Enter at your own risk...

Somehow I pulled myself away from making colorful dishcloths long enough to run some crochet thread through my fingers and start dreaming of making doilies or something filet crochet.  The earlier spell was broken, only to be replaced by another.  Even though I love it, I don't fully understand the draw of thread crochet, but it seems to coincide with the temperatures rising and it being too warm to sit and crochet a heavy blanket (which I have waiting in a basket to be finished).  Pulling out some pretty colors of crochet thread, I began looking through patterns and finally decided on making at least one spring-colored doily.  

It's nearly finished, so I imagine I'll have it (and possibly others) blocked and ready to show by next week.

The weather here is all over the place, and so it seems is my focus and attention.  Eighty degree days last week, and now we have a nice little stretch of cooler weather.  There's even a chance of a freeze tonight, Greg just told me.  A couple of weeks ago I planted some cool-weather vegetable seeds in the garden, but I suspect it's going to warm up to the point here quickly where those may not do so well.  A week ago, I planted some tomato and pepper seeds directly into the ground as an experiment.  Normally I would shop for these plants to transplant into my garden, but if I'm in no hurry, I don't see why tomatoes and peppers shouldn't grow from seed and produce before the end of summer.  We'll see.  If things don't look promising soon, I can always buy some small plants come May...

On yet another end of things, I've gotten myself into the predicament that too many crafty ideas are calling me.  It starts out as pleasurably thinking about such things until I realize I have a nagging list of things I want to do.  Crochet, knitting, sewing, quilting, embroidery, paper crafts...

I don't know when I thought I'd ever get around to the 30-Day Sketchbook Project (book) I gave myself for Christmas!

It doesn't help that the rest of the garden is calling, and I have visions of summer squash and green beans dancing in my head.  And weeds are proliferating everywhere.  And strawberries will surely be producing within a few weeks. Though, if it frosts tonight, the strawberry blossoms may get toasted.  That doesn't feel like an entirely bad thing right now.

And then there are things literally piling up.  In the office I'm sitting in, stacks of various themes are nagging me to deal with them.

And I'm remembering right at this moment I need to get my hair cut...

Sigh.

This will pass, I know.  I need to take one thing at a time, and it will all eventually get done.  Or not.  And if not, there'll be another season to tackle what doesn't get done.

Except, I really should get my hair cut.

And, by the way... I turned a year older on Saturday.  That could also have something to do with feeling tugged in too many directions.  It was a good, slow day spent with family.  We celebrated three different April birthdays.  Oldest son's (37) mine (67), and Hub's (72).  We enjoyed lunch at a Peruvian sandwich spot, then back to two sons' apartment where we opened gifts, and learned a new game (which was one of my gifts).

And today I woke up feeling like the year is speeding by again. I want to slow things down so badly.  Then as I'm driving to church, Greg, having left earlier, sends me a text that our dear elderly friend, Jack, had spent yesterday in the hospital, and would I be able to go and keep him company for a few hours? Of course!  

Turning the car around, I went back home first to get some food items to possibly coax Jack to eat something. He has not been eating much at all lately - even before this.

At Jack's house, I put the food items in the fridge and we sat and talked for a bit.  It probably helped that I could say I hadn't eaten when I asked if he was hungry, and would he like some food. I was happily surprised he said yes.  Minutes later we were eating ham and eggs, and then a jello and yogurt "treat" I'd made a couple of days ago - I think Jack ate more food in that one sitting than he's eaten most days in months.  

Precious time spent with Jack, who's 95, soon to be 96, helps to put everything in perspective.  Having just had a birthday, I don't imagine I'll make to 90, let alone 95.  Our days on earth are short. Our relationships precious.  And I enjoy slow, solitary hobbies. Meshing all of that can make for desperate feelings sometimes of getting everything in that I love.

