Ax does not like getting his toenails trimmed.Or rather, he thinks he doesn’t like it, resists it, postpones it, and then, when he finally submits, complains that it is too hurty.The alleged hurtiness I believe is a) fictitious since exclamations of “oww” have been forthcoming before any actual physical contact is made, and b) is perhaps exacerbated by delayed nail maintenance as the longer nails begin to harden and curve down and therefore, occasionally, require, just a tad, of, well, gentle digging out.I try my best.
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I got this. I’m done-done with that little nugget of knotted up darkness I’ve allowed to hang out in the back of my brain. There’s no need for it, I see that now. I’m good. You’re good. We’re good. It’s all good.
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I used to think I needed a purpose with a capital P, like curing cancer, achieving world peace on a political level, ending climate change.Now, those kinds of goals still seem valuable but I’m prioritizing my own joy even ahead of the noblest external goals.I’ve seen what happens when I don’t:I become restless, irritable, discontent, stressed out, unlovable.I wonder why I’m so miserable and why those around me are so miserable with me when all I want to be is Good Good Good.
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Every now and then someone comes to me and says something like, “I have a friend who’s drinking way too much, what should I do?”And they’ll tell me some consequences that have happened, trouble with the friend’s work, family, or health giving “clues” that something has to change.There’s been an incident.
Read MoreIn my program a lot of people say things like, “this too shall pass,” and “one day at a time,” and “start the day over,” and “the past is history, the future’s a mystery, this moment is a gift that’s why it’s called the present.” So the whole New Year’s resolution thing seems kind of, anti-that.That idea that nothing is ever final, nothing is ever fatal, until I’m actually dead dead, and even then who knows.
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It’s time for me to soften up even more. That’s where the next green shoot of growth will come. In the soft heart that loves and beats without any effort on my part. It just comes
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I got triggered by something someone did the other day and it helped me identify a really old way of thinking and being that I’m 99.7% over.But that 0.3% jams me up from time to time, especially during the holidays.I don’t like that.
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I’m in bed, slept in.I can hear Charlie Brown blasting on the TV in the living room.I know what’s happening.Ax is watching his show while eating chocolate chip waffles his dad made.It’s Sunday and that’s what happens on Sunday morning at our house
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In some situations, counting to ten, or even 100, just doesn’t cut it.It’s not enough to get my brain back in my body and stop whatever emotional hijacking is going on.
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I asked Ax what I should write about today and he gave me this title.Right now he’s embarked on an 882-piece dragon which he’s methodically constructing step-by-step using the 163-page instruction booklet.
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I was going to write about money and economic insecurity today, because I visited my friend Fiona who legit lives on almost nothing and is going to be having even less coming in soon because the grant she’s had for a few years is not being renewed. So she’s scared.
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Last weekend I took a pleasure walk for the first time in more than a year. My friend Kyle and I made it about a mile before my foot started hurting, not a ton, just enough to make me stop walking and call for a pick-up from Kyle’s husband.
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The good thing about when physical pain gets loud is there isn’t a lot of choice about whether or not to change something to feel better. Something’s gotta change.
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God, seriously? WTF. The doctor says I have a herniated disc and shouldn’t sit on the newish white sectional anymore. Oy! Its fluffy fluffy fluffy luxurious deep down contours which require oh-so-decadent slouching are exacerbating a newish back problem.
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There’s a whole lotta magic available to me, I’m just starting to see. For reals. Thing is, it’s not wave a wand and poof type magic, it’s more plod plod plod plod plod plod plod and, “Wow I’m not what I was before” magic.
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So I’m looking out the biggish window in the front of our house, at the bushy green wall of ficus hedges we planted, and the ice blue pre-dawn sky above them. There are a few Dr. Seuss looking trees in the distance, pom pom puffs hanging from spindley branches reaching high in the sky.
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My body and my mind feel like solid rock some days. On those days, there’s so little give, so little space, that it’s an effort to simply walk. My back gets tight. I know it’s exacerbated by stress, or maybe even caused by stress.
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As a quasi-agnostic, I don’t love the word miracles, but it has a much better ring to it than “really unexpected good things.” Court Surprisingly Good Things. Nope, doesn’t do it the same way. And when I look at the world through wonder-colored glasses, miracle-courting glasses, it’s a much better place to be.
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There’s a character who’s on my side completely, on the side of my higher, more ephemeral self. The self that’s stronger than Evie, the evil inner critic, stronger than Princess Wah Wah, the inner grandiose victim, and bigger than Jenna, the merry domestic goddess.
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Honestly, at the peak of the flea situation I was ready to get rid of Cleo. Not permanently, just while she got de-flea’d. I know this thought makes me a bad cat person, possibly a bad person in general. But I’ve always considered myself a dog person who is too lazy and selfish to take care of dogs and therefore has a cat.
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