Monday, February 25th. . .

Monday, February 25th...Day 10, already, of NC visit and I have yet to 'blog.'  I could have written about the unseasonal blizzard that followed us all the way down I 95, and about the ground that was still snow-covered when we arrived at Jenn's and Allen's. I also might have described how wonderful it was to have most of my family all together in one place; what a joy it was to listen to the eager reunion of laughing siblings and the chattering - sometimes bickering - of "the cousins" (as they so aptly refer to themselves.)  I was much too immersed in all of that as it was happening and, later, basking in it to take time to write about it.  But all too soon, it was over.  Dan and Michelle were back home across the state and Cindy and kids on their way back to French Woods. 
 

I am having some memorable moments, one of the most poignant when Kaitlyn (almost four) said to me: "I am very sad......because I miss Grampa Bob." (Whom she has never actually met.)  I am always in awe of the capacity of children to grasp that which we believe to be beyond their understanding.

While the McQuiston family is at work and school, I have been spending quiet hours knitting, meditating, and practicing relaxation exercises in hopes of finding the path that will lead me in my journey to a clearer mindset.  I am noticing fewer, less severe anxiety attacks and for that I am thankful.

I don't know yet when I'll be going home.  There is much to be said for focusing on just one day at a time (which is what I have been doing) but I suppose I need to get a plan in place for my return trip.
 

Maybe I'll think about that tomorrow.  Right now, I'm just 'twitching' to get my hands on the *new yarn* I bought yesterday!

Where have I been. . .

Where have I been? That's what I have been asking myself these past couple of months. I feel as though time has been toying with me; or that I have been 'somewhere else' for the past five years. Asleep, maybe...emerging, now, from an unsettling, vivid dream. During November, a realization occurred suddenly one day, that time had not stood still since January of 2008! That realization left me feeling as though I was being thrust into a reality I hadn't prepared myself for. How could I have? We never know what is on the 'next page.' I looked around and saw that the older grandkids had matured beyond the point where they were five years ago, and the little ones (now, too, maturing) had not even been born then. My own grown children are different, too. They have been steadily gaining five more years' worth of wisdom and confidence...and it shows. As I glance around my house, I notice little things as well as some home improvements that, until my recent 'awakening,' I was still referencing as "new" when, in fact, they are now quite established. Some, needing a little touch-up here and there. Intellectually, I have had total awareness of what was happening while, at the same time, emotionally, I was blind-sided.  Again, I ask, "Where have I been?" during this leg of my journey.

The question took me over some peaks and through some valleys as I embarked on my quest to clear the muddle from my mind. I knew, given the way I was feeling, that this was going to take awhile.  Reluctantly, I even postponed my usual visit with my NC families.  I had no stamina for traveling nor did I think it was a good idea to subject them to my present eccentricities.  Although, they’re probably used to it by now.  =^)   Having decided to stay home, I secluded myself away from anything that felt the least bit stressful. (...counting my blessings for being in a position to do that.) I spent a lot of time just knitting, sometimes for entire days. The rhythm is relaxing and allows me to probe deep inside the core of my thoughts, and the creative satisfaction is a plus, too. There were dark days and bright days; depression and joy; quiet time, music and prayer; and some tears and laughter, too.  The most difficult obstacle for me during these months was the prolonged anxiety attacks that struck anytime-anywhere. I don't know which is worse -- the fear in not knowing what's happening or the frustration of knowing, yet being unable to 'turn them off' on your own.  During an attack, it is physically draining to maintain a facade of normalcy while interacting with others.  Fatigued, I slept more than usual.

Briefly, what I have concluded as a result of my painstaking seclusion is that I have been rather numb these past five years.  That is, the initial raw grief has subsided and in its place is a tender aching that has chiseled out its own permanent little chamber in my heart.  I have been living and dealing with life in a way that has become pleasant and comfortable to me.  I thought, “Oh, I guess *this* is how it’s going to be,” but I was mistaken.   There was more to come.  I mentioned being numb.  What I mean is that, in a way, I felt ‘safe’ because, you see, nothing really mattered.  The worst thing I could imagine had already happened, so I had just been putting in my time, so to speak; moving forward a day at a time.  Enthusiastic anticipation of anything I really cared about was part of my past, I thought.  I was simply holding up my end of God’s bargain.  The one that reminds me that as long as I am here, I must be here for a purpose, and by golly, I vowed to do my utmost to fulfill my part!  That hasn’t changed.  However, there has been some transitioning taking place and I am finding myself genuinely looking forward to some of what remains in the future.  This feels foreign to me right now and I believe that in order to protect my heart, I am instinctively resistant.  Now that I understand that, I’m sure more insights will follow and I will find my way back to a peaceful place just as one might come upon a meadow after being lost in the woods.  

The good thing is that I have learned to journey through the middle of these ‘dark woods’ with the assurance that, sooner or later, (in God’s time) I will see light begin to filter through the trees and I, like my kids and grandkids, will have grown and be all the wiser for it.

 

That’s where I’ve been………….