Oddly, I think that's one of the benefits of crochet and knitting (actually all my hobbies).  When I'm doing them, these handcrafts cause me to just sit and do a thing that can only be done so fast.  Thread crochet is particularly slow, and I think it helps somehow to settle my sense of desperation of time whizzing by.  Even though I'm aware of time disappearing as I'm doing something fairly frivolous. 

And on it goes.  

Do you get into these uncomfortable states of mind - where the busy and good needs of life conflict with the pull of slowly creating things?  They feel like polar opposite values to me, and yet, they are both very much part of who I am.

Are you sorry you popped in here today to be taken on the merry-go-round that is my mind at the moment?

Internet woes...

We've had internet woes recently and I haven't been able to use my PC to get online regularly for several months.  The kicker was most recently being without internet for an entire week (just getting back online yesterday).  And that was after being off the internet for multiple days at a time the previous two months at least.  Note: before anyone advise that we ask for reimbursement or credit for lost service, I already have.  Over the course of multiple weeks and calls with overseas "agents", we accumulated a credit of a full month on our last internet bill, and still have credit on a future bill.

From the beginning of our personal internet experience, we've gotten our internet access through our phone lines.  It wasn't bad at all at the beginning, but once fiber optic service became available, our phone-line-internet-service began to deteriorate.  To the point, where we now feel like we've just been written off by Brightspeed (has been Embarq, has been Century Link) as relics of a bygone era that will eventually go the way of every other dinosaur.

Forced into the modern age, we watched curiously in recent weeks as fiber optic cables to our country neighborhood were being laid. The big utility trucks that for weeks narrowed every county road we traveled have moved on - taking their Ditch Witch drillers with them.  For at least a week, maybe two now, the busyness has been replaced with silence - as if all that activity had never happened.  Phone calls have netted no information about when internet service will be available through the shiny new underground cables.

Meanwhile, we're on two different waiting lists to get broadband through radio signal when the capacity is available for that.  The radio signal appears at the moment to be our preference.  Hopefully soon we'll get out of this frustrating spot we're in, as every day we have internet through our phone line feels precarious at best.  While this post is a bit of a rant, mostly, while I have internet service and the ability to easily write and publish a post, I'm wanting to let my readers know why I've been sporadic and downright absent so much here (and on your blogs) lately.  

Hopefully today my internet access will hold long enough for me to create a YOP update (which is actually my YOP Roundup post that is now a week late) and pre-publish it so it makes it out tomorrow - even if my internet is down.  If you see a Year of Projects post on Sunday, and I don't respond to comments, you can take a good guess at why.

And if you see me online here and there, your surprise will only be eclipsed by mine. Internet access has begun to feel like a priceless commodity.  Using it with little thought, feels frivolously careless.  

I marvel now how easy and like a game it felt to do a digital fast this past spring. You'd think that would have made me immensely patient when ours has gone out for days at a time. Aside from the frustration of not receiving a service we pay for - with a reasonable expectation that that service will be available - I am utterly dismayed at how much our lives are dependent on having internet access.  Bank records, medical records and communciations, calendars, news, information, inspiration...  

Everything is available on the internet, and when it is suddenly unavailable, I find myself at loose ends and feel unsettled.  And the moment I see that it is restored again, I feel a peace.

This is not right.  It's definitely not good. 

It just is.  

And I don't like the realization one bit.

Feeling better...

I want to say Thank You to all who left kind and helpful comments on my last post.  First, let me say... it is immensely helpful to hear of others' experiences.  At a minimum, it is validating, but there were some truly helpful things offered up.  I have such kind and thoughtful commenters.

While it is surely clear to anyone visiting my blog on a regular basis, that I'm no stranger to overthinking, I've come to realize that what I've been recently experiencing wasn't/isn't that.  Or isn't simply that.  I'm pleased to say that I am feeling better for longer stretches of time over the last week, and I think that is true for several reasons. 

First of all, I have some really great people in my life.  People who evidently do, sometimes, ask me how I'm doing.  One friend spontaneously did just that days after I published last week's post.  

