Childish Fears, Adult Nightmares

When I was a young child there were many unknown things to be wary of, including strangers. There were monsters with many eyes, others with multiple legs and still others that could fly. All of them seemed to meet up under my bed or in my closet when I should have been asleep. Naturally they’d disappear the minute a light was turned on or a parent came into the room, but I knew they were just hiding, waiting for the lights to go out again. I’m sure my parents got exhausted checking to prove there were no monsters hiding anywhere in my room. Just as I grew tired worrying about how far under all the sheets I needed to be just to hide from them at the foot of the bed.

Even worse for my parents was the that monsters liked to migrate during the day, sometimes slipping through the vents to the basement. And once they were down there, they’d just wait patiently, probably listening with anticipation for the moment my mother would send me down to fetch something. On trembling legs, tip toes only touching the floor, I’d try to stretch myself out as long as I could, so I could hit the lights without being down in the dark too far or too long. Once I had the requested item, I’d slap the light switch off, pound up those stairs with my heart right in my ears. I knew it was a close call, the monsters had just about gotten me, but I was fast.

At some point my mother got tired of my feet slamming on the stairs as I ran back up, just as she grew impatient with how slowly I’d make my way down those same stairs. My father would just shake his head and tell me not to stomp in his house. As though somehow he thought there were no monsters down in the basement. Of course he spent time down there alone so for all I know he may have made a deal with those monsters. They’d give him his space and he’d give them there.

They weren’t able to prove there were no monsters out in the bigger world though as I recall a young boy going missing when I started school. He was almost the same age as me and he just disappeared one day when he should have been walking home from school. I remember my mother reminding me of the importance to not stray from my path home and not to go with people I did not know. It was the first time I realized that there were things that could not be chased away by opening a door, or turning on a light.

I remember when they found the little boy, only because my mother seemed to hug me tighter and not let me out of her sight as much. I also remember my mother and father talking about how kids should just be safe to go to school, come home and play the way it was when my parents were young. I didn’t know that these horrors were old, that children had gone missing ever since children came into existence.

And as the fields I wandered in grew larger and further from home I realized that there were more monsters than I could ever have imagined on my own. And no amount of pounding feet or standing on tiptoes can keep us safe. No shining lights, checking under the covers or opening and closing a door can make those monsters disappear. Instead we can only hope we are prepared and able to avoid them at the same time.


Orange You Scared?

This year there shall be no pumpkin to carve. Not due to a pumpkin shortage, at least not here. From a quick check in the local grocery stores there is the typically glut of pumpkins around this time. And the lack of pumpkin carving is also not a direct result of Beloved not being here.

This year there shall be no pumpkin to carve simply because I have neither the strength nor the energy to acquiring said pumpkin at the store. I have no strength to schlep with said pumpkin to the car and then from the car to my house. And I certainly do not have the desire to use a somehow suddenly inadequate knife to carve into the innocent pumpkin’s flesh.

Plus, there is the four-footed one to consider. Or rather one must consider her response to the pumpkin. Just thinking about it, I shudder as I imagine her getting into the pumpkin innards that are scooped out for carving. Knowing her they would be scattered all throughout the house and ground into her fur.

Consider said pumpkin having a candle in it. Now picture the four-footed one, curious yet slightly cowed by this new thing. Yep you probably have pictured a barking mad dog, followed by a charging dog. And well I do not mind a good fire now and then, this isn’t’ the type of fire I have in mind. I have no desire to call my home insurance company and explain how a house fire was started by a dog. A dog charging at a pumpkin she was afraid of. I have no desire to be told that this falls under one of those million and ten acts that is not covered by my insurance because I’ve yet to come across a clause for fires started accidently by curious and frightened dogs.

So, no, this year there shall be no pumpkin in the house to carve. And yes, I know some of you will say that I should still acquire the pumpkin and have it just there on the steps. Except again, consider a curious and somewhat skittish dog. I do not need to go tumbling down a flight of steps and breaking my neck because the dog got scared and I ended up tangled up in her and the leash. And again, I’m pretty sure that my insurance doesn’t cover these types of things. So this year I say bah humbug to pumpkins and jack-o-laterns.

