There is nothing like the beauty of a good storm. I was actually hoping for one today. I watched in anticipation as the clouds began to over take the sky. The wind started moving the trees, first a graceful ballet then an elaborate salsa. But as soon as it began it was gone. A few random claps of thunder, a brief flash and it was gone. Such is the course of my life these days.
In my mind I have all the makings of a good storm. Anger and confusion have been blending with depression. The churning of my daily emotions is capped by a lack of willpower. My self is delaying me much like the lid on a pressure cooker. I explode in a furious binge of sugar and carbs, my drugs of choice. I eat and eat in hopes of silencing my self doubt. But nothing seems to fix my problems. It’s like the storm today. A lot of build up but no satisfaction.
I’m doing my best to learn to love new technology but my old age is showing. I’m 40 and I remember all too well the birth of the Internet. I was in college in 1993 when someone introduced me to ISCA. The Iowa state Computer Association. It was my ticket to a new world. I was able just using words to meet strangers all over the world. It was nothing like Facebook. I could talk and flirt with strangers!!!!
And now on this IPad I can’t even type. I hate this. I feel like I’m struggling for each and every word. I miss my keys! The click and the give of each key as it snapped so witty under my God like fingers. And the numbers and symbols aren’t in the same places and I wonder if this is how my grandparents felt when they were given new things?
I remember how my Pepaw loved technology. Anything new he wanted to have. He bought a microwave when the average cost of a microwave was $275. He just had to have one! At first it was just good for melting butter and heating up honey buns but soon the world caught up to the microwave. I could have bought a microwave for $30 last Christmas. It’s crazy.
Meanwhile I can’t stand this new app culture we live in. I really have no clue how to read Twitter. It’s so damn confusing. And snapchat? What is that like I need more temporary pictures of crap. Viral indeed. I would be able to type three times as fast if I didn’t have some moron suggesting words for me. Do I sound like a grumpy old man? Well good people should hear the anger in my voice! How is Snap Chat fun? Really.
Autocorrect pisses me off! You know what we did for autocorrect in the 90’s? You had your smart friend sign up for computer time with you in the computer lab and made said smartfriend sit next to you and correct your mistakes as you made them. Too many mistakes, you got grateful that you had such a smart friend or you punched them in the face. I can’t count the number of fist fights that occurred in the computer lab in the 90’s.
Meanwhile I have a cramp in my fingers cause I have to type on the onscreen keyboard on my lap otherwise I can’t see the keys, but thank God for bifocals. Yes, I’m 40 and I wear bifocals! I could do without but then the keyboard would be at arms length and I wouldn’t be able to reach it to type. I did not sign up for this!
And the constant noise in my knees. I know that’s not technology related but it sounds like someone opening an ice tray every time I try to stand up. What’s up with that? It’s like Rice Krispies on steroids. And the old lady hormones? I’m going to just kick young women when they complain about PMS.
So today I’m feeling old #oldagesucks
My heart’s not ready to let you go. If it were I’d tell you so.
I’d pack your things and tell you no, but my hearts not ready to let you go.
They are going to take you away from me. If only they knew , if only they could see.
I need you right here to take care of me but they are going to take you away from me.
My hearts not ready can’t you see? My heart won’t let your memory be.
My hearts not ready but it’s a choice I don’t make.
My hearts not ready and it’s more than I can take.
I love watching the birds. Currently on my porch I have 3 suet feeders, 2 loose bird seed feeders and one woodpecker treat bar. There is something about watching them fly stealithily up to the feeder and eat the seed. But this summer so far I only have five or six birds. And they are tiny nuthatches that eat the larger seed.
Last year I got into bird feeding while Paul was in the mental hospital. The birds became a connection to the world that I desperately needed. When I was a little girl my mom and I had a special connection with birds. There was a particular bird song that would happen at our house. It was our special bird and we listened to it in the mornings. Then our world fell apart. My mom found out she was pregnant and it was a high risk pregnancy. Then our house foreclosed. We were forced to move to a much smaller rent house. What gave us comfort in those hard times was hearing our bird song. We moved across town and sure enough we heard the same song! I know now it’s a cardinal song and as I’ve grown older I’ve drawn some comfort from hearing that distinctive song in the early mornings. It’s as if my mom were still talking to me. Its a reminder that no matter how bad things seem there is still something good in this world.
