Minor Annoyances

Call me a baby if you like but in the morning, when the coffee dribbles over the kitchen counter, while I'm pouring it into a cup, I get annoyed. It irritates me when doing a thing creates another mess to clean up. Like when I pull the juice out of the fridge and the milk comes tumbling onto the floor. Here, I've already got the juice glass to wash and the juice bottle to put away but two more messes arise, clean up the milk and run to the store for more.

I am easily agitated and don't appreciate that about myself as it would be much simpler to let things roll off of my back, shrug my shoulders, do the next thing and move on. But, once one thing agitates me there are a string of them. I trip over the rug, a hair gets in my face and won't leave me alone, it feels like something is in my nostril and I want to pick it away and the internet slows down to a crawl and messes with my momentum. I have intentions of getting things done but they don't go smoothly and all hell breaks loose inside of my brain. Don't dare call me when this happens because then I don't want to talk to you.

My son called this morning, just as the internet quit working and all I could think was, let me off of the phone so that I can fix this. And he is just calling to say hi and I love you. My neurotransmitters are not firing correctly. I'm not mean but do get irritated inside of myself and it comes out as being short and mean. There are always hormones to blame - the doctor thought anti-depressants would calm them down instead of more HRT. He is worried about breast cancer. I am worried about not being a nice person. And then, when the hormone patch is drying up, I have to run to the bathroom every thirty seconds, or so it seems, and that interrupts my life. Much more so than to put on a new patch, but I'm too busy. Where did my volume of insanity come from?

I've lived alone for way too long and have forgotten how to stop and listen to someone else. STOP what I am doing and take time. I want others to do that for me so why is it so hard? There is no one for me to cook for, clean up after, discuss things with, to argue with or to help me. I'm a scrapper, always worried about getting it all done. Always over whelmed by the never ending to do list. I become single-minded but don't want to be that way.

Perhaps it is the smell of spring in the midst of this unusual Idaho winter that is causing me to have feelings of longing. I keep thinking that a shoulder to rub, a cheek to nuzzle, a warm body to wrap around, would be nice. Over whelming feelings of loneliness prevail, even in the midst of my passions. I desire love and passion of the heart.

I also desire to hug my oldest son and to wrap my arms around my granddaughters and to breath deeply of their fresh and youthful skin. I saw him, my son, the other day. He was getting a hair cut at the place right next to my pharmacy. In two years time this is the first incidence of "running into him." I stood outside and stared at him, not recognizing him at first. My eyes were glued to his expressions and his body movements, the way he interacted with the stylist. I could have stood there for a long time but didn't. I lingered in the pharmacy and then in the coffee shop on the other side of the salon, hoping to exit at just the right moment but knew that it would be pushing too hard to make our first encounter happen. I headed towards my own truck and noticed a glove under his. I stepped over and picked up the soft, flimsy fabric and gently placed it on his rearview mirror before walking off. And then I realized that the glove was my opening to telling him hello. Except that I was so nervous and scared that he'd brush me off that I was gruff and closed, not very friendly. I regret not smiling more and not saying more. I sent him a text and told him how wonderful it was to see him, how well he looked and how I wanted to hug him but was nervous. He didn't respond, he never does. But, yet, he was nice. Said hi with a friendly look. Why can't I do things right when it comes to him? I try too hard.

I love this photo of the eagle because it says, I give up. I surrender. Wave my arms in the air, above my head and let the world take its course. Find peace in my heart, contentment in my soul and let the small things roll off of my back. So what if the squirrel is stealing all of the Jay's peanuts, and the coffee dribbles on the counter and the internet slows to a crawl, it is all just a moment in time before it passes to the next. My sons and grandchildren are important, as is my heart and how I fill the dashes of my life. A reminder to slow down and enjoy what is in front of me and let the rest come when it will.

Freedom

I stare into my pictures and too often wish that I was there instead of here. Up there on that buckskin's back, feeling bold muscles beneath my thighs, my hair free behind me and the wind whipping tears from my eyes.