The two of us were leaving an event, and the encounter wasn't long.  But it was private-ish and allowed for a bit of a conversation.  While I didn't elaborate to her all the various unsettling memories I had been dealing with, the one thing I did share received a response that was so validating, it was almost instantly healing.  My friend's response was like fresh air and light on a recently reopened wound that I had been trying (unsuccessfully) to just "get over".  

She didn't rationalize away the situation in which the wound was inflicted.  She also didn't demonize the one whose words had cut me to the quick.  All she did was see the wound for what it was and entered into my hurt for a few moments.  And she gave me a hug.  

To be clear, I know the wound hadn't been intentional.  I'm sure the one who inflicted it has no idea the damage that was done in her few words that took all of 5 seconds to say.  I'm pretty sure, if I were to write out the situation here, most people wouldn't give the exchange a second thought. In fact, I'm not sure if I hadn't been in the fragile state I was at the time (going into surgery to remove my infected port), that I would even appreciate how careless were the words that were spoken - in this case by a doctor.  It wasn't until I had permission to see my wound as valid and without trying to rationalize it away, that the shackles around that particular memory started to crumble and fall away.  And amazingly, my painful thoughts surrounding other more justifiably haunting experiences have eased - almost completely it seems.  At least for the moment.  I think, perhaps, I just needed the freedom to see my haunts without justifying/excusing why they happened in the first place.  

This experience has led me to the following thoughts - most of which I've added after publication, unfortunately, but here goes...

I'm sure this isn't the first time I've experienced this kind of healing of my emotions, but it was so profound this time, I hope I am forever changed by it.  While I think I've understood the importance of validating others' thoughts and feelings (I wrote about it in my last post), I am also prone (as many of us are, I have learned) to want to help the other person see the various sides of a situation.  I think what we're trying to do is help the hurting person's rational brain see that they don't have to suffer all the bad feelings and thoughts they may be caught up in.  

Being on the receiving end of that kind of "help", though, a few times over the last year, I now understand just how unhelpful rationalizing and advice-giving responses usually are.  And, here's why I've come to that conclusion...  

I suspect that many of us attempt to rationalize away our painful experiences. I have no idea if it's actually rational to rationalize this stuff, but for me, it's often a first-line coping mechanism.  When it happens naturally, I don't know that it's an unhealthy thing to do.  But most good things, when taken to an extreme can become very unhealthy.  A, perhaps overly simple, example:  Overlooking an offense is good, but being a doormat leads to an unhealthy mental state, and possibly abuse.

If it is a natural inclination to rationalize our painful experiences, we certainly don't need someone else to offer the same (or other) rationalizations to our already cluttered and pained minds.  

I don't know about you, but when someone does that in response to something difficult I've shared, I immediately wish I hadn't made myself vulnerable. And I learn, going forward, to be guarded.  Of course, we should be careful who we share vulnerable things with, but if we are so guarded that we ultimately decide it's safer to stuff our feelings down, instead of finding appropriate ways of airing them, the results can be unhealthy.  Toxic, even.  We may never really heal if we don't examine our painful emotions and what has brought them about.

The more helpful response we can offer to someone stuck in painful thinking, I now believe, is something that might break an unhealthy rationalizing pattern or loop a hurting person may be stuck in.  

While someone stuck in painful thinking might need professional help to truly become healthy-minded, when we're in the position of someone having shared a painful experience with us, a likely helpful first-line response is to simply validate their feelings.  Saying a sincere, "I'm sorry that happened" would probably suffice.  Enter into the pain, if I can, or just simply acknowledge it, rather than try to reshape their perception of the experience.  Entering into a person's pain most likely will make them feel better, at least in the moment.  When they feel better, they'll probably be able to think better, and will be in a better position to eventually (or maybe instantly) see the experience that caused the wound with a clearer head.  For me, clarity almost always helps my emotions heal.  

