the ones she makes now. I was never responsible, nor am I now, for her happiness. It took me a long time, and a lot of therapy to understand that. I’m not convinced that she understands that, but I do, and so we’re okay.

She’s not the same person she was when I was growing up, and for the most part we get along pretty well now. She has lived a lot longer than I ever dreamed she would when I decided to fill this role 14 years ago, but life is always surprising and that’s a good thing. If I had known I was in for this long haul, I probably wouldn’t have consented to take it on, and that would have been a mistake. I mostly don’t pay much attention now when she tells me what she thinks I should do, but every once and a while I’m 6 years old again and want to make everything okay for her so that I can be okay.

Wednesday was that kind of a day. She talked me into doing something that turned out to be a very bad decision, and I was lucky to return to my 64 year old self in time to un-make it.

On Wednesday, I made an appointment for Clare, one of my cats, to be euthanized today at noon.

She’s been having some trouble lately, behaving unlike the sweet little girl we have known, and it was upsetting mom. She had told me several times in the last couple of months that she thought Clare was miserable and that I should have her “put to sleep,” (stupid euphemism for killing an animal, which I’ve never liked) and I very clearly told her every time that her behavior was admittedly annoying, but that in no way is she miserable, and that I had no intention of killing her for being annoying. She is not ill, and for the most part she is just fine, though I will admit, her personality has changed and she is no longer the cat I’ve known for 15 years all the time anymore, but different is not “bad.” She is not miserable. She is not suffering. There is no reason to even be considering euthanasia at this time.

Wednesday when I got home, however, mom was miserable. She was very upset about Clare that morning, and I was overwhelmed with other things that are going on, and I just wanted life to be easier. In that moment, I called the mobile vet and made the appointment.

Yesterday, I came to my senses and changed the appointment into a check-up to see if there’s something we can do to support Clare as she ages. I had a long talk with mom about dealing with the behavior that she finds so objectionable, and made it clear that it was her problem, not mine, or Clare’s, to solve. She agreed. I made the argument that she is annoying, too, but that I’m not considering having her killed. We laughed, and all was well in our world again.

She won’t remember our talk, and we’ll have to have the conversation over and over for the rest of Clare’s (or mom’s) life, but my priorities are clear to me again, and this has served as a good reminder of how easily mom can manipulate me, no matter how old I am or how many years of therapy I had. I’m disappointed that I fell into that old conditioned response to a very familiar scenario (Something’s wrong with mom! Oh no! What can I do to fix it/make her happy/make her love me?), but I forgive myself.

All of my selves, including the 6 year old and the 64 year old and all the other ages in between.

So tomorrow we’ll meet the mobile vet (wonderfully convenient) and talk about ways we can help my sweet little girl be more comfortable and happy, and then we will go on with our lives.

All of us. All of our complicated, wonderful lives.

🐈‍⬛

Sunday I left for what I imagined would be a wonderful long bike ride on a sunny and hot northern Michigan afternoon. Two miles in, I rode through a pothole (was not looking at the road) and just like that, the ride was over. Both tires were blown. I changed the tube in the rear and thought I was good to go on, and then I realized the front was a goner, too. I only carry one spare tube, and it was too hot, and by the time I had changed the rear tube, too late, to find the puncture and patch the front tube.

Rats. I was really looking forward to that ride! I admitted defeat and started walking home. So a great ride on a really nice day turned into a pleasant walk on a really nice day. As I was walking I was thinking about my post last week. Did I say something silly like I thought adversity was a good thing? LOL! Yeah, I did, and it’s also Mercury Retrograde (iykyk), so I guess I had to put my theory to the test that day.

I did, and it stood up. I didn’t rail at the universe. I didn’t feel cursed or that it was unfair, nor did I run through any of my other usual “poor little ‘ol me” mental scripts. I simply walked home, in the sunshine, and felt lucky that I was only 2 miles out and not 10 miles out. I also gently reminded myself that it’s important to watch where I’m going. 🤪

Always.

It was not the first time I’d had a flat, and actually, not even the first time I’d had to deal with both tires being punctured. It’s not a common occurrence, thankfully, but it’s always a possibility when traveling along on something as vulnerable as 2 slim pieces of rubber. Cycling is like everything else in life – mostly it’s a lot of fun and very satisfying, and sometimes your ride is cancelled by a flat tire (or two), and you have to deal with something you hadn’t planned on.