So far only one Cardinal is eating at my feeders. Maybe one is all I need.
My soulmate my love
You are going to leave me alone.
I’m going to wait for you until there is no more.
Today , tomorrow, a million years from now I will be there hungering and yearning for you.
Will you be here for me? Will time heal or hurt?
Don’t change me.
I need glasses to read. I didn’t always need glasses. When I was 21 I was diagnosed with a congenital birth defect in my right eye. I had always had spotty vision out of that eye but no eye doctor would believe me. When I was in third grade my parents took me to an eye doctor and I explained that sometimes the letters looked weird but I knew what they were. For example capital A’s looked like upside down V’s. I knew they were A’s but still I had a hole in my vision. He accused me of just wanting glasses. My parents were embarrassed. But at 21 a doctor saw the hole in my eye and validated my experiences with vision.
But now I have tunnel vision. I can only see the tragedy in my current situation. It makes me focus on the sad, lonely times I am going to experience and blocks any goodness. I wish it weren’t this way but it is. I can only see what I don’t want to see.
I worry about the future. My mind and my heart seem to be telling me that I can make it. But I just seem to want to focus in on my problems and see only my deficits. Will I have enough money? Will I be able to fill the lonely hours alone? What happens to me when I can’t carry on? I need to look away. Its like a train wreck and my vision won’t allow me to focus on anything else.
I have been thinking about this a lot. I know I can survive. I just don’t feel like it sometimes. My life has been in chaos mode for a while now and I feel like I am just on the edge of survival. But I do know one of the keys to my survival is to just keep swimming. It may seem juvenile to take my life advice from a blue fish in an old movie, but here I am doing it.
I think about the cats when I think of survival. The cats, all five of them, belong to the neighborhood. My house is just their dining room table. They at one time depended on the goodness of my neighbor across the street. She was a nice lady who was tragically killed in a car wreck last summer. Her two children survived the accident. Survival to them is much different. They probably feel a great deal of grief having survived and their mother losing her life on that highway. Survival meant coming home to the father they were trying to get away from and depending upon grandparents to survive. I feel so humbled when I worry about my own survival compared to theirs. I’m going to be lonely for sure, but the people I love are still alive, just being housed somewhere away from me.
The cats survive because they don’t care where they sleep or stay. They truly only see me when it comes to food and I oblige. Their survival depends on me I suppose. And I depend upon them.
I will survive. I know this its just going to take time and patience. I want this chapter in my life to be over already but I have to live through it. And I know I can. I just wish this grief and loneliness would erase itself.
Everything contained on this minute
Is nothing more than the universe
In a drop of rain.
Just a small planet in this galaxy
In a drop of rain.
All of yesterday and tomorrow
In a drop of rain
On a blade of grass
Why do I write? I write because I am lonely. I wasn’t always lonely it comes in waves. The last four years I haven’t been lonely, but I know I will be lonely. My companion is going away for a while. Say that in a hushed tone. He’s being forced to leave. Its not by my choice. So I know that the next five to twenty years will be lonely. Who knows what is in store for me?
But I know I have myself to keep company and writing is one way to do that. Its comforting to get thoughts on paper and screen and to feel them exiting my body. Some people turn to alcohol and drugs to get that sensation but I don’t do either. I just try swimming one stroke at a time until my feet can reach the shore. I tell myself that is how I am going to get over this tragedy, one step at a time, one moment at a time. But now I am not that sure.
But I have this outlet, I have my words. I can write about my journey. I can write about the things I love. I love my bird feeders. Currently I have a woodpecker treat bar, 2 suet cakes and 2 seed feeders. I love watching the birds on my porch as I sit in the living room. There is something about those innocent creatures finding all that they need in the world. They never worry about money. They never worry about being alone. Somehow they scrape by and manage. I will too.