Exhaustion

That feeling of wanting to tell people about the things that are troubling you because maybe someone who is reading it can relate and not feel so alone themselves, or maybe someone could offer hope, but holding back the details because the echo of “who cares?” rings on in a mocking tone…

Knowing that few to no people read my blog, I am relatively safe to go with my first feeling and do some venting.

My blog here on WordPress is not like the dreaded Facebook where any one of 560 people might suddenly decide to post a rude comment to make themselves feel superior and knock me down a little further.

Why do I have such volatile people on my friend list in the first place? Well, they don’t show that side at first. It’s not until they get to know me more that they see things about me that they dislike and they feel safe to blast me.

Wow, does that ever sound familiar. That was the case with the ex. He seemed so nice at first. And he sure saw a lot about me that he disliked. I did him a favour and removed my reprehensible self from his presence, but he took it as an offense and did all he could do to punish me for leaving.

Of course, that is far in the past, yet he and his new wife retain an interest in keeping tabs on me. They find out about things I write on my Facebook timeline when it is set so supposedly only “friends” can read it. I don’t write anything I wouldn’t want to be read by them, but it is strange that they get my news without being on my friend list.

Apparently, someone on my friend list is an informant.

I must be important!

Sometimes I don’t feel like being so visible, so I retreat to another Facebook account that contains a smaller number of friends, none affiliated with the ex and co.

They all might read this, too.

I don’t care.

On an unrelated note, today I drank too much coffee. I had three cups. Normally, I have one or zero cups. It is late in the evening. I want to sleep but am too caffeinated, so I am writing here.

And today was emotionally exhausting.

That is all I will say about that.

I wish some really nice person would read this and message me with an offer to come take me to a cabin in the wilderness for free, telling me the only catch is that I produce at least 200 pages of my book draft before they will return to bring me home.

The really nice person could give me a day to pack. I’d bring my laptop, my journals, a toothbrush, toothpaste, some clothes, and some food.

The really nice person would come pick me up, drive me to the cabin, and then drive back to my house to care for my kids while I am gone. They would be a patient and loving soul, able to coach my family on the importance of initiative in doing chores, explaining to them how much it has been killing me to be the manager and executor of far more than a mother should do, and that if they don’t lighten her load considerably, her next departure will be permanent, as her strength will have expired and death will claim her.

I am tired. Maybe my mind will slow down and I can sleep.

Tomorrow might be better. Or worse. Who knows?

(And yeah… Who cares?)

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Perfume and Anxiety Reduction

Could it be that a beautiful perfume might reduce my feelings of anxiety?

Breathing deeply is supposed to help, so maybe if I buy that bottle of Meow perfume, about which I wrote in yesterday’s blog entry, it will encourage me to partake of more air when it is of a lovely scented variety.

That thought occurred to me as my almost-4-year-old daughter placed her oatmeal bowl on my desk.  She said, “I’ll leave this here for you, Mama, so you can smell it.  Go like this…”

And she demonstrated a deep breath, which she released with a satisfied, “ahhhhhh”.

Siggy

I didn’t want a box around my signature.
How do I remove it?

Related posts:

Flashbacks from this time a few years ago

Today, I keep having flashbacks of January/February 2004, when I was living in the women’s shelter.

I have had several flashbacks of going through the search for a place to rent.

It was January 25, 2004, when I made the final step in my escape from the abusive ex.

There’s more, but that’s all I want to say about that for now.

Here’s the long story, needing chapter divisions and grammatical revisions:  http://holy-sheepdip.blogspot.ca/2011/08/why-i-escaped-and-from-what-did-i.html

Remembering a happier me

Video

For several weeks, due to various circumstances, I had been in a deep, dark depression, which started to lift a few days ago.

I am not sure what caused it to lift.

It could have been because of the prayers of friends.

It could have been because of the remedy given to me by my homeopath on January 18 starting to work.

It could be the various supplements from my naturopath, which I started on January 11, to get me on the road to healing from adrenal burnout, kicking in.

It could have been because of answers to unspoken questions in my tormented heart finally being answered from within the confines of silence.

It could be a combination of all of the above, or it could be something I haven’t even guessed.

Up until a few days ago, I didn’t care if I lived.

Now, however, I feel like I want to get better.

I am not sure how far this seed of hope will grow, but for now, I am grateful it is growing.

This video is from May or June of 2011.  I hope I can someday be that happy on a regular basis.

Thinking about changing my blog banner photo

I’m thinking about changing the main photo that appears at the top of my blog.  It’s the same photo as I use on my original blog (Holy Sheepdip at Blogger).

I purposely put the same photo up on this WordPress blog so that readers (even if they be only me) would feel at home.

Now, however, I’m thinking maybe it’s just confusing, and I’m considering changing it.

Just talking to myself…

How I Got Drinking Water In The Alaskan Wilderness

my friend Vincenzo posted this at his blog:

muddied waters
what will it take
for me to see again
for you to settle?

~ vincenzo ©

my reply was this:

muddied waters. reminds me of how i used to get my drinking water when i lived in the wilderness of southeast alaska for several years. during the months when the snow wasn’t too deep, we would ride our 4-wheelers, or drive our truck, to a spring a mile away.

the spring was maybe 10 feet wide, roughly circular, and about 2-3 feet deep.

we’d crouch to the forest floor with our 5-gallon Rubbermaid water coolers, gently submersing the coolers into the fresh, delicious spring water, careful not to allow them to touch the silty bottom.

if we accidentally hit the bottom of the spring, the water would get muddied, and we’d have to empty the contents of our cooler and wait till the water got clear.

i think i feel an analogy in this.

He Touched Me

“He touched me, Oh He touched me
And, oh, the joy that floods my soul
Something happened and now I know
He touched me and made me whole.”

(He Touched Me – Midi File)

When I lived in a remote forest location of Southeast Alaska, we made the big trip into town one day to watch an Easter play performed by a Sunday School class.  It was the most moving rendition of the Resurrection account I have ever seen.

I recorded it on my big ol’ VHS camcorder.

My oldest two children, all I had at the time, then aged two and three, were so impressed by one part of the show that they used to imitate it.

They’d stand there in the little terrycloth bathrobes I’d made for them, hoods over their heads, swaying a little bit, as they sang a capella just like the girl in the show, “He touched me, Oh He touched me, and oh the joy that floods my soul…”

I’ve got video of that, too.  It’s always a treat to haul out one of the old tapes to bring back the memories afresh.

But today, that song came to mind, and these memories accompanied it even without the videos.