I changed the tube in the front on Monday, so all set to go next time. There were lawns to mow, groceries to get, laundry to do, and, interestingly enough, (and sad), wildfires in Canada blowing smoke at us this week, though, so no ride until tomorrow, but that’s okay, too. All that stuff is important. It’s all a part of my life – the chores and the fun – and that is as it should be.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, but the reverse is also true: All play and no work makes Jack insufferable. 😉

Mostly I feel lucky that I’m still able to do all that needs to be done without help, and to be able to ride my bike as I have for the last 35 or so years, without modification. Mercury Retrograde will be over next week, and the smoke will clear, and we will be left with our beautiful Michigan summer, that has turned out to be just the kind of summer I love. I’m so glad the earlier forecasts were wrong. It took a while to get started, but it’s here now, and I’m loving every minute of it.

Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re enjoying every minute, too.

❤️

Summertime and the livin’ is easy. The weather has been beautiful in my little corner of the world the last few days, and I’ve been riding and hanging out in my backyard, enjoying every minute of it. The flowerbeds are full of color, and the bunnies and the birds are very busy. It’s all wonderful, and it has restored me.

In the depths of winter I think about moving somewhere else, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Now that I’m older and don’t have to go anywhere if I don’t want to most of the time, I actually like the austerity and interiority of winter, and feel that Spring and then Summer are worth 6 months of cold and snow. Autumn has its charms, too. I value each season and the whole turning wheel of the year.

Nietzsche said “Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” That’s become a popular part of our American lexicon, but that’s not really the way I want to think about it. Life is not a contest to see who can suffer the most and survive. It’s not a game show. I have a magnet on my fridge that says, “Dear Whatever Doesn’t Kill Me, I’m strong enough now. Thanks.” LOL! Sometimes I definitely feel that way. I just want everything to go well all of the time.

That’s not how it works, though, and it has taken me a long time to get that through my head. I was sure for most of my young life that I was doing something wrong; that if I could just learn how to do everything perfectly, I would have a beautiful life.

Yeah, no. Not so much.

The Buddhists say, “No lotus without mud.” I would say, no flowers without rain. I don’t think lotuses would grow here, though we do have lovely water lilies on the ponds and some of the inland lakes. So for us, I guess, it’s no water lilies without mud.🪷

I have felt for a long time that I appreciate and enjoy the joyous times more because of the periods of depression I’ve experienced for most of my life. It is the up and down, back and forth nature of the world and this human life that tempers us and helps us grow at the same time. Just as too much sun will kill the flowers, experiencing only happiness and ease would turn us into something less than desirable, too.

Adversity teaches us to call on our creativity to solve problems, and builds resilience, or what Nietzsche called strength, I guess. If everything is just as you want it to be all of the time, how do you cope when something bad happens in your life? Because it will. For sure. Difficult times also build compassion and connection to others experiencing challenges.

In other words, just like rain helps the flowers grow and produce seeds for the next summer, adversity helps us grow and develop skills and resilience to help us throughout our lives.

Granted, it’s still hard to get through those difficult times, and all I ever want is to get past the challenge and back to the good stuff again. That’s where the wisdom of age comes in. I know that everything passes. The sunshine, the rain, the good and the bad. I’ve experienced it many times. Just when I think nothing will change, it does. For better or worse. Change is the very nature of this planet and human life, also.

For now, the sun is shining and it’s warm and colorful, and my life has been going smoothly. That will change at some point, of course. I know that, but I try not to dwell on it. I try to be as present in every moment as I can be; to soak in the sun and the warmth, go for long sweaty bike rides, take it all in.

Thinking of times like this sustains me in the difficult times, and knowing that the good times will always come again, after winter, after the dark times, makes all the difference.

😎

Photo by Kristel Hayes on Unsplash

Write it in your heart that every day is the best day of the year. Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea, breathe the wild air. Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hot and humid and stormy this week. Not unheard of here, especially around the 4th of July, but not that usual, either. We’ve gone from 60s to upper 80s with wicked humidity in the space of a few days, bringing thunderstorms daily this week with so much rain that there is widespread flooding. Crazy. This is northern Michigan, after all, not Florida. Forecast says back to “normal” by Friday, so we’ll see what that means.

I’m pleased to say the depression has lifted and I’m feeling like myself again. I almost never know specifically what starts it, and I’m never sure what ends it, but I’m grateful to have made it through again. I’m ready to enjoy summer, now that the weather seems more seasonal, or at least it will, starting on Friday. I had a lovely bike ride on Monday, and then it got too hot. I have high hopes for the next couple of weeks. This is my favorite time of year.

I came across the quote by Emerson above in my travels through the internet this week, and it really spoke to me. “Old nonsense,” indeed. I laughed out loud when I read it. I certainly have plenty of old nonsense rattling around in my head. The whole thing really resonated:. Truer words never spoken. Get over yourself and get on with it.

Amen, brother!

