Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Photo of My (Birth) Father

I find it incredible to be able to post the photo above of my birth father, Douglas Haig Gordon. I never thought I’d know who he was or anything about him. My journey is just beginning.

Our walk yesterday morning was short. I wanted to get busy with the wood. I did five wheelbarrows full and then I took a ten-to-fifteen-minute break before going back to do six more. At that point, I could clearly see the light at the end of the wooden tunnel. So, with eleven barrows full done at 11:00, I had lunch did five more and then went to the post office, got some pet supplies and a few more Primulas. At every break, I checked my email to see if I had heard back from Brenda, my half-brother’s wife to whom I wrote asking to engage.

When I got home from the village, I was time for five more loads and that ended the project for this year. All six cords are stacked! I am overjoyed and relieved. I didn’t clean up the tarps or put them away. I left one load of wood—the tiny scrap pieces I stack separately and use as fire starter—to do tomorrow. I was in no rush and am reading a great, great book.

Good friend, Paula, called and proposed a visit. I was thrilled—for about a minute. I wound up calling her to beg off until we’re vaccinated. To take risks now seems stupid—more prudent to visit in a couple of months when I’ll likely have an estimated ninety percent immunity. I’ll be glad, come that time and feeling safe to modestly mingle—particularly with other prudents.

I’ve a session coming up with Dr. Shoja. I’ve decided it will be my last for this series of sessions. I feel much better now than I did when I sought her out. My communities of fellows, both the stuttering community and the community of people with my kind of seizure disorder, she has guided me through shock, recovery and adjustment to find these kinships, and with them came a major and positive force to help me optimize my mental health. I plan to leave with assurance of being welcome back in the future. It’s a promise she’s made every time we’ve taken a hiatus. 

I’m taking a break because I am now living outdoors far more than indoors. I’ve always said that I endure the cold and wet to thrive in the warmer, brighter, longer days of the year. I feel reverential about Summer and the state of mind that comes with it. One benefit of living with anxiety so acute you have seizures as a response to almost any stimulus that’s too anything—too loud, too sudden, to scary, too sad, etc., is that I live with a high body temperature. Now, I can enjoy Winter.

Doing the many, many chores supporting the grace of Pinecone Park, brings me joy at this stage of my life. I’ve learned to work at an apt pace and accept the confines of by budget, I love my pretty life. I rarely have seizures alone at home. I nearly always seize at least once when I have company. (The topic of next week’s session with Dr. Shoja. Last week she bookmarked a discussion on strategies for human relations. I raised the topic, asking her about the painful conflict of having seizures in response to those whom I love and trust. Her response made me think she may have something to offer or tell me.) 

I also hope/think that the Gordon family journey I’m on, will give me an alternate history to ponder—one to replace the one that has hurt to recall for too long.

Today’s tasks are minor: I’ve to clean the tarps involved with the wood drops and put them away until next year. And I’ll prune all the little loveleys in herb garden, because the sky is clear and bright. It’s going to be a great day! The herbs and fruit plants of the edible garden are having their first season since being replanted into fertile soil last year. The edible garden has become a favourite place; it’s practical and it’s becoming beautiful as it matures, and more lush.

No reply as yet from the wife of my half-brother. Sigh.

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