Yom Kippor and I backslid into a weird, exhausted confused state last night, triggered by talking about my mother and some of her more florid craziness.
I learned: I have to quit sugar yesterday, and adhere to the right exercise and medication regime.
I'm not ready to deal with my feelings about my mother in casual conversation yet--I still have more healing left to do.
Rage does not heal itself through the simple passage of time.
I need to make more careful note of where I leave my car parked when it is dark out and I am hurrying (late) to Yom Kippor services.
Elsewhere in the news, the great preparations for the great move-in are underway. C and I went all over the house and garden, looking at what would need to be cleared in order for him to start really moving in. It will be a big overhaul--almost as big a job as if we were moving into a new house together. New curtains, new bookcases, new arrangements for furniture, new kitchen set-up...and that's just the beginning. I have begun with what's doable for me--throwing away old spices that have been here since the last century.
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2 comments:
You said: Rage does not heal itself through the simple passage of time. I agree, though I wish it were different. I wish there was any easy way out of this pain. Teagrapple
I agree with your comment on rage. I recall May Sarton calling it a "short madness" I think of it as a simmering pot of oil. I want you to know that I come to your blog at least once a week. Sometimes I live vicarously through you. I lived in the Oakland/bay area for 32 years and recently moved to a wilderness area in the southwest. I came to your blog via The Sun and a beautiful poem that made me feel something I felt many years ago after leaving my lover's bed.
Thank you! Dorothy from OZ
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