I never intended to be where I am now but can't tell you where I intended to be. The years of my life whiz through my fragmented memory like a horror movie filled with moments of joy and wonder. The day my son David was born, when I raced a horse on the beach of the Pacific Ocean, when I first looked at a bird and saw its freedom, when I wrote a story and liked it, when I picked up a camera and tried to chase a hummingbird around, and when my youngest, Brandon, decided to change his life around, so many small pieces that spelled hope. Those moments sporadic but there, all pulling at my insides, trying to tug at my essence and bring it to the core of my awareness.

The happiness was the antithesis of everything my father told me that I could have and so I pushed it away, settling for the misery he bottled my childhood into. I could have broken that bottle at any time, it was glass after all, but no one told me that it was okay.

When I made the decision to close my original blog and move my words away from the prying eyes of people who are so unhappy with their lives that they have to pick apart mine and other's, the freedom of my heart soared. It took so many years for me to realize that I could move away from my abusers and surround myself with nature and caring people, but that is my new direction. At the moment I'm not trying to please anyone other than myself. I'm not trying to be anyone else and am not unhappy with who I am. Free of the chains that have shackled me since early childhood and that I attached to boulders in later years, thinking that there was nothing better.

I am the product of my experiences but they are not who I am. I have not gotten over the abusive episodes but finally am through them and onto better things.

For the umpteenth time since returning to Idaho, I went searching for moose to shoot (photograph) and couldn't find them. Instead this buckskin pushed its way into my dreams and reminded me of some of the precious moments of the past and suddenly I realized that there were more to come.

Writing for myself

For the past 4.5 years I've written a blog, which was ended just today, under this same name on a site called Blogstream. I am not a socially adept person and so many of my writings have been about trying to understand the human race and to learn who I am. More than my heart struggles, I am adventurous and love to share my discoveries and joys through writing and photography. I yearn to tell the truth and am constantly trying to learn more eloquent ways to share it. More and more I am trying to bring faith and spirituality into the way that I approach and assimilate my surroundings. This blog is a continuation of my journey. A link to my old blog can be found on this page.

So, here it goes.

Yesterday, when I woke up there was no white noise filling my ears. The heat was off and they air outside was warm. Another gift during an unusually mild winter in North Idaho.

When I looked outside and saw the sun peeking into my morning and the cloudless sky, I nearly jumped for joy but my sore body stopped me short. Instead of putting fashion jeans on, the kind that show my weight loss, I pulled on long underwear and baggy jeans, some insulated tops and a sweatshirt. My muddy wet boots over insulated socks and drug out a couple of jackets, one heavy and one light. Another day to spend with the few eagles! A true gift.

I had no idea of how blue the sky would get or how much the eagles would glisten in the sunlight. The entire world looked better - brighter - and so much more fun to photograph. People, dogs, plants, everything was bright with newness. Nor did I anticipate taking off the heavy jacket, or the light jacket and finally the sweatshirt, or of getting the red glow of sun upon my cheeks. It was a holiday and people were out enjoying our spring day in mid winter. That is how it is here in North Idaho, the lights come on and people are outside for the duration. There is more health and fitness and more appreciation for nature than in any other place that I've lived.

I photographed eagles, dogs, people and the landscape. I sat on the rocks next to the lake and soaked in the sun. I smiled on the relaxed faces of people who passed by. And I about busted a little brat's butt when his rock whizzed close by my head before it landed in the lake. I heard his dad yelling so that was good enough.

Because of other obligations, I had to go in too soon and therefore pouted like a baby. Being grown up and responsible can be a real pain, despite its rewards.

In the morning someone spoke about how we are not powerless over anything, except substance addiction - adding that we aren't powerless over not having a job and many other challenges that come our way. I bristled and let her words eat my lunch. I am powerless over what she says and does because believe me, if it were in my power to do so, I would shut her big mouth. I mulled this over, too much, and it interfered with some of my joy. To heavy to put on my heart, I needed to let it go. By four or so, I was too tired to continue the day. That worries me some because I've never been one to get tired in the afternoon. This too shall pass.

I wonder, is there such a thing as a perfect day? A day when no one upsets us, we don't upset anyone, the weather is perfect, our health is perfect and there is only joy in our hearts? This makes me laugh for no, there is no such thing as perfection, only progress towards it. Last night my sleep was filled with more peace than anxiety and that makes for a near perfect day.