What a miracle it is to be alive on this beautiful planet, and to be so lucky as to have enough food, a cozy house, and people and pets to love. What joy is found in watching the flowers bloom in the yard, and to see the bunnies munching on the clover. A delicious dinner with a life-long friend. Music, books, the internet, which connects me to friends near and far. Sleeping in. Chocolate chip scones for breakfast. And how about the World Cup? Or the Olympics a few months ago. All those young people from so many countries competing peacefully in their sport of choice, rather than fighting wars.

Small wonderful things.

All over the place. Every minute of every day. These things keep me going. Grace waking me up in the morning with a gentle nudge, purring, reminding me it’s time for a treat. The look on Clare’s face when she sees me open the canned food I’ve started giving her to help with her digestive issues. I’m sure people in Canada can hear her purring, and the sparkle in her pretty green eyes is as bright as ever again.

A belly laugh from mom in response to Ted Lasso, which we’ve just started watching cuz I got a free offer for AppleTV for a month. Bruce Springsteen or Elton John or Mozart in my earbuds while I’m reading outside. Reading, period. All the books I want to read! All I have enjoyed and all I have learned from them and enjoyed. What a thing to have hours to read now. Retirement is the best thing EVER.

So many things.

Life can be horrible. No doubt. Natural disasters disrupting homes and lives, poverty, homelessness. Mental illness, addiction. Heartbreak. Loss. It’s not easy on this planet for anyone. Easier for some than others, perhaps, in some ways, but still challenging in others. No one gets a free ride.

It all has to be measured against the joy, though. There is a lot of that, too. You know it. The things that bring me joy may not be the things that bring you joy, but most everyone has some measure of happiness somewhere, somehow.

Let go of yesterday. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Enjoy today. It’ll be gone soon enough, no matter what it brings.

Write it on your heart. Today is the best day.

Look for and enjoy all the small wonderful things all around. Look closely. Get past your old nonsense, and the news. Embrace the joys. They’re there, believe me.

All the small wonderful things, all around us, quietly offering themselves every moment of every day. What a world, and what a privilege to be here.

Write it in your heart.

The weather looks like it’s going to get better, and that is something to be celebrated! My little tourist town is filling up and traffic is a problem, and that is not anything to celebrate, as far as I’m concerned, but it is a fact of life here, and I’m probably in the minority with that attitude. Whatever. It’s not worth worrying about.

I irritated my knee doing some yard work a couple of weeks ago, and it’s not getting over it very quickly. Kind of like me in that regard. I can hold a grudge for a while, too. LOL! Less now than when I was younger, though. Few things matter enough to me to get my blood pressure up these days.

So I’m kind of limping around, and waiting for it to get over itself. It will, given time, like everything else. The Spring yard work that caused the problem is finished, and I haven’t felt like riding my bike. My knee reminds me every minute that I’m not as young as I used to be and I’m not in the good shape I was when I was younger. Not even as good as last year, unfortunately.

I’ve struggled with depression most of my life, and these last few months I’ve been struggling again. I know how to get through it, and like my knee, I know I just have to wait it out. This one has been hanging on pretty good since early February, but it too shall pass. It just is what it is, and I’ll get through it.

I have learned in 50 years of down times like these not to blow up my life, even though I may want to, by making a dramatic change that I will regret when it’s over, but it does put my regular habits on hold for a while. Like exercising, or eating properly, or keeping up with things in general. I just don’t care, and I don’t have much energy, so most of the things I do when I’m “normal,” don’t happen when I’m dealing with faulty brain chemistry.

For the most part, no one knows when these times come and go. I’m good at hiding it when I have to, though it takes a lot of energy. I’ve had a lot of practice, and I know no one wants to deal with it, so it’s really the only option. Mostly, no one keeps tabs on me now, so it’s not that hard generally to disappear for a while and wait it out. It was harder when I was working, but now I can go weeks or even months without having contact with anyone, aside from my mother, and I’m a pro at hiding it from her.

I took meds for several years and I’ve had therapy, and both of those things helped a lot. I don’t go through it as often as I did before those interventions, but it still shows up every now and again in the last few years. Too much for too long. That’s it usually. It builds up. The depression was bound to come back sooner or later and as often happens, it held off this time until a period of relative calm.

Whatever.

It comes, it goes. It’s a part of my life. Everyone has something they carry, and as weights in this life go, this one has been manageable, and I’m grateful for that. It has limited my life in several ways as the years have gone on, and I accept that. I take it as a signal that I need rest, and that’s mostly what I do.

Everyone has something. I’ve survived 50 years of depression, and I hope to survive many more, with or without it. If I were a better writer, perhaps I could have gotten rich writing books about it like Jenny Lawson, but that was not my path.

I’m just one person, trying to get along in this life bearing my burdens with grace, like everybody else. It could have been better. It could have been worse. It just is what it is, and I’m still here. Nursing my knee, taking it slow.

It’s all good.

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.