The Post With No Name

Cricket. Our cat.

She’s quite a character. Notice in the video I was painting a cat.

I’ve had a sore throat for days and I feel like someone ran me over, put the truck in reverse and did a doughnut over my flattened body. Could be an Epstein Barr flare, the virus that keeps on giving. I certainly don’t need the coronavirus on top of EBV.

The day before yesterday, Jase and I took our daily hike with Cricket and it felt like I had cinderblocks strapped to my limbs.

I don’t feel intense body pain, so thankful for that. I spoke to my ketamine doctor over the phone. She said since I did so well, they would like to maintain my results with a once a month infusion after the coronavirus blows over.

On top of being hormonal, feeling physically ill is triggering some depressed feelings. I’m not worried about anything, but it’s pulled my “corona routine” out from under me. I currently feel numb. Flatlined.

I know I need to honor the fact my body needs rest. I also know my sanity needs routine and some sort of plan. No one is going to make a suitable plan but me. I must stick to what I know, regardless of how dead I currently feel.

#1 Make a blog post, it’s been 3 days since my last

#2 Shower. I get points for the fact I’ve changed my underwear and put on fresh jammies. It’s now time for the pits, tits and ass rinse. My hair (it tickles my ass crack when I pee) truly needs some attention. There’s a dreadlock forming that will require a half gallon of conditioner.

#3 Meditate and journal. I know that I know that I know these practices are essential to my mental health.

#4 Paint some rocks. My new addiction. This I have been doing daily for the past week. It brings me calm. My 2 oldest boys are camping in the backcountry. They put their painted rocks outside their tents. Well, if that doesn’t put a lump in my throat, freakin kids making me cry. I made them similar rocks so there would be no fighting. They are 25 and 23 hahah 🙂

#5 Get outside. Even if I don’t have the energy to walk, fresh air is the best vitamin for me.

#6 Stick to proper meal times. It doesn’t matter if all I can stomach is crackers and tea. Keep a schedule Mare.

#7 Speak up when your mind starts looping. I am a skilled magician when it comes to the disappearing act, folding within myself and glazing over like a zombie. Last time I checked, Jase is a skilled listener and generous with hugs and affection. His exact words “Use me baby!”

#8 Take a nap.

You get the idea. Basic self care.

Why is it always the first to go when I feel like shit?

There Are No Experts

Photo by me

I came across a poem I wrote last January when I was in the throes of a deep depression.

I was suicidal for a good 3 months. The darkness was so thick it made everything black. Looking back at these words, I can see there was a distant hope that I couldn’t feel at the time:

“Peaceful corner ~ My fragility in an envelope of down.

Piano music ~ a remembrance that I live ~ a distant depth ~ I am not the blackness

I am every color ~ every emotion ~every language ~ humanness ~ Spirit connected

Depression is stillness ~ Stillness is beauty ~ stillness bears hope ~ rounding the corner ~ the fog will dissipate ~ a first breath ~ cells creeping from their coma ~ hang on Mare for nothing can last forever

I honestly don’t know what lifted it. I remember thinking “Who will take care of the cat if I kill myself?” Little 4 legged friend who found us just 2 months prior to the depression.

Cricket

I can remember being depressed as a teenager.

I remember downing an entire bottle of aspirin. I didn’t know how to ask for help.

Last winter I knew to ask for help. To share what I was going though. There were some who avoided me like a disease, others who shared their own experiences, and some who gave me blank stares.

Depression is real. Just because you aren’t feeling it at the present moment does not mean it itsn’t. Maybe you’re one of the few who’ve never felt it, I urge you to be compassionate and understanding.

I’ll leave you with a few lines from Gary Zukav’s “The Seat of the Soul” as I find these words both beautiful and wise:

Who among us is an expert on the human experience? We have only the gift of sharing perceptions that hopefully can help those on their journey. There is no such thing as an expert on the human experience. The human experience is an experience in movement and thought and form, and in some cases an experiment in movement and thought and form. The most that we can do is comment on the movement, the thought and the form, but those comments are of great value if they can help people to learn to move gracefully, to think clearly, to form – like artists- the matter of their lives.

Stop The Dizzying Direction Dilema

The many directions are dizzying.

