A Study in Inconsistencies

The house is quiet this afternoon as all have parted to rest after the funeral, graveyard, and repasse. I've kept up my writing though not my posting as I need some space of review before I share the work in progress. The series titled Notes From the Rabbit Hole, chronicles various aspects of reconnecting with my family of origin in the town where I lived from sixth through twelfth grade. On any given day I am assaulted by people who insist that I remember them even in the face of my blank expressions. I have been gone for 37 years. I did not socialize when I was here and was not attracted nor compelled to return.

The niceness patterns are overwhelming for me. I want to shout, stop pushing at me. No, I will not stay in touch. In my gentle voice, I say, thank you for your concern. No, we have plenty of food today. If you could save those dishes for when I leave it will be so helpful. Let me of here. I don't say the last part. I think it. People corner me and have conversations with the same stories I have heard the night before. They have no real interest in me at all. I just realized, I look exactly like my mother once did. Maybe they are just working out their grief. (Wow. I was probably low on love and compassion. I smiled a lot fighting to subdue my cross face - also my mother's.)

I am always pushing for some genuine interaction but it is slow in arriving. Even when I say that I have not been here for 37 years AND that I live two hours away, no one challenges that point. Where were you? What were you doing? How come you didn't come back? We are your relatives and we don't know you? Why are you even here now? How was your relationship with your mother?

They don't ask because I will answer. I am clear of the reasons and willing to share my feelings and opinions. I am thankful to have walked along the river and talked with my brothers. As hard as I thought my life was, theirs was awful. Even as I saw they had extensive privilege extended to and for them, they endured at least nine more years of misery and the continued distress associated with maintaining connection. I was saddened to learn of their mistreatment. I would have beat the shit out of people who were mean to my children the way my brothers suffered.

In thirty-six hours, I will be the only one here again. Well, I will be the one providing conscious support to my father. We will have thank you notes to send for the flowers and gifts. We will keep cleaning out the house of my mother's stuff. We will focus on one day at a time. My father said, well, that's done. I made it through this much. I replied, that's all that is required. As we learn to live each moment as it comes, we will find peace is already here.

Stuff

The process of change

In the past six months I have been taking a hard look at the amount of stuff I have in my space. I have recycled, reduced and reused much of what I have and still it is way too much. I had the garage sale, gave away bags, piles, and stacks. I posted some things on line and one even sold. Still, there is way too much. Finally, I will have to just donate the final bits and be done. There is no profit from hoarding just any old thing. I have too much.

On the other hand, I have a lot, more than enough. So much so, if you came to visit me and had a need, I could easily, willingly and openly offer to share with you. This is how I have always seen my life – that I would be a storehouse of information and necessities. Today, I do not believe I can offer that kind of generosity if I am focused on having only the minimum. Giving you my last shirt leaves me naked and seeking clothes.

Today the sales come out and will last through next Tuesday. There are several items which I don’t actually need myself, but are a fabulous buy at the sale price and I have a great coupon, making an even better deal. So between now and then I will head out to purchase those items. We are called to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. I plan to have the means to do so. 

I am a great shopper. That’s how I ended up with so much. I didn’t buy most of it, but learning to find a deal has served me well in the past. I am just in from the grocer to have found my coffee price increased sixty cents. In the past I would have bought four cans each month. I have a thing about running out. I also have a thing about paying way more money than I prefer. However, in this last hundred days I have been paring down, delaying shopping, using what I have. That style of shopping is likely to cost me in the long run. One might think that things even out in the end, but sometimes they don’t. If prices keep going up, I would prefer to have enough to last until I find a really good sale or a new supply. Not only coffee, but any items I am attached to having.

We’ve got to think things through for ourselves. We have to really decide if we are interested in living with less because we want to, believe we have to, or because we find it serves our lives to do so. What do I want to be when I grow up? I want to be happy. I plan to be happy. Being happy for me includes having my favoritist things around. I like lots of teas, espresso coffee, half and half, raw sugar, wine, chocolate, scotch, books, paper, pens, yarn, fabric, fuzzy blankets, my computer, smartphone, camera, earrings, and particular glasses from which to drink specific libations. 

I’m home now. Surrounded by my stuff. I feel welcome, relaxed, and at peace. When you come to visit, no matter how long your journey, we will kick a space clear for you and pour a cup of tea or glass of wine. You, too, may indulge in the abundance of my stuff. There is enough of everything for everyone – including you.

Falling leaves - 41 days

Begonias, bright and beautiful

Its fall and I love mums. I love new mums in the fall; new mums in pots on the porch and about the yard. But more than buying new plants, which would go a long way to soothe my heart/mind after the miserable night I just had, my deepest desire is to leave this job – and to do so, according to plan. 

More begonias, strong and full

It was another difficult night. It started incredibly bad. Even before I arrived things were in a state of upheaval. I thought I would just follow the plan that had been laid out without asking any questions. I am practicing going with the flow. I have to practice because my natural inclination is to question the process. At the time, it seemed the best plan to avoid conflicts and undue stress. I was wrong. Before we had even turned over charge of the desk I had already become embroiled in angst. Angst is the best word to describe the shouting, dismissive tones used to address me. While I perfectly understood that things were going downhill, I could feel even more deeply how very much I preferred to be elsewhere.

When I am doing as asked someone is mad and clear that they have a right to be rude, condescending and or dismissive toward me. When I make an attempt to find support or help for the customers we serve, the staff are angry that they have to do their jobs. When I mind my own business and stay clear of any process that is directly part of my job I am held accountable for not anticipating the needs of staff and meeting them. Most days I feel like I work for and with alcoholics - walking on eggshells because they are extremely sarcastic and defensive. 

Someone left their coffee cup in the drawer, full of coffee, upside down. Someone made a dish of crackers and broth and left powdered broth on a washcloth on the counter, crackers on the counter, and coffee spill everywhere. There was a towel on the floor. Why? I pick up, clean up, restock, tend, clear, pitch, and wipe. I’d like to post one of those signs that say, “I am not your mother. Clean up behind yourselves.” But the reality is there are signup sheets to clean up behind others.  Then I remember I get paid the same no matter what the task.  I do complain, but it makes no different; merely another opportunity to let go.

Pumpkin, waiting...

Temperatures and turning leaves are falling. Exiting the building these mornings I open to the changing seasons. September has faded away and in four weeks I begin the closing process. The anguish over flu vaccinations has quieted. Within I agree to hold my tongue. These days the most important thing on my mind is staying employed until I am ready to submit my resignation. 

I allow these nights, with their myriad challenges, to remind me of my priorities:

I appreciate the beauty around me.

I am thankful for the foundation I have lain and the abundance the blooms forth.

Fall berries on the vine

I recognize that I have more than enough and that all my needs are met.

I honor the lessons even in the most difficult situations.

I remain alert and aware of my surrounding.

I allow each person to follow their own path, just as I wish to follow mine.

I am thankful for each day with its blessings.

Everything works out in the end. If it hasn’t worked out, it’s not the end.

Further along the journey…

Grief and gratitude are kindred souls, each pointing to the beauty of what is transient and given to us by grace.

Patricia Campbell Carlson
(Letter to a friend)