Needing Air

Lately I've been feeling buried.  Life is pressing in from all sides, and this box I find myself in, is getting smaller and smaller.  I sit on the couch and look outside but can't find the energy or strength to break out.  Perhaps I'll lock myself in the bathroom, turn on the shower, and have a good cry.  When was the last time I had a good, hard cry?  2005 when my dad passed away?  This is not how I want to feel.  I know what I need, but it so easy to stay mired.

I'm trying to set aside a few times a day to focus on intentional thoughts and not allow this default setting to control my day.  Taking a few moments to breathe deeply and focus my mind.  Pushing hope to the front to overshadow despair.  In a more physically practical way, I am trying to force myself outside because I KNOW the air will start to wake me.  It always does.  It's taking the first step.

Depression isn't something I've ever had to deal with much.  After my mom's death, my dad's long recovery period, my dh losing his job and his depression, I had a rather long period of on/off depression.  Looking back, I recognize it clearly.  At the time, I was blind to it.  Having a good mental picture of myself at that time can serve as a warning beacon.  The warning lights are flashing.  I'm thankful I can see that.

Now to do something about it.

Clear Skies....

The inversion has lifted, and we have clear blue skies.  I went outside barefoot, ignoring the cold, looked up at the sky and breathed.  Glorious.  I just wish my mind would clear, and I could breathe freely in my mind.

I will go along for some months, shutting my mind to the things I don't want to hear, and then something will happen that forces me to pull my head out of the sand.  Bishops exorcising the demons out of gays, every week another gay being fired by a Catholic institution while listening to our local Catholic radio station supporting extremely right wing politicians who don't want to extend unemployment benefits and praising Ugandan policy on gays.  For a short time I'm able to focus on the beautiful spirituality, the Mass, on the Gospel message, on Jesus, on all humans at the table, and then doctrine squeezes it out.  I feel I can't breathe deeply.  Peace is replaced with anxiety, frustration, discord.  It always happens.  Then, in an effort to survive, I move away, distance myself.  That's when I wonder if the only way I can save any spirituality is to walk away.

And that breaks my heart.

I look for spring when I can disappear in the orchard, dig in the garden, smell the earth.  Then I'll find my peace again and be able to breathe inward, deeply.  I always find myself looking to make peace with the church when winter comes, followed by feeling suffocated and in turmoil, and then looking for spring when I can find my peace and breath and spirituality outside.  It's a cycle that repeats itself annually.  

Blue skies give me hope.

Thunder Storms and Safe Places

Last night as the lightning blazed against the dark sky, BG and I went outside to sit on the front step to feel and smell the storm.  We kept our eyes on the foothills so we wouldn't miss the beautiful light show.  Too soon the wind picked up, blowing leaves in my glass of wine, and then big drops began to fall so we headed inside.  (Somehow the wind caught the screen door wrenching it out of my hand against the house and twisting the frame.  Another honey-do for the dh.)  We watched for a few more minutes, but it was a short-lived storm.  We do love to watch a thunder storm.

Abra and I decided to watch Dr. Who; we have made it up to the third doctor played by John Pertwee.  While we were curled up on the couch with a bowl of buttered popcorn, I noticed the twins running between the dining room and upstairs, but as I was focusing on the doctor, I didn't pay much attention to what they were doing.  By the time I was ready for bed, Abby was throwing up and Abra was saying she thought she was too sick for school.  Such is life.

This morning while continuing the search for my missing brains (composition notebook with every thought, book, idea for school) I looked behind the dining room table.  There I found blankets, pillows, books, notebooks, pencils, pens, two containers of cereal, an old cell phone, and several owl banks.  I asked BG what they were up to, and she told me that was their safe space during storms completely stocked with all the necessities.  Ah, that's what they were so busy with last night.  I like safe places with life's necessities.  That's what my home is, and no doubt, why I rarely feel the need to leave.

Woke up today to snow and temperature in the 20s.  By 11:00 most of the snow has melted and the sky is a bright, clear blue.  My spirits have soared with the clearing sky.

I've been crocheting granny squares like crazy, using up bits of old yard.  The twins are arranging the squares into an interesting color pattern.  While working on the border, I noticed that I had used two different crochet hooks, supposedly the same size. Supposedly but not actually the same size.  Consequently, there are two different sizes of granny squares.  As I dream of making beautiful yarn creations, my granny squares don't even match up.  The twins don't care; they think it's beautiful.  Both of them have been busy making their own creations.  They aren't afraid of mistakes.  Indeed they turn their mistakes into their own unique styles.  Why can't I be like my children.

I picked up The Wisdom of Menopause by Christiane Northrup.  All because of the title.  'Wisdom'.  If there's any wisdom in this foggy brain, I want to find it.  First time I flipped through the book it fell open to the page on belly fat!  So appropriate.

On religious thought, I finished a book by Marcus Borg.  Can't recall the title right now, but it seemed a rehash of some of his other books I've read.  Along with that, I read Jesus Through Pagan Eyes by Mark Townsend.  I appreciated it.

For current reads I have Paul and Jesus by James Tabor (so far worthwhile) and I Don't Believe in Atheists by Chris Hedges (no opinion yet).  I'm finishing up the Wicked Years with Out of Oz.  If I leave too many years between books, I'm apt to forget what happened in the story.  Then I have to go back and re-read.  No wonder it takes me so long to read anymore.

And....

I'm so sick of scandal, popes retiring, cardinals resigning, the vatican imploding, conservative know-it-alls and liberal know-it-alls.  let's throw them all out along with the representatives in washington and start over.  with a new plan.  would it be any better?  could it be any worse?  i need earplugs and blinders.

Christmas Books

The Christmas Candle by Richard Paul Evans
The Clown of God by Tomie dePaola
The Christmas Box by Jo Anne Stewart Wetzel
Mary, The Mother of Jesus by Tomie dePaola
Christmas Tree Memories by Aliki
The Little Fir Tree by Margaret Wise Brown
The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree by Gloria Houston
The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski

Christmas Books

The Christmas Cobwebs by Odds Bodkin
Spirit Child A Story of the Nativity by John Bierhorstill; by Barbara Cooney :)
The Angel of Mill Street by Frances Ward Weller
Silver Packages by Cynthia Rylant
Apple Tree Christmas by Trinka Hakes Noble
Merry Christmas, Strega Nona by Tomie dePaola
The Legend of the Candy Cane by Lori Walburg
The Attic Christmas by B.G. Hennessy

More Books....

The Miracle of Saint Nicholas by Gloria Whelan
Christmas Tapestry by Patricia Polacco (an absolute favorite)
Holly Claus The Christmas Princess  by Brittney Ryan
Guess Who's coming to Santa's for Dinner? by Tomie       dePaola
Welcome Comfort by Patricia Polacco

Tonight we shall trim the tree!