Season For The Birds

Summer means enjoying the sunshine, taking advantage of good weather, sunshine and such.  Autumn means crunching in the leaves while a crisp breeze comes up to make your cheeks pink.  Spring means mud, buds and damp weather.  Notice I skipped past winter?

I like to skip past winter.  I’m just not a winter sort of person.  Sure the first little bit of snow can look nice, but after that?  It’s just cold, doom and gloom and not much else. I know some people find ice skating or snowshoeing as fun activities.  Then there is the thrill of downhill skiing and snow boarding.  And I guess there may be fun in building snow people, forts and such.  But I struggle to get behind these things.  Because cold and I are not friends.

Each Year I work on getting okay with the cold, the freezing, the snow and the sleet.  I try to find the beauty, the fun and the adventure in this season.  And a few weeks into the cold, the snow and the winds I fail.  I fail miserably.  Because I am reminded how far away spring and summer are.  How far in the back Autumn is.  I am reminded that I must work through the long dark night that is winter.

So until I have to face the cold, or the snow or the winds, I am going to enjoy the good weather while I can.  And maybe this year I will follow the birds away from winter, y must know something I don’t know.

Avoiding The Unavoidable

I’ve been putting off tomorrow’s appointment for as long as I can.  Now I have nothing against this doctor, honestly he is a sweet and helpful man, but I just have been avoiding seeing him.  Because we both know where this appointment is going.

I would have continued to postpone this appointment, but while trying to get a prescription refilled I was told I had to actually see the doctor this time.  Gulp!  Oh sure he will be his usual pleasant, polite self as he tells me we are out of options.  No more putting this off.  And I will sit there in that small black chair and grasp at some other straw.  Anything other than a hospitalization.  Again.

Last time we danced around this very topic I was literally saved by the bell.  The fire alarm to be exact.  Going off down the hall so we got evacuated and by the time I got back, I had figured out my strategy was to take another six months just to really test how the current medication was or wasn’t working.  I think because he was somewhat distracted by things, he agreed to my request.

Short of getting another fire alarm this time, I somehow doubt I can ask for another six months of poor results and further health complications.  And it isn’t that I want to get worse, I just.  Look it’s a hospital.  Not my own home.  It’s not my bed, not my things and not my routine.  It means needing help…more than I care to have.  It means being vulnerable..more than I care to be.  And none of these things comes with the promise of getting better.  If I’m lucky they come with the promise of being stable.  Which frankly would be nice, I suppose, but it’s been so long since I’ve been stable I am kind of comfortable in my instability.

Of course Beloved has decided that my instability with how lupus affects my organs may migrate to making me irrational.  Why else, he wonders, do I put off what can help slow down if not prevent damage now.

Of course it isn’t him going into the hospital.  The freezing cold rooms.  The noise and smells.  The routine not like mine, the insistence that I rest when I have much still to do.  The food isn’t the same, the dogs won’t be there.  Oh I can draw a huge list, but before I get too far down the road, I will spend some time seeking straws to grasp for tomorrow’s appointment.

Here We Go…Again

I may have been cursed at birth, or perhaps I was born at the wrong time.  I have never been able to sit still, settle into one place and let my roots take hold.  I suffer from wanderlust, have the soul of a sailor who is always looking back out to the sea and suffer from itchy feet.

This occurred to me as Beloved settled into a comfortable chair and indicated he could get used to “here”.  I couldn’t see “here” or even “there” as being a place I could get used to.  There are always so many things to see, explore and learn and staying in one place just seems wrong.

Poor Beloved, the man mentioned a desire to go to Denmark for a day or two.  And off I went, a huge list of other places to go and see.  A need for more than a short flight, short drive or a tiny trip.

