The faces of Healing

Moments in time I look in the mirror this morning and spot a red mark on my face where my cpap mask was worn too tight last night.  I see tired eyes, trying to make sense of what the last week was all about. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and brush my hair.  There. I feel a little more like what my normal routine would look like.  Except it is not all that normal right now following surgery one week ago.  I must admit, the last month was pretty terrifying. When I learned that a part of my stomach was in my chest and I needed surgical intervention, I honestly went into the woe is me phase.  I read all I could on the topic of paraesophageal hiatal hernias. I read about how rare it is to have one and how it could be fatal if it became strangulated.  I had to continue my employment, almost passed out in horrendous traffic on the way home one evening.  But the whole time this was happening I tried to remain as hopeful as possible, asking my friends for support, praying for the best possible outcome.  It was all so surreal.  This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.  I eat healthy, exercise, try to reduce stress! What was missing?  As an avid reader, I have studied the topic of being isolated from loved ones and the outcomes of that. Having moved away from my roots almost eight years ago, I am painfully aware of the toll it has taken on me. Having moved away from belonging to a place of worship has also been very isolating.  I have always been more like my mother, with a strong need for social inclusion. The focus of my life has been my work, which I do enjoy. But something more is needed post surgery, post rest and healing.  Throwing it up to the universe has been most beneficial.  Giving it to clusters of angels has given me peace and rest. Where will this journey take me? I am watching the places where I trip and stumble.  I am going to be patient with the stumbling a along the way.

The cat is purring on my cheek; Or I prefer not to get out of bed when it’s 14 degrees outside

It is really Monday, but it feels like Ice Age Tuesday.  The warmest greeting of this frigid day is my crazy feline who, in spite of all his crazy antics, is able to calm me with his enormous purr.  He latches on to my neck with his long arms and cuddles until the warmth turns to almost suffocation and I must move him.  Ridlee is a mystery to me.  I have always had cats, some inside and outside.  They best describe my own personality, a trifle fickle, a lot solitary, and demand comfort.  He is mean at times, contrary with my dogs, bold with the birds outside the window.  He escapes to the garage or slips out the door more than I care to mention.  He attacks my friends, plotting to destroy my village building efforts of inviting people over to spend time.  But mostly he creates a feeling of cozy in my little world where we try to escape the problems of the world.  He sleeps soundly, oddly, at the end of the arm of a piece of furniture.  He sometimes watches t.v., noticing a fleeting movement on the screen.  And he is one handsome guy, groomed the way only a stellar feline can, except for when he escapes into the garage and his white fur takes longer to clean.  He is my nemesis, my challenge, my comfort, “purrfect” on days like today when I am thankful he is self contained and doesn’t need walked or taking outside to potty. My feline. My friend. Purr away…it is perfect when I need it.  

 

Who Saves Whom or The Case for Rescuing Your Best Friend

We sometimes draw the conclusion that the world is just too large.  The neighbors far too distant.  Our village is shrinking.  Where is everyone?  That is sometimes how a weekend feels to this hard working social worker.  It can be a struggle to even want to make connections because we tend to get all talked out, desperate for silence and a time to reflect on our own “stuff”.  Sometimes it is just so easy to fill the time with so much craziness that we have zero time for the silence and feel the aloneness.  But when we sit with the time to feel it and lean into it, some how those days and hours feel somewhat sacred.  One is never alone with a dog.  Not really.  My two rescued cocker spaniels fill my lonely hours with their warmth, comfort and ability to create a more active day when pajamas are the norm. They need, but also give more than I ask. I have said it over and over again. They are my reason to come home every day. They help me say the words that I cannot otherwise utter.  They embrace my silence and calm my fears.  I know in my heart of hearts that they rescued me.  Don’t purchase your fur kid! Adopt!  

 

Moments in time

My best writing happens when I clear my mind and set my intention.  While trying to keep my head above water I continue to make mistakes.  Booboos. Those “I shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have done that”.  I have learned that it doesn’t make any sense to beat myself up over those “whoops” times.  It is best to live and learn and move along.  No tears, weeping and upside down smiles! It is often those times that I learn the most, because at times it takes forever to recoup the loss.  But life is full of those times that we need to just trust the universe. This is that time!