Disclaimer:  I am not a psychologist.  Not even a good armchair one.  But I am interested in learning from experience, and really do want to offer the right kind of help when someone else is struggling.  This present experience has helped me internalize, and I think see something I didn't understand before.

The only significant things that have happened in the 9 days since my last post is the above encounter, a lovely visit with another dear friend, and I've had the last appointment in my recent string of medical appointments - which seemed to be the catalyst for my recent struggling.  I feel better just having all those appointments behind me as of last Thursday.  I should add, it was also helpful when I shared that I'd been having troubling thoughts over the last few months, my oncology nurse navigator told me that was very normal.  I was pretty sure that, as dysregulated as my thinking was, I was in the range of normal, but it was helpful to hear someone with experience in this realm to tell me so.

I've also come across some things online that remind me that I have tools (mainly writing) to use to examine, dissect and treat the other painful thoughts should they rise up again to haunt me.  Just being reminded I have these tools available, and that they have been helpful to me in the past, has given me an even greater sense of well being.

If you got this far, you're the best!  Thanks for sticking with me.  

Still here...

I haven't gone anywhere.  

In fact, I wrote this post a few days ago and I've been considering whether I want to actually publish it.  I've finally decided to do it, and hope some good can come from it.  

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post titled "Ruminations and Risk Taking".  At the time my use of the word "ruminations" was simply to mean contemplations - of any sort.  At the time I wrote that, I was enjoying being outdoors, soaking in the sun, and listening to birdsong, just contemplating life, and being thankful that I was rebuilding my strength, and getting on with life.  There was some heavy stuff on my mind, but my feeling then was that all was mostly well.  And it was.  And still is, for that matter.  But recently, I've come to realize that there has been a fair amount of negative ruminating going on, too. 

In recent weeks, my brain has been revisiting stuff I'd rather not think about (explanation as to why, in a minute), but it wasn't until the third or fourth time over the last few weeks that I heard myself monologuing to my husband for 10-15 minutes at a time, reviewing (ruminating out loud about) stuff from last year - some things he already knew, some things I had never told him - I realized that I am dealing with a load of unresolved stuff that happened during the diagnostic stage of my cancer experience.  Yes, I know that was an insane run-on sentence, but I'm leaving it as is.  Welcome to my brain right now.

Last week, when I once again heard myself telling my husband something awful from last year, I stopped myself mid-sentence wondering, "Why am I doing this again?!?"  And as soon as I asked the question, I knew the answer!

Since mid-May, I've begun a series of follow-up appointments with doctors.  I had my second appointment with the endocrinologist (who works out of a different cancer center than I visited last year) to discuss results of tests she had me do.   A few days later I had my first six-month follow-up with my oncologist to discuss the ongoing endocrine therapy he has me on.  Earlier this week, I had a follow-up MRI (unrelated to breast cancer, and that came back clean - yay!)  Next week I have my annual follow-up visit with the surgeon who removed my cancer.  And, I guess, just because I was on a roll making medical appointments, I had scheduled my "Welcome to Medicare" appointment with my GP for last week.  Whew!  

All these appointments have been as good as they can be (and I anticipate next week's follow-up with my surgeon will go fine enough), but being pulled back into the world of cancer treatment, and walking back into two different cancer centers several times now in two months has caused me to revisit the trauma that happened during all the diagnostic tests a year ago.  

With a few unpleasant exceptions, most of the staff I encountered last year were the nicest and kindest medical people I've ever been treated by.  At the same time, the tests they ran me through were among the worst things I've ever experienced to date.  Truly - the stuff of nightmares. In recent weeks, I was only able to sleep for four or five hours a night.  Sometimes, not able to fall asleep until the sun came back up.  Weirdly, I was functioning fine (in spite of little sleep and a brain on overload), but there was (and maybe still is to some extent) a cloud following me around for weeks now.  And I finally called it out.  I think it's just plain old unresolved trauma. 

I'm not sure where I go with these thoughts from here - I'm pretty sure I'll figure it out, or time will resolve it, or I will find help if I need to.  But for now, somehow, calling out what's been going on with me helps me feel better.  I'm happy to say I've been sleeping somewhat better.  

