bittersweet

What a sweet, sweet day of best friends and excellent food, with that deep trickle of sorrow over the loss of my dad. How odd to feel it more this year than last. Well. Somehow this fall we are feeling more of everything (thank you Mercury retrograde, etc).

Where have these days gone, in what haze of sadness and frustration. Where is the old focus-warp-speed energy that got 100-letter mailings out in a single bound of an evening?

I found pictures from a year ago, when I arranged my "nook" downstairs, since I was evicted from my upstairs treehouse office. Seems like a lost year, and just now I'm waking up a wee bit cranky over needing my own production space.

Hmmm. Lisa keeps saying I need to go have "fun." Trouble is, there's no fun in me, none that I can find.

Percolating

Yes we are burbling along in the process. More like lava hotly belching out of some wrenching, earth-shitting groan. But we'll go for burbles. MH is in Michigan again, having survived a trip to Toronto to visit his mother. My daughter is doing the school-work-traumatic-breakup-with- psycho-boyfriend-thing.

I have the house to myself. I can walk into any room I want and still breathe. I can play "let's imagine" what the seminar business all grown up would be like. Let's imagine the treatment table spends most of its time folded up behind the piano. Let's imagine Two Full Classes a month 9 months out of the year, with One each in November and December (none in July. We don't work in July anymore). Let's imagine I'm earning a real living again. Let's imagine I grow enough of a business persona that every nutjob who emails me does not get under my skin. Let's imagine I don't spend any more time or energy avoiding those emails when I can just handle them like business information, nothing personal to them at all, and get them answered. Just sharing information!!

Let's get very big and real and imagine that I have a real personal assistant who takes care of these things for me. She might even answer the phone! She becomes my satellite brain and actually helps the business grow. Someday, she might even make my travel arrangements.

Let's imagine I can get my focus back, to ride this wave of prosperity and abundance that has ALWAYS carried me, and rip off the choke chain of disbelief that somehow got slipped over my head when I wasn't looking. And slap the hand of the one who put it there. Those are your belief restrictions, not mine.

Better Medicine

Distraction may be good, but a two-martini dinner out with husband and best girlfriend is even better. Coming home to an empty house with teenager away at a sleep-over party is even better than that.

So for tonight, we are getting back on track.

Turning It Around

Just how much energy does it take to crawl out of that hopeless, critical vortex? Just the same old second, the same choice over and over again, to come from that other place. To be in the space of "ok." To give space as intensely as I need space. We all need some breathing room to come back to some sort of equilibrium.

MH is clearing enough to see where I need a little help, a little nudge. Just like how you can't solve a problem at the level of the problem, he gave me a little tweak to move into another perspective (well, actually, he gave me my first iPod, because I can play it in the new car I just ordered, which is a whole other story) .

Funny how a little distraction helps.

The Stillness that Suffocates

So far November has been a worse sucking vortex than October. When your response to tragedy is increased rigidity, we can't ride it through and we can't climb out. Now we are in this stalemate, working hard to find some neutral place long enough to generate some energy there.

I'm just not feelin' it yet.

There are things to do and my mind wants to get a little more organized to try them, but I refuse to go upstairs to the treehouse (our office) and sit in mh's space. I never thought I'd feel the day where I wanted to get out of my own house to work.

Something has to change. I need my space back!

Hurricane Clean-Up

BAM the storm pounded us and uprooted all the familiar. What do you do when the familiar terrain of your psyche is ripped up-torn down-blasted into the next galaxy? While you are facing the huge new task of college-shopping for your only child, and she wants to go to the number one threatening place that is like a nuclear explosion for your spouse?

Whew, what a mess.

And when the spouses are both therapists, yee-uck, it's a projection-fest. Even as we vehemently deny it.

The storm after the storm; no maps for this place.