A Case of the Guilts

“I’ve got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts – you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn’t do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.” 

D.D. Barant, Dying Bites

Yesterday was a day full of reality checks.

My first check point was at the vet’s office. Oh, this has not been a good place for me this year. Yesterday it was time for Bud to have his annual rabies vaccine plus I wanted him to have a basic check up. In a few months he will be fourteen years old. Holy Cow, in small dog years he’s eighty some years old.

With that thought firmly ingrained in my mind, I thought I was prepared to hear anything the vet told us. I was not really ready to hear he had a significant heart murmur. All my years in imaging and doing echocardiograms flew into action in an attempt to put up some huge wall in order to defend my dog and my own ultra sensitive dog loving heart. I had to let my past go in order to hear the cautions voiced by Dr. Lauren. As I listened, I filed all my worries away, a pseudo coping method I’d devised over the years so I could randomly pull each and every one out later. Until lately, I thought this was one of my best stress management skills. With all the negatives stashed away, I went on about my day.

The next check point was my dentist. I’d been dreading this trip for a very long time. As it turned out–surprise–my anxiety was wasted. Every part of my visit went well. The reality was paying out of pocket for dental care. Because dental care is so important to overall health maintenance, I don’t understand why there isn’t affordable care for all–a subject that warrants its own story time.

Early this morning all those concerns and worries I’d stashed away resurfaced and wanted my full attention. They had all jumped out of their little file folders and wanted immediate attention.

The neon sticker was flashing on the Bud folder.

My little 18 pound dog who’d been such an important part of my life for nearly fourteen years was aging faster than I’d appreciated. I’d taken his companionship for granted. The sand in the giant Wizard of Oz hourglass was running fast and running low.

My Bud teaches me every single day what matters most is simply showing up and being beside those you love. No matter where the day takes you, be there, in that moment, share your toys after an appropriate amount of time, be persistent in asking for what you want, especially those treats, and, most of all, at the end of the day,  cuddle up as close as you can.

Thanks, my Bud. I love you.

Yes, that awareness work I’ve been doing? I think God just did a test of my emergency alert system.

I believe He’s telling me I have some work to do.

“People say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone…truth is, you knew what you had, you just thought you’d never lose it.” 

Nitya Prakash

I am…

B…simply being. 

~Peace~

 

 

 

 

 

 

It Was a Day For Me

“If you celebrate your differentness, the world will, too. It believes exactly what you tell it—through the words you use to describe yourself, the actions you take to care for yourself, and the choices you make to express yourself. Tell the world you are one-of-a-kind creation who came here to experience wonder and spread joy. Expect to be accommodated.”
― Victoria Moran, Lit From Within: Tending Your Soul For Lifelong Beauty

Today became an unplanned self-care day.

It was so good and I am so thankful.

Of course, now I’m having a tad bit of a guilt attack for not getting much crossed off my to-do list. Not to worry–I found this great quote as a way to prepare for my day tomorrow.

“You get up in the morning; it’s the start of yet another day in your daily life. However, if you want to make it interesting, exciting, extract the best out of it and make those 24 hours go a long way then make-believe that it’s your last day! Make every minute, every second, nay, every heartbeat count. Do things you’ve hesitated doing before. Go on, apologize to that dear friend with whom you haven’t spoken for quite some time now. Express your true feelings to your sweetheart. Give a hug to your children or grandchildren and tell them how much you love them. Wear that beautiful dress you’ve been saving for an occasion. Eat from your best crockery, drink from those crystal glasses that you’ve been maintaining for some grand party. What’s more precious than your own life? YOU are THAT important person you’ve been waiting for so long. Throw yourself a party, pamper your own self, tickle those taste buds and have a blast.

We keep waiting for that right occasion to take out that pretty dress, little realizing that we may not fit into it after some time. We keep maintaining those crystal and bone china ware little realizing that they can break. Use them often; use them for and on your own self because the most important person is YOU.”
― Latika Teotia

I am…

B…simply being…

Get out there and spread wonder and experience joy.

~Peace~

 

 

 

Memories of Memorial Day

Memorial Day has never been one of my favorite holidays. The reasons go back to my childhood. I grew up in Iowa in the 50’s and 60’s–a time when the excitement over the Indianapolis 500 was surpassed only by the almost assured fact that there would be at least one serious injury to the drivers involved, if not a fatality. This race was the only race I remember my Dad listening to. I was an anxious kid about most things. Putting this race on the radio for what seemed like HOURS was a guarantee I would not have one finger nail left by the time the checkered flag flew.

When I was about seven or eight years old, Memorial Day activities changed. Our family suffered a loss that was very hard for my parents and, I believe, on their marriage. My mom had a very difficult pregnancy, one that sent her to specialists who were not successful in helping her preclude pre-term labor. Her prayers for a baby boy were answered; our prayers for his survival were not. We had one more Memorial Day together as a family, traveling to Waterloo, Iowa, to a cemetery not far from the hospital where Richard Dean Burton lived his short life and died. We did not linger there, I’m not sure my mom even got out of the car. One of us put a small bouquet of flowers on his yet unmarked grave. The short 50 mile journey did not take long. What made it seem long was the static on the radio as it played the sounds of the crowd and the racing engines of the Indy 500.

Shortly after that Memorial Day, my mom was diagnosed with a type of lymphoma. She fought hard but was not able to defeat the disease. Our family and our observation of Memorial Day changed forever. The family going to the cemetery was now smaller, sadder, seriously silent, lost in our own thoughts as the radio played the chatter of yet another Indianapolis 500.

Visiting the cemetery, even though it became one of the most constant traditions of our family, is not one I continue today. I moved from Iowa which gave me an honest excuse. It did not take away the guilt I felt for not going. To give myself some peace, I created a garden as a remembrance of my family members who have died. My garden is named the Donna Bethie Garden in honor of my cousin, Donna, and my sister, Beth. This past week, as pictured in this blog, I was able to get a great start on my garden here at our new home in Texas. I am thankful for the rain that has given it a boost and even more grateful that none of the rain storms came with hail.

And NO Indianapolis 500 coverage at all.

I wish you all a safe and memorable holiday spent in ways that give you joy.

I am…

B…simply being…

Peace.