Wishing you courage

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying 'I will try again tomorrow'."
- Mary Anne Radmacher

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Summer activities have kept me too busy to write; I've a mental list though of things to discuss - all GOOD things, making progress through the grief mire kinds of things. I wanted to tell you about how well the garden is doing and post some pictures of it, and tell you about my resolve to return to the gym and do tons of yoga. Now that company is gone and the house is still the "happy" phase has taken a hiatus. Thanks for visiting, it was nice while it lasted.

Depressed musings begin here, feel free to stop reading at this point.

I have banned myself from the garden. A few days ago I got unreasonably upset by snarky comments addressed to me via LJ and retreated to the garden to calm down. I saw a butterfly flitting around the impatiens. It was the first one I've seen and I didn't expect to see any this year due to the spray I used during the Japanese Beetle saga (perhaps more battling the beetles later since that is actually useful information). I just stood there, unmoving, mouth agape. It was joined by another butterfly, both small and white. They explored the impatiens, then my gardenias, then the neighbors yard, back to the impatiens ...

Most of the planting is done in the garden, just a few ground cover plants and annuals to place. Otherwise the work of creating the garden is almost done - next is maintenance and providing an environment that encourages growth. After weeks of work one would, should, be happy with the progress, especially with seeing butterflies, since that is a major point of the garden.

It's odd then how much I hate the garden sometimes - my sanctuary, my prayer, my distraction. A few hours after seeing the butterflies I had a vision where I leveled the garden. Plants ripped out, cut apart, stomped into a pulp. Trellis twisted, glass centerpiece shattered. Rocks screamed at then thrown out of the yard. I can't face the garden right now. I don't trust myself to nurture it. Luckily this area is getting rain this week and hopefully by the time I need to water again I'll be eager to look for new growth and such.

The Jizo statue arrived last week but it's head had broken off during transit. It's this statue. A replacement statue is expected to arrive next week. I wanted to do something special to welcome Jizo to the garden...not sure what to do though.

Lame, sad stuff
The snarky comment that upset me was because I didn't talk to someone in the grocery store. Hurt her feelings, obviously retaliation is a must by telling all of our mutual friends how much I suck. Whatever... this kind of stuff doesn't bother me too much, however it made me realize that I am in AnnaLand a lot.

The density of the fog I've been living in has me shocked, horrified, ashamed. Through the haze, introductions, faces, names are obscured and quickly forgotten. I don't look at people in grocery stores, I don't care who may be there.

Most of the time now I hold it together - polite, happy appearance, well aware that this is what is expected of me while in public and at home with my husband. I've been crying for the past two nights though. Little things set me off. The down mood began before I even checked the calendar to see what was going on last year... wow, suddenly I'm having trouble even writing about this ... about a year ago my son was implanting. The pregnancy was beginning. It seems impossible that it was that long ago. Almost an entire year out of my life has been wasted, spent in sorrow, barely getting through the days.

This has gotten too sad for me now. More later.


debbie said...

I sometimes feel that way about the last four years of my life . . . trying so hard to make family happen. I guess I just wanted you to know you aren't the only one in tears when nobody else is looking.

debbie said...

Oh, and I love the Jizo statute, thanks for pointing it out on your blog. I'm sorry yours came broken, how sad. Maybe your new one has arrived by now--all shiny and peaceful and optimistic.