Tomorrow’s the Big Day

Well, ladies and gents, tomorrow is the day I undergo carpal tunnel surgery on my left wrist. Less than a day away and my nerves and anxiety are through the roof. But I am so ready to find relief from the constant numbness, tingling, and pain that shoot through my entire hand and arm if I move it the wrong way. I had my right wrist done in August of 2016 and had instant relief, and even though my left wrist is in worse shape, I’m hoping that this procedure will be just as successful. Please keep me in your thoughts and send good vibes in my direction.  I’ll try to post again, later on, this week with an update on how things went.

Update on “The Rise of Self-Doubt”

On September 26, 2018, I published a post about a poetry contest I was interested in entering. I expressed feeling a great deal of self-doubt about my talent and ability to produce an entry worthy of submitting into the contest. After receiving several messages of encouragement, I decided to throw my hat into the ring, and I entered my poem into the competition. Now, as with all contests, the waiting begins. I will find out either way by the end of December whether or not I placed or not. Fingers crossed.

Prepping for Surgery

Greetings Morning Glories,

You may have noticed I haven’t been posting on a regular basis during the past week or so. I’m getting ready to have carpal tunnel surgery on my left wrist, so I’ve been busy getting last minute projects done in anticipation of only having one good hand for several weeks. I had my right wrist operated on in 2016, it was an instant success, but taking care of my mother with one hand proved to be very difficult, so I’ve been putting off having the left one done. As a result, now my left hand is always numb and tingling, and even though my anxiety over having surgery (even minor such as this) is through the roof, I am looking forward to finding relief from these symptoms. I’ll try to post a few more times before the big day next week and then take some time off to recover.

Captured Rainbows

One day my sister and her jeweler husband came over and wanted to see me. I think I was around 10-years-old at the time. When I walked into the kitchen, I noticed that my brother-in-law had a small brown envelope in his hands. He told me to put my hand out like a cup, I did so and he proceeded to pour the contents of the envelope into my palm. Diamonds. I gasped. My hand was half full of glittering diamonds. I heard him laugh as my eyes went wide looking at the treasure that was cradled in my fingers. I started walking towards the window and vaguely heard him warning me to be careful that I had tens of thousands of dollars in my hand. When I went to the sun-filled window I got lost in the beauty and wonder of them. I remember thinking how could anyone capture rainbows and trap them in stones. They sparkled and dazzled in the light and I passed a fingertip over them to make them twinkle like stars that had fallen to Earth. Tipping my hand slightly back and forth I watched the jewels roll back and forth; they felt hard like stone and as heavy as frozen raindrops. Before I knew it, he asked me to give them back to him and reluctantly I did. As I watched them disappear back into the envelope I wondered if I would ever see anything as beautiful again in my life. I’m still waiting.

Watson and the Deer

Earlier this afternoon, I took my dog Watson out in back to throw the ball around for him. I had only thrown the ball once when we both heard crashing through the woods next to us. I turned and looked nervously because there has been a mother black bear with three cubs seen near where I live.  I didn’t see anything at first, but then I saw them. Two deer bounding through the fallen trees. They were magnificent. Solid muscle leaping and running without any hesitation. Luckily, my dog was so stunned and confused by what he was seeing he came running back to me rather than after them. It was interesting watching Watson watch them. I could see his brain trying to process the information. He looked to me and back to the deer and then back to me. The deer disappeared around the back of my yard, and the spell was broken. Watson went right back to playing as if nothing had happened. I guess he knew they were not a threat and felt like as long as I was there, he was safe.

Have Faith

“Have faith.” She tells me

But how can you have

Faith in the faithless?

How can you have faith

In someone who has

Let you down

More than they have

Raised you up?

How can you trust

Your heart with

Someone who never

Sees your feelings

As valid.

Who builds herself up

By tearing you down

Over and over again.

“Have faith.” She suggests.

Never again.

A Question of Dreams

I had a bizarre dream last night that I can’t stop thinking about. I’m hoping someone out there can give me some kind of meaning behind it. I was in the backyard of my childhood home. There was a gateway to a side part of the yard where a little frog pond was. In the dream, the gate was open, and there were three of four large white dogs lying in a semi-circle opposite my cat Patches, who was also lying down. They didn’t do anything. They didn’t move, they were just peacefully in each other’s space. For some reason, I’ve fixated on the dogs being white. Usually, dogs of that size are black and ominous, the dogs in my dream weren’t threatening at all. It was almost like a scenic painting. If anyone out in the blogoverse could help me, I’d appreciate it. This one has me really stumped.

Primal Grief Observed

Never have I felt this

Lack of control

Over my emotions.

I have been reduced

To a quivering,

Gasping

Shell,

Drowning in the

Ocean that falls

From my eyes.

This need to

Have her back

Is all-consuming

I’m vaguely aware

Of the pleas

Tumbling from my lips

Please send her back to me.

Please send her back.

I gulp in the air only to have

The wracking sobs

Steal it back again.

My pain so tangible

Yet I feel numb to it.

Minutes feel like hours

Until the wave finally passes

And I am deposited

Bonelessly onto the

Still unfamiliar shores

Of this cold new reality.

Primal Grief

This week has been difficult for me, regarding my grief process. My mom loved certain television shows and one in particular, “The Good Doctor” had become one of her favorites. I have been a fan of Freddie Highmore for years, my mom became a fan when we watched “Bates Motel.” This week was the second season premiere of “The Good Doctor,” and I knew it would be hard to watch, but once again I underestimated the power of grief. About halfway through the episode, I turned to ask my mom what she thought and froze. The room felt so empty, and I felt so alone in that instant that I started to cry, and then I just couldn’t stop. I tapped into the primal side of grief and just sobbed and wailed and begged whoever could hear me to allow my mom to come back again.  Afterward, when I was a gasping blob on the sofa, I felt more drained than I ever have before. It wasn’t just the television show that brought this on, last weekend was the 4-month mark since my mom passed. Having it be one-third of a year since she died felt like a substantial milestone. Now I am looking forward, with dread, to the upcoming months which will have her birthday, the first holiday season since she passed, and my birthday in January. I wish I could just crawl under the covers in November and not come out until next February. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get through it, it’s going to be the hardest time of my life. There are a lot of dark days ahead, but at the same time I know I’m going to get through it because even though my mom isn’t with me in person anymore, I know she’s still around. She’s still with me, watching over me, and that helps.