And while I'm sparing you the details of the things that try to trouble me, I hope my sharing this much is helpful to someone possible going through their own "ruminating" over hard things that don't seem to have any resolution.  

As for myself, I'm sure there's value in just getting this off my chest. To give air and light to unwelcome thoughts and make them less powerful.  And to document this experience for myself.

Maybe you know someone who has experienced some sort of trauma or difficulty in the recent past, and while they look just fine on the outside - in fact, they may be very fine, life might be great - they also may have dark, troubling thoughts from time to time.  While no one wants that kind of thing to go on forever, I'm pretty sure it's normal to experience this kind of thing after any sort of trauma.

If you, personally, know someone in such shoes, don't be afraid to ask them how they're doing.  They probably won't be expecting it, and they may not know what to say.  But they will appreciate that you asked.  

And if they talk...

Just listen.  

Validate them - listening without giving advice is priceless

Appreciate their vulnerability. 

It may just mean the world to them.

And if they don't want to open up, that's okay too.  Or maybe they're feeling on top of the world at that moment - they'll tell you if they are.  Celebrate with them.

It will mean a great deal that you asked.

Spirea in bloom in May.

Ruminations and risk taking...

Planting vegetables in the garden and harvesting fruit this spring has brought out the contemplative me.  I suspect that just being outside for hours, working the soil, planting seeds and transplants, all the while hearing little else but bird song, makes everyone contemplative - which is reason enough to garden if you ask me, if one can do it.  If one wants to.  

I remember the previous two springs (after we moved to this property) providing similar contemplative opportunities, but for different reasons.   

Two springs ago, I planted most of a garden unencumbered by the knowledge I'd spend the entire Memorial weekend nauseous and in some serious discomfort.  After three days and nights of that, I finally conceded defeat and asked Greg to take me to the ER, which resulted in an emergency gall bladder surgery the next morning.  That surgery (and recovery) was a bit more involved than anyone expected it to be, but within a couple of weeks I was feeling good enough to finish planting the garden.  As I held my mid section, bending over to put seeds in the ground, even I questioned if that was the smartest thing to be doing.  But the desire to plant our first vegetable garden at our new home was compelling. 

Last spring was different.  In late April and May, I knew some of what loomed ahead, and I needed something to distract me from worrying about what was still unknown.  With the optimism of an early caught cancer diagnosis, I threw myself into activities that left me physically spent most nights.  In May, Greg and I worked together on cleaning up some landscaping that was still lingering from the summer before.  Youngest son lent a hand on that Memorial weekend helping us finish up the job..  After all that work, I decided I wanted to till the garden, enlarging the space by a foot or so on three sides.  

I planted a few vegetables, but mostly I planted the garden with flower seeds.  While I didn't know everything that was ahead, I anticipated that I'd not likely be capable of lifting a heavy canner come August to preserve tomatoes or pickles or green beans.  But tending flowers seemed like a lovely thing to do as I healed from surgery.

With the flower garden put in, in the early weeks of June, we ate, gave away and froze lots of strawberries.  I think I might have picked the last of the strawberries the day before my surgery.  The night before surgery, I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up and sewed a pillow to protect my chest during the weeks of healing when I had to ride in a car and use a seatbelt.  Why I waited until the night before surgery to make it, I haven't a clue - except that I can be a world-class procrastinator at times. 

Having all these things to do was a gift. And having that pillow served me well for the rest of the summer as my chest healed.  

Headed home the day after surgery. 

My smile, I'm sure, can be attributed to still enjoying the benefits of a pain block.