Do this, do that, go here, don’t go there, try this not that………read this, listen to that………be mindful, eat well, exercise, work hard but don’t forget self care……..

Spinning in the circle of opinions and advice is nauseating business.

There are things we believe and truths that we know.

Truth comes from experience. No one can argue you out of your own experience. Your experience, that’s concrete.

Beliefs…..hmmmm now those are shape shifting little buggars.

For years I believed the medication highway was not for me. I believed in meditation, not medication. Oh how those beliefs are a shiftin!

I have tried more medications in the past 5 months than in all of my 44 years on this planet, and in 2 weeks I’m going to have Ketamine infusions.

Truth is: I’m miserable. My body is wracked with pain from head to toe. I feel like I’m dragging it though quick sand. Laying down is the only thing that provides a little relief. It hurts to move.

I’ve exercised, eaten healthy, consumed top of the line supplements, meditated, stretched, gotten rest, listened to and read spiritual text etc…for most of my adult years. I began searching for optimal health in body, mind and spirit in my early 20’s.

My truth tells me: SO FUCKING WHAT!?

Do I believe that those things are “good”? Am I still participating in these activities. Sure do and sure am but my truth tells me something different.

My truth tells me: YOU HAVE NO COTROL

I read this today: “Do not despair, then, because of limitations. It is your function to escape from them, but not to be with out them. If you would be heard by those who suffer, you must speak their language.

I’ve never taken the time to learn a foreign language but I’m being taught one against my will.

I suppose it’s time to let go and listen.

Stop Should~ing On Yourself and Others

What good is it when you find yourself in a precarious situation and exclaim “I SHOULD have done it differently!”

Why should on yourself like that?

All the shoulding in the world, will not, can not, change the fact that you did it the way you did it, and you are in the situation NOW.

What’s done is done.

Let us also put and end to shoulding on others.

“I think you SHOULD do it this way.”……………”You SHOULD have done what I suggested.”…………..”I told you so.” ……..”Why can’t you do it like me.”

The past is the past. It happened. No one can change the past.

There are Should have’s from the past, Should have’s for the future and Should be’s for the present moment.

Can we remove the shame of shoulding on ourselves and others?

We hold tightly to our shoulds.

Our parents, our exes, our friends, and children should have done it differently.

News flash: THEY CANT DO IT DIFFRENTLY.

No one on the face of this planet can go back and change the choices they’ve made, and we hold the power to give others the benefit of the doubt that they did the best with what they had, knew and felt at the time.

AND we hold the power to forgive ourselves. I here by excuse you from the shoulds you have weighing on your shoulders.

Poof! You’re a million pounds lighter.

~ Funny story about the above pictures. This past Thursday, I was backing down the drive and my truck slid into a pickle. It took us all day to get it out and ended up destroying the fence. The miracle is my front tire was an inch from the edge of the deck wall. My truck could have rolled over onto the deck and into the house. Miracles do happen and Jase never once told me what I “SHOULD” have done. ~

Follow The Sun

Somehow the light gets in.

We have dark spaces with in. No one, I repeat no one is alone in this.

I am thankful for the moments in life that have cultivated awareness and compassion.

Times that have knocked me off the “high horse” I’ve so arrogantly put myself on again and again. When I boast about all I “know”. When my mouth is a loud beacon beckoning others to see the world as I see it.

I’m thankful that the Universe keeps kicking my ass.

It was simply my ego’s attempt at trying to be special, to stand out among the rest.

There is no standing out.

There is equality. We are together. We are ONE with the Universe, dancing to the rhythm of life. Each of us hearing our own drummer. We were each given our own tune.

Put and end to dancing to someone else’s tune.

You’re unique rhythm is in your heart dear friend.

Here’s a favorite song of mine. I appreciate the lyrics:

When you feel life coming down on you,
Like a heavy weight
When you feel this crazy society,
Adding to the strain
Take a stroll to the nearest waters
And remember your place
Many moons have risen and fallen long, long before you came

So which way is the wind blowin’,
And what does your heart say?

All The Things I Didn’t Do Today

photo by me, as usual

I didn’t construct the bed I woke up in.

I took no part in sewing the pillows, sheets or blankets wrapped around my body.

