Surprise, Thursday began as a cloudy day, so I was slow getting started on the watering. And because I was slow, I was slow getting to do the things that I really wanted to do and that was raking, toting, pruning and more toting. It was a very relaxing day with no walks as Sheba is still limping.
I did a laundry and got it out on the line as soon as I could, hoping it would dry and soak up all those wonderful fragrant molecules of fresh air. I felt good all day, and I looked forward to the evening on the chaise. I’ve today and tomorrow to get as much as I can done before the rains come in earnest.
I did not do a single one of the things that I wanted to do. All I did was water all the beds, but I will get to work on the raking and pruning with Colleen this morning when she arrives. Sheba didn’t want to walk all day, but she spent most of the day outdoors with me. However, she is perking up and walking with no limp so today should be a day for at least one good walk.
The clinic called me yesterday afternoon. Jennifer wants to talk to me about the x-ray, but the lump in my foot is clearly not an urgent problem. My appointment to speak with her is on October 14th. That’s six weeks from now! In the meantime, I hobble.
I did my walkabout last night under smokey skies from forest fires. The best part is the amout of birds again. I started putting food out and it’s attracted quite a few regulars (I think). It’s a time of year that makes me reflect. When Summer ends, I tend to think a lot about the past. When leaves fall, every single year of my life it makes me remember walking to Ridgeview, my elementary school.
It's the season of Thanksgiving, which also makes me think of endings and losses. It’s a ponderous time of year. Yesterday I was thinking about when I met my birth mother. I thought it might heal my soul to meet her; I thought I might make a bond. But sadly, no. Aside from pleasantries, when we had our very first meaningful talk, she opened it.
She told me the story of my father. It was quite a story, a war story. But the next day, she recanted. She told me that she’d lied and didn’t know why, and she told me another story that I knew to be the story of how she got pregnant and had my half-sister ten years prior to my birth. I knew from the social worker who put us together. Two days, two lies, and more disappointments followed. There was no healing, no bond.
Instead, it was my adopted mother, and her husband, who changed my life, for their behaviour brought on my breakdown, and that changed my life forever. Healing has come from my new understanding of their influence on me. And I have to say, I have no gay pride. It has always pissed me off that I am gay because what I always thought would heal me best and most completely would be having a child.
Regardless of my disappointments, however, I was blessed with relentless and indestructible happiness. I was born with a half-full glass in my hand, and that has saved me. When I was young, I believed it was because God knew that I was lonely. I knew he was an adult Santa Clause, but I needed someone to talk to about life. My every salutation was, “Send me a sister.”
So, today I expect Colleen and I will get a lot done in the garden beds and the yard. I’m hoping she will tote the piles of detritus I’ve created, and then do the gardening while I finish the raking. I’m already excited about next year. I’m hoping for plumbs for the first time.
Today’s dawned under thick overcast skies. It was supposed to be sunny today and likely the last day of Summer, for tomorrow the rains come. But they might have arrived early. We’ll see. A big change is coming. I’ve lost my indoor mojo. I want to be outside all day.
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| This is my west wall last Summer when I had a large and awkward deer fence. |
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| This is the west wall this year, and soon the show will begin. Last year, the show was gorgeous, all yellow and red. |
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| My new chaise. It is a lovely evening nest for me. |
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| Mission accomplished: The hot tub is out of view. I love the golden light at the end of the day. |
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| My path into the forest. My yard backs against Crown Land. |
2 comments:
Hi Chris. I was very interested in your words about meeting your birth mother and desire to have a child. I was in several foster homes, three before the age of 5 and just this morning realized I've gone just over two weeks without even thinking about my mother or feeling (understandably) enraged or grief striken. I am a peaceful minded person who occasionally is struck down by grief, rage, sadness. Most of the time though I'm pretty happy, laid back and easy going. That's my basic personality. I left home for the last time when I was 15. I met my son's father while living partly on the street and partly at a place called Cool Aid in Vancouver. We hitchhiked to Toronto and then took a train to Montreal where he was from. I was using false identification but we were fairly easily able to get on assistance. Our worker asked me if I wanted to go on birth control (by this time I was 16) and I decided I wanted to have a baby. I believed this child would provide me with all the love I'd lacked when living with my mother (I happily had mostly good experiences in foster care and with my maternal grandmother, aunt and cousins) and this was the best thing I could do. It turned out that whatever was wrong with my mother got passed onto my son (I have no doubt it's genetic). We had mostly good early years (I raised him mostly on my own, a child raising a child) but there were problems such as him getting suspended indefinitely from school in grade 2 due to him having become too harmful to the other kids and teachers. It was very confusing and I ended up with the help of some wonderful people but he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia at 14. He's now 53, in prison in Prince George and has expressed (among other dreadful things) the desire that I commit suicide. One of my few regrets in this life isn't that I had him, but that I wasn't capable of providing him with what he needed given his obvious challenges. I carry him closely in my heart, but we haven't spoken in almost 7 years and I don't expect we ever will again. What has been most beneficial in my healing is I believe in part, my temperament and personality, a LOT of ongoing counselling, journalling, and research into Developmental Trauma/C-PTSD. Also, I think, a few peope in my life who I was able to connect with and feel like I was safe to be who I am, to show myself. I did learn that healing from this kind of trauma is life long. I go through longer periods where I'm not tormented and the torments are much less intense. I get a sense that your home and property and beloved creatures are a huge part of your healing. Nature has always been a major comfort to me and I see my cats (many over the years) as beings who have been in my life and even taken care of me and so now I take care of them.
My son was rediagnosed with bipolar disorder about 15 years ago. Who knows what it is though...
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