Happy things for January 2023

 I don't know why its been so long since I've written one of these, but here's the first one for the New Year.  Even in sad times, there are good things in my life.  Though I'm not an overly religious person, I do have a sure and steady faith that I am mindful of during my days and I express my thanks to God.  Mostly for:

*My home, which has everything I need to feel comfortable and safe.  Its pretty and smells clean, is warm, and comforting after a long day.  Yes, its big for one person.  But also yes that rent at a smaller place would be about the same as my house note.

*My health, which seems to be on an even keel.  My knee does not hurt, I haven't had a bout of bladder pain in a few weeks, I don't cry as often as I used to, I am cutting back on alcohol, and I am eating well - even while staying within a tiny budget.

*My car, which Subaru has agreed to pay half of the pricey auto repair recommended to me back in November.  Once that gets done, I will have the brakes and a couple of other services done.  I am working on the most important/expensive things first, making my way down the list.  This car is paid for and I plan on driving it a long time.

Those are the most important things to be happy about right now, though there are small ones that occur to me from time to time.  I like the way my back patio functions now after removing things I did not want (the ugly BBQ storage shed thingie) and adding things I did (my anti-gravity lounge chair and some Mexican blankets).  My nails are growing and my hair is not falling out as much.  I have books to read and things to stitch.  I have friends I can vent to, joke with, bounce ideas off of.  And I have plans going forward in the spring.  Lots to looks forward to, even amongst the grief that seems to hang on and on...

a grief letter to an old friend

I met up with a friend for a beer last week.  As always, she was understanding and kind and gave me some good things to think about.  It occurred to me afterwards that I never wrote a grief letter to another friend of mine - we have struggled with staying connected through this.  In frustration, I blocked her on my phone and then remembered the idea of the letter to express what I felt.

{A grief letter is intended to let someone know how you feel, what you need, and what you wish they would understand as you travel thru grief} 

I sent it to her, via snail mail.

And as always, I second-guessed myself.  Did the letter seem too harsh and self-centered?  Did I consider the stress and helplessness my friend, living far away from me, might have felt?  I do feel as though I expressed many times to her what I needed, but she didn't understand, I guess.  It was so hard to redirect her, and ultimately it wasn't successful.  But I think it is important to be honest with her.  Only time will tell if the friendship survives.

Oops, I did it again

A photo I took the week after Christmas as I sat on my patio at home.  Looks bleak, doesn't it?

I actually didn't feel bleak when I took this photo, but in hindsight it looks ominous...

Well.

I managed to make a mess, both literally and figuratively.  First by not bleeding the pipes properly at Highlands, fixing that one that was cracked, then wrapping the whole thing back up with insulation before the latest freeze.  And second, by panicking when I discovered the geyser flooding the top of the hill, draining my well and working my pump to exhaustion, then calling Chloe immediately.

In my defense, it was very stressful.  And I just reacted.  And she always answers her phone and gives me good advice.

But it caused her to panic as well, ruined her day, and made her feel angry.

And for that, most of all, I am regretful.

Things for me to keep in mind:

*I wasn't the only one who lost someone

*my kids are adults, but they aren't my peers

*I can still be their Mom

*I can handle emergencies with a calm head on my own.

All I can can do is say that I'm sorry, and promise to never let that happen again, and leave her be.

No one ever tells you how hard it is to parent adults.