Didn’t come up with the design for my jockeys, t-shirt or hair tie.

I did not design, glaze, cast, dry, spray, fire or test the toilet.

I peed.

I did not grow, cut, then grind a tree to create pulp. Nor did I mix pulp in water and chemicals and then bleach the pulp or remove the lignin.

I wiped.

I did not install the plumbing or dig the 300 foot well.

I flushed.

I’ll speed this up. You’ve got the point? There’s so much I didn’t do today. I didn’t grow, pick or grind the coffee beans. I didn’t manufacture the coffee pot, the fridge, the counter tops or sinks. I didn’t put together my truck, or pave the roads.

In fact, I did not participate in the creation of the many objects and materials that served me today.

What I did do, is mindlessly use all of these things without an ounce of gratitude. I was busy feeling anxious and overwhelmed by life. By not feeling like “myself”. By mere survival. By wishing my life were different.

The reality of this grabbed me by the heart.

For years I’ve read about “mindfulness”. I’ve listened to podcasts on how to achieve it. Spent hours meditating.

A scavenger sniffing out morsels to consume, in the hopes they would change me. A caterpillar munching away, getting fat on information to wrap myself in a cocoon, hoping for metamorphosis.

I became a robot forcing myself to think or say “I’m pouring the coffee.” or “I’m wiping my ass.”

Nothing felt authentic. Just failed attempts at “fixing” another fault of mine. I’ve spent my life feeling as if my existence is a mess to be cleaned up.

I’ve let go of trying to get it.

It’s beginning to sink in and I had nothing to do with it.

When truth works it’s way into a pliable heart, you feel the changes on a cellular level. At least I do. I can’t speak for you.

Mom, You Could Have Said Your Son Has A Vagina

My son Archie is comfortable with the fact that he’s rockin a vagina.

I told Archie about a conversation I recently had with a stranger. She made a comment that teens will blame their parents for their problems and hate them etc…etc….

My response was, “I have 4 boys, and am pretty close to all of them.”

That spurred her on to rant about how it’s only because I have boys I’m close to them and they have to individuate. If my children were all girls they’d dislike me, so on and so forth.

Archie’s response, “Mom, you should have fucked with her head and told her one of your sons has a vagina.”

There’s a million and one reasons to love Archie. He’s a trans man fully comfortable in his own skin. Embracing the journey as testosterone deepens his voice, thins his hair, and catapults him simultaneously through menopause and puberty. Gone are the days of wearing a binder to flatten his breasts. The grace with which he evolves humbles me.

He’s the bravest fucking person I know.

How did I get the privilege of being his mom? I swear he popped out of my vag wise beyond his years. I feel like I barely had to parent him. He came with inherent goodness oozing out of his soul.

No, I am not biased because I’m his mother.

I remember meeting his 5th grade teacher for the first time. In tears I told her “this child is special. I know every mother believes this, but this one, this one is truly special.”

A few months later I received an email telling me how incredibly off the charts this kid was.

In 3rd grade he said “Mom, I want to the play the oboe”

Me on the inside “Holy fuck, what’s an oboe.” ………..on the outside “sure, you can play the oboe.”

I’ve now been to Carnegie Hall twice to see the kid play. Seriously.

He plays other instruments and sings. This is one of my favorites. His voice is even deeper now

He’s in school for music therapy. Yes, to help people. You see this kid has ginormous amounts of anxiety and depression. Does that stop him, no. He makes all his own therapy appointments and takes the medication bull by the horns.

In fact I didn’t know what anxiety was. He is the one who came to me one day after he sought treatment for his and said “Mom, I figured all these years you just chose to live with your anxiety untreated.”

Talk about feeling like a fuck up as a parent.

The top photo was taken yesterday before his flight back out. I knew the hike and then the drive to the airport would land me in bed today, but it was well worth it.

What could be better than laying in bed, drinking a milk stout, blogging about one of your kids while Jase entertains the rest of the brood at the climbing gym?

Sure my muscles and joints feel like they’re fresh off the grill, I’m slurring my speech from exhaustion and thoughts feel furry like my teeth after too much sugar, but you do what you can.

I’m thankful for the distraction of blogging and that Archie’s comfortable with his vagina.