Saturday, January 16, 2021

It's Been That Kind of Life

As my dream ended, so did my sleep.  Although it was quite late for breakfast, I quietly made a cup of steaming hot Yorkshire gold tea, and slowly sipped it as I curled up in my armchair that comfortably loves me, and stared out of the window onto the world of the street I live on.  Such peace for a short time until reality replaced it with pestering cats wanting breakfast before dinner.

It’s been a lonely life in a way, with car seats as hard as my concrete benches.  It’s as if the devil himself is driving me into the jaws of hell when I take my place on that unforgiving cushion of pain.  I can say the same about sitting at this computer for any length of time, like now, as I try to ignore the increasing pain.  Of course, it’s not what I’m sitting on that’s guilty; it’s the pinched nerve in my tush that is incapable of un-pinching.  Steroid injections and ice packs are my reality.

After years of complaining of a buzzing sensation over my body when going to bed, my orthopedic doctor’s technician diagnosed me with peripheral neuropathy pain when she saw me on a visit after I couldn’t sleep all night because my feet felt like they were on fire.  Still perfecting the dosage, how I feel now after taking pregabalin (Lyrica), seems just short of a miracle.  The pain endured from my degenerative disk disease has also lessened, and I find it possible to wake up after a full night’s sleep with less pain.

Enough of all that babbling, and on with this morning.  Just finished a breakfast of leafy green salad, and now on to whole grain crackers slathered in almond butter and black cherry jam, just because I eat when my focus on my life is out of kilter.  This morning’s dream…a dream filled with bits and pieces plucked out of that rusty old file cabinet of life’s horrors stored in that section of my mind that never forgets things in random sequence.

I’m on the main street of my little home town with two friends soon joined by a third friend.  We stop at the soda fountain at the five and dime store for milkshakes.  Somehow I wind up with a box full of books, pamphlets and papers.  We all get up to go, and as I put on my coat, I realize my friends have already exited the store.  My drink and box of books are gone.

I’m wondering if the clerk or my friends took them.   I hurry out the door and watch my friends talking to each other as they walk down the sidewalk, and I’m wondering if they will realize I’m not with them and wait for me.  As they drive off in their car, I’m left alone…as if invisible even when acknowledged.  If anyone wants a rusty old file cabinet… it’s free.

It would seem I’m still celebrating Christmas, since my decorations haven’t leaped off the walls and wrapped themselves up for storage.  Some of the fault is my quest for a feeling of the beauty of the Christmas’s of my youth, and realizing as I stare at the fireplace display, that feeling is not there.  Basically, I hate it.

Another set of boxes for height; three more snowmen, as a bunch of Santa Clauses staring just gives one the heebie jeebies; and a collection of trees.  Still lacking, all the nooks and crannies are being stuffed with smaller remembrances of reindeer, mice and stars.  Preferring paper mache and cloth over resin, I’m settling for resin more often than not.  Very hard finding the old anymore.

Vic quit his full time part time job, and I’m earnestly working on finishing my ‘me room’.  As much as I care about my husband, being in his space twenty four hours a day seven days a week is not my cup of tea.  Checking into the reality clinic, most of my crafts paraphernalia is gone.  I literally have no one to give things to or make things for, so that part of my life no longer works for me.

The old particleboard desk is being replaced by a wood credenza that I might receive within three months time, due to the situation of slow processing these days.  Vic already gave me a large TV and all the junk that goes with it, as it’s all most important according to life with Vic.  Music’s most important according to life with Yvonne.

At this moment, I literally know not where my next day will lead me.  What do I want for the remaining years of my life?  Dying in my sleep doesn’t seem to be an option according to Vic… he gets a little perturb when I mention it :)  Hopefully I’ll figure it out before the end of time.

While the temperature today was to be closer to 50 degrees, the reality plus the extreme winds made it quite freezing outside while I attempted to photograph the remains of a glorious summer tucked in for the wintery weather ahead.  I literally had to go where the wind blew me if I didn’t want a battle.  The sparseness of my efforts doesn’t leave me with much to work with, but perhaps it’s befitting of a life not quite on track.

While I began this piece with breakfast, I’m ending it hours beyond night chasing day over the horizon.  After many breaks, my bum can take it no longer, and it will take twenty minutes on icy gel packs before I shout out halleluiah.  A walk outside with the dog reveals tiny ice flakes sifting onto the earth with a few actual snowflakes mixed in.

Perhaps I’ll wake up to a lovely light layer of snow, perhaps not.  Either way, it will be serene to quietly make a cup of steaming hot Yorkshire Gold tea, and slowly sip it as I curl up in my armchair that comfortably loves me, and stare out of the window onto the world of the street I live on.  Take care.

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