Wednesday, July 31, 2019

A Day in the City

Living with clinical anxiety (PTSD) and without medications is challenging when I leave home without Sheba as I did yesterday. 
I once rented a horse from a stable to go riding and it was hugely disappointing because the horse took no direction and just plodded along as we went for a ride under the high tension wires in North Vancouver. He’s stop to eat berries no matter what I did; I was his prisoner. And then, when it was time to go back and I tugged at the reins to turn him, he bolted and galloped at full speed right back into the barn. I had absolutely no control.
I’m like that horse in a way: My departure and the return experiences are radically different. Being to Vancouver was dreadful. The constant conversations of strangers to each other and into their phones and all the noises of the city crush my soul. I felt dreadful until I was walking on the (largely empty) seawall in warm sunshine to meet Bruce for lunch.
Coming home, on the other hand, was a euphoric experience. I could speak to others and I was quite comfortable ‘once I turned around.’
I pigged out at lunch. I loved every second with my friend and I was passionate for better food than we get on the island. I wanted lots of it. Then I went to see my asthma doctors and now I have a third asthma medication! This one may help my breathing at night. My God I take a lot of meds—but not the mood altering kind.
It was gorgeous and sunny coming home; I was one of only two passengers again and Mr. personable (Ryan) was the pilot. Sheba went nuts when she saw me; it was the first time I’d left her away from home (at Anna’s). It felt very  good to get home and reunite with my ‘family.’
Today I go on the small group dog walk and then I go to the doctor’s to see what the Hell is wrong with my wrist and learn how to help it heal. Then I’ll work in the gardens to make everything pretty for Steve et al.

Tuesday, July 30, 2019

To The Big City

Monday began with a community dog walk. It was a truy lovely morning; the temperature was perfect. When I got home, I did a thorough watering that I refreshed this morning. I’m off to Vancouver to go to see my asthma doctor today.
After I watered everything yesterday, I took Sheba to Sandwell Beach and ran into Jillian and her son Reilly. I’ve known Jillian for decades. She’s an incredible actor; she and her husband have an escape place here but live in Vancouver. It was really nice to see a familiar face on a local trail.
Then I baked cookies so the jar is full for the visit of Steve et al. After that came a spa and then a relaxing evening with Her Highness.
I’m going to try to do the impossible today: I’m going to try to get my doctor to see me on time. I have to, because if he doesn’t, I may miss my plane home. It’s this kind of stress that destroys my equilibrium; I get migraines and my PTSD symptoms flower.
But I’m leaving aware of the potential for trouble; I’m taking every medication I have with me and I try to stay positive. I keep reminding myself that if I can get through today, I can come home and just relax here in Paradise until Steve arrives on Monday.

Monday, July 29, 2019

One Week to Steve

Yesterday, I began the Sabbath by stealing more stones from next door. I’ll use them for edging around my incinerator area. Then I went on the large community dog walk before doing a massive watering job on the gardens. I’ll do another today because tomorrow I’m gone all day to Vancouver for more asthma tests.
Then I tackled the repair of my Pinecone Park sign and transplanted more plants. Slowly, I am getting every task done that I wanted to so this season.
Lucky, lucky, oh so lucky me. I found this clip on YouTube. It’s of Jordan Donica singing On the Street Where You Live.I think this is the finest stage singing I have ever heard, combined with exemplary acting. 
Mr. Donica is American, but listen to his British accent! Listen to his remarkable diction and look at the emotions in his face and body as he sings. He’s vocal perfection and he’s singing one of my favourite songs—one of the first songs I memorized and sang publicly and a song sung by a dear friend on the first national tour of My Fair Lady  in the USA. Reid was one of my first friends to die of AIDS.
It was bittersweet to hear this incredible young man, Mr. Donica, singing it so impossibly perfectly. As I listened to him I saw Reid (Shelton) on stage in my imagination.
Steve arrives here in a week. We parted very amicably in 1994, yet he and his family remain central to my life. Steve, his sister Lydia and his mother gave me the most extraordinary gift: They authentically welcomed me into their family. Martha, the materfamilias, signed all her letters to me with, “Mom.” 
All I ever felt from the Tyrells (the people who adopted me) was disfavor, so the warm welcome of the Schillings was overwhelming. Martha gave me a taste of what every person wants: Mother’s love. 
Steve and I talk every Monday—he lives in L.A.—so today will be exciting. After we talk, my only task for the day is to tidy up my studio and prepare it for him and Tim. They’ll be sleeping there and Lydia and her husband, David, will sleep in the house. (The other two people coming, Don and Fernando, are staying in a B&B.)
I haven’t been with Steve in person for two years, so this visit is something for which I’ve been longing since I moved here.