When It’s Good

Sometimes reading my blog is startling. I am happy now. At this moment, all is well, as Byron Katie so beautifully says. I honestly cannot remember the deep sadness I felt over the last couple months, or the despair felt by the one in me who wrote the previous entries.

She is many animals at once.

Pills. Desperation. Fear. It’s all such a blur, as if I’m trying to recall a movie I watched ages ago. I can remember the basic plot, but none of the details.

I read my blog, and recall, though my recollection is hazy. Ooo. Yes, that did happen. Eesh. I did feel that way. Oh, that poor girl who is me. Was me? Is me.

I remember, and shudder. Right now, I focus on the positive, on the present, and do my best to practice mindfulness when anxiety creeps in.

I relish the goodness of now, and try not to let my fear of future darkness creep in. I want to enjoy this time, to nestle deep into its simplicity and peace.

Two amazing things have happened recently. We took a family vacation to Virginia Beach, and I attended a Byron Katie workshop. VA was divine. Warm, humid, GREEN!! The beach was sublime, and our lovely motel was just across the street from the sea. DREAMY. Refreshing. I was afraid to return to Wyoming, so scared that depression would overtake me when I got home.

Our flight home, however, was horrendous. Delays, reroutes, missed flights, NEWARK. Total disaster. I had a meltdown, but managed not to swear at anyone, which is seriously (and sadly) an incredible step forward. My husband was the calm to my storm, and my rock solid hero. The miserable return trip made me SO glad to be home. Blessing in disguise, that.

A weekend later, I had the gift of sitting in the audience at a Byron Katie event. I teared up when she came out on the stage, and just loved watching and hearing her “do The Work” with hurting people. It felt amazing to sit with a group of 600 good people who NEEDED that workshop as much as I did. I felt so very among friends.

So, it’s been a good, good few weeks. I feel loved. Loving. And all is well, all is well, and all manner of things shall be well.

Don’t forget.

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I Am Mother

What was your mother like? she asked, with pad and expensive pen in hand.

Like any mother, maybe. Locked in the bathroom, in the tub crying. Taking litte blue pills when she thought I wasn’t looking.

Dad would come home and always pick the bathroom lock. Try to soothe her in his rough around the edges ways, sit on the floor at the edge of the tub until he could get her to crawl out, off balance and dripping wet and cold from the hours-old water.

Mostly what he did helped, but her cry eyes would swell for days, and she always tried to line them with wax pencil, thinking it hid her secrets behind what she called a smoky eye. She seemed to think a melancholy look was beautiful.

I thought sometimes she faked the crying in the bathroom thing for attention. But Dad said no, that if she didn’t hide in the bath, she’d have walked out into our Wyoming desert with the coyotes, lain down in the sagebrush, and we’d have never found her again.

I wondered why she didn’t just leave us if she was so unhappy. Go to California or something, someplace with sun and not so much snow and coal. But I knew in my heart she was too faithful and loving and afraid to know what real leaving was.

Dying, she could do, if she’d have loved us just a little less. But she loved us more than the sun, more than the God she wrestled with, more than the stones and bones and Bibles she kept in her special drawer, and mostly she loved us more than herself.

And that was maybe what saved us all.

Love Notes

Serenely grateful tonight for…

**11years of marriage with the love of my life
**antibiotics and Western medicine…for the times when the herbs and
oils just aren’t quite enough
**a cool, quiet bedroom
**a cold crescent moon visited by sublimely visible Venus and Mars
**an anniversary trip to Wendover
**friends who miss me