I can’t explain it, but the idea of calling one place home just gives me the creeps.  I can’t fathom being tied down completely to one place that offers no means away from the place.  Trapped I guess is the correct word.  Being trapped frightens me.  No exit strategy scares me.

While Beloved is finding the right location for the comfortable chair, my heart is yearning to pick up, pack up and head out to somewhere beyond.  Somewhere other, different and somewhat new.

Denmark is not a place that I see myself exploring for a few years.  I adore Denmark, but only for visits.  I feel the same about Finland, Sweden and Iceland.  These are places Beloved could see himself settling his comfortable chair into without any issue.

I wonder if comfortable chairs come with wheels and various or tracks etc. for mobility, just because you never know where my wanderlust will take me next!  Maybe swim fins need to be added too, just in case!

If Beloved no longer wishes to be a travel companion, maybe I can grab a roaming gnome or two!

Anchors in My Life and What Happens When They Break Loose

It’s a strange thing, an awful and strange thing, to lose a close friend or a best friend.  You feel unmoored, adrift and at the mercy of the uncertain water and weather.  You are, in a sense, drifting alone again in the mass ocean.  It is unnerving to say the least.

And we lose our best/close for a variety of reasons, from a falling out to death.  At least with a falling out you stand a chance of making amends, provided you didn’t create too big of a rift that it simply cannot be bridged.  Death is a bit more, well, final isn’t it?

I’ve lost best/close friends because of distance, life changes, screw-ups on my part and unfortunately deaths as well.  Some of the losses have been all my own doing, some of them have been mutual and just couldn’t be helped.  Some I could see coming from miles off in the distance and others took me completely by surprise.

Regardless of the circumstances, I’ve always felt lost, confused and as though part of me is missing when this happens.  It is as if something has been amputated from my body when in fact instead it has been carved out of my heart.  I mourn the losses, cherish the memories and try to not make ghe same mistakes or hurts again.

Ive also always been wary of calls late at night or early in the morning because they never come with goodness.  I’ve never been afraid of calls at two-thirty in the afternoon before.  But there is a first time for everything I guess and this is it.

Beloved hasn’t been well, he had some type of an accident while in France.  His friend phoned me from France this afternoon to tell me that something had happened, Beloved was taken to the hospital  and everything is touch and go.

This is the loss I cannot think of, I cannot face.  To lose him is to lose my very best friend in the whole world, well I cannot fathom life without my compass and biggest anchor.  Thankfully I don’t have to face that today.


Playing Favorites

Beloved has a favourite chair.  It’s where he sits to read for pleasure and for work.  It’s where he writes, edits and marks.  It’s where he watches tv and movies.  Sometimes it’s where he sleeps although he claims he is only resting his eyes! 😉😊

Recently Beloved has come to realize how much he adores this chair.  The four-footed members of our family have taken seeking refuge in the chair recently from the rolling thunder storms.  When trapped, scared or threatened these members of our family become all teeth and muscle.  They also develop suction cups on their paws, bellies and tails.  No amount of lifting, pulling or prying can get them out of the chair when they have deployed the suction cups.  Bribing and begging also do not work.  They will remain in the shelter of Beloved’s chair until they feel it is safe to leave it again.

These daily storms have not only hit the pets hard, for Beloved is suffering too.  Suffering the loss of his chair.  Suffering the discomforts and out of sorts that comes from being banished from his favourite chair. No other piece  of furniture has lived up to the chair’s comfort.  Some pieces are too hard, others too soft; some are too small and others too big.  He just wants his favourite chair, but not if it means sitting on the pets.  The pets with teeth.  The pets with teeth that they aren’t afraid to use.

the worst part of this whole nightmare, as Beloved puts it, is that we will be hard pressed to find another chair like the favourite one.  In his eyes if we could get a similar one, maybe the four-footed ones could be fooled.  Somehow I doubt it.  But if this is the thought that gets him through the torture of seeing others in his favourite chair then I will bite my tongue and wait for the thunder to stop rolling and instead have the sun to come out and play.