While in the spring of 2023 I was wise enough to know I wouldn't be up to picking and preserving vegetables come late summer, I did imagine myself visiting the garden that summer and cutting fresh flowers.  I envisioned bestowing bouquets on anybody who might need encouragement that year.  It seemed like an antidote of sorts to facing my own scary stuff.  Funny how things turn out sometimes.  Nothing of any consequence ended up growing in the garden last summer. Not one single flower. But I was blessed weekly with fresh flowers from friends and family.  The whole experience has inspired me to plant flowers again, but this time there will hopefully be an abundance of veggies to pick in July and August, too. 

In all the outside work this spring, the thing that has been on my mind most is my recent diagnosis of osteoporosis of the spine.

Since last November, I have educated myself on the topic - to the point of annoying at least few people, I'm sure.  And this month I met for the second time with an endocrinologist and my oncologist, and have been making some changes that will, hopefully, minimize further bone loss.  We'll see this coming November when I get second DEXA scan.  Am I worried about what the results of that scan will be?  Yes. A bit.  Am I trying to live like I'm not worried about it?  Yes, because in addition to being an incredible procrastinator, I'm am also world-class compartmentalizer. 

But I'm not living in denial.  While I try to discipline myself to focus more on safe (and frankly, healthy) postures, I also try not to worry that some of the positions a gardener naturally gets into are not recommended for persons who have osteoporosis.  All my medical peeps were pleased to hear I'm enjoying gardening this spring, but interestingly, no one talked about being careful doing it.  Can I just say again how seriously thankful I am for the internet and all the resources available to us today.

A year ago, I was pleased (no, I was actually pretty proud) that I could still bend forward and touch my toes with little effort.  I still can, but my pride is all but shriveled up now knowing that this is not a recommended thing to do if one has osteoporosis in the spine.  This spring, as I've bent over to pick strawberries (which is the most comfortable position for me), I consider over and over again the gamble I am taking rounding my back for that task.  At this point, the last of the strawberries have been picked, and I've managed to not hurt myself, so I have another year at least before I need to think about that specific task again.  

Coming through all that last year held, I've come to recognize that all of life is a gamble.  On some level we all know our choices come with risks, but most of us don't count the costs of the risks we take on a daily basis.  We give little thought to the potential bad outcomes of our choices.  We go happily through our days with no worries or even thoughts about what is going on inside our cells, our bones, our vital organs.  As long as one can live that way, I consider it gloriously good to embrace it.  Even being more aware of the gambles I take, I consider it good to live life as free as possible from worry about all the "what ifs". 

While I now live with a greater awareness of the gambles I regularly take (in this context, the positions I get myself into), I try to not let that awareness worry me into being a scaredy cat.  

At the moment, I feel like I'm living in a middle land -  where the brain understands and sort of counts the costs, but the heart or the will hasn't quite figured out what do with the information that fires in my brain with every wrong move. Retraining myself into new postures for doing old activities, I think must involve a fair amount of synaptic activity before new ways of doing things become second nature. 

This is what's in my head this week.  Some loosely connected thoughts about osteoporosis, being relieved the strawberry picking has come to an end, glad the garden is in, and that I have a bit of a reprieve before anything else needs harvesting.

That reminds me... we have peaches this year!  I thinned them out a couple of weeks ago, and now they look like they'll be manageable - if they make it to ripeness without becoming bird or bug fodder.  

If they come a month early like the cherries did, I may be picking peaches in June, but I'm seriously hoping they wait 'till July.  While physically, I could do it, my brain is begging to recover from picking and processing strawberries and cherries at the same time this spring.

Until the peaches ripen, and the vegetable garden needs more attention, I'm contemplating what's next.  I'm assessing my need for more canning jars and lids, will soon go to work again on hopefully perfecting low or no-sugar jam, and I'm contemplating sewing some tops I recently bought fabric for.  

But first, this evening we have friends coming over with Chinese takeout.  I've been too pooped the last month to think about being hospitable, so tonight feels like a nice change of pace.  With the calendar turning to June tomorrow, it feels like a new beginning.

I love new beginnings...

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, 

this person is a new creation;

 the old things passed away; 

behold new things have come.

   - 2 Corinthians 5:17  (NASB)