sadness – Page 2 – The Hermits' Rest

Make That TWO Canine Concerns

It’s a pretty sad day over at the Hermits’ Rest. This morning I noticed Goldie was limping. Soon after, Lee pointed out a huge lump on her left front leg. What the heck?

Well, Lee was already planning to take Harvey in for his lump and official diagnosis, but he went over to Dr. Amy’s mobile clinic and asked them to come by when they were done in Cameron (not cheap, but better than trying to transport the two big dogs).

So, they showed up and the challenges of looking at our dogs commenced. Looking at Goldie was easy. She loves Kelly the vet tech and volunteered to be looked at, poked, and prodded by Amy, too. Then she happily trotted off to the truck to get weighed. We need more Goldies.

The bad news is that the lump is probably a mast-cell tumor. Yes, they can pop up that fast. Those are the bad ones. Dammit. She has some heavy-duty steroids and antibiotics to take to see if that will shrink it. She’s getting the treatment for anthrax. Intense. Of course she won’t eat it. Lee is working on her.

I’m picky. But I need to live, because Suna loves me.

It was harder to treat Harvey. He was all shivery and snappy. But with patience, Kelly got him muzzled and Amy was able to palpate his lump. Thankfully, it felt full of fluid, not bad things. It is the least of his worries.

We’re never coming back down (the toilet paper is used to block off the stairs).

The blood work on Harvey came back really bad. All his liver levels are awful, which means liver cancer. That’s the last thing our family needs, more of that. His abdomen is swelling, too. We discussed options and decided to try a medication that can help in dogs, Denamarin. It’s helped Pickle, Anita’s dog. I don’t know that it can do much, but it will be less traumatic than taking him somewhere to get scanned, which would just tell us what we already know. Sniff.

I’m still happy, other than when vet people are around.

A funny thing or two. We were all concerned he was losing hair. Well, he isn’t. Harvey had been shaved last week to remove a cyst, and the other smooth patch was from something else they did last week that Lee didn’t remember or know about. Also, Carlton was hilarious. He ran to greet them when they came in, but when he saw who it was, his tail went between his legs and his hair stood on end. Whoa, he is not fond of veterinarians.

I’ll just stay back here behind Harvey. He’ll protect me.

Were we done yet? No. Lee’s brother had asked if Dr. Amy had come to trim Vlassic’s toenails. No, she had not. No one wants to trim his toenails. He has gotten worse and worse about it as he ages, but the nails hurt Jim. So, they said they’d give it a try, as the rain began to pour.

This went very badly. Kelly tried to just hold Vlassic, but he acted like he was being murdered. It was horrific. He bit and screamed until Amy was able to stick a needle in him. They covered him in a towel until he settled. I don’t think we will let them try without sedation again, to save on potential human injuries. What an embarrassment.

Oh, and I forgot the icing on the cake: when Vlassic was squealing, Penney ran out through the gate and tried to take matters into her own hands. She started biting his butt! So we had to remove her and Goldie both. They were upset, of course.

Was I a good dog? Well, at least I was a wet dog!

We are just going to take things one day at a time now. At least horses are doing ok at the moment. I spent a lot of time after the rain stopped just walking around and breathing. I’m glad I have some centering tools to help me deal with this stuff.

And to top it all off there was another school shooting murder spree. Why do we keep giving unstable people access to assault weapons?

Not a Good Deja Vu

Once upon a time I was in charge of a large flock of chickens that the owners were no longer interested in taking care of. Their coop had a door, but an animal had broken the screening. Let’s just say soon I had a small flock of chickens. Then I had one. Big Red hung on for a few more years.

I got a much sturdier coop and kept a few more chickens. I was down to six most of this year, then something got Bertie Lee. Then Blondie.

When I had seven. We lost the gray one last year.

Last night something got almost everyone else by coming in through their door and getting them while roosting. My fault. The hens liked to free range so I didn’t lock the door to their run. If the dang bobcat wanted them so bad, why didn’t he take them? Or maybe it was a raccoon. Or any other of the many predators we have.

I’ll really miss Buttercup. She and Bertie Lee were the friendliest ones I ever had.

I’m glad we didn’t have an attack like this for four years! But today was bad and made me cry. I’d had these hens a long time. But one is here still, poor Bianca, who can’t take the heat. It’s hard to be a lone chicken like Big Red was. She bonded with Sara’s horses. Either Bianca will do that or the predator will come back.

Circle of life. Blah blah.

If I get more chickens it will be in the fall, when it is cooler. In the meantime I’ll clean the henhouse out really well. Sigh. This past week has been rough.

At least the horses are okay. Apache seemed off yesterday but today he ate his food and took his meds like a champ. And Drew did all his exercises right, paying attention to me, his leader.

Thanks for being a good guy, Droodles. You were even good for your shot.

As icing on the cake, we are sleeping in the RV because our upstairs air conditioner has broken and won’t get fixed until Monday. Oh course, now is the time the bedroom slide decides to not extend so I can’t make the bed. Sigh again.

I’m doing a lot of deep breathing and trying to be kind to myself. I’d hoped to have lunch with friends today to cheer me up, but just one friend made it. I enjoyed a Negra Modelo in honor of Buttercup, Henley, and Billie Idyll and was consoled by Phyllis. I’m grateful to her and all my sympathetic Facebook buddies.

We can get through this stuff together (this means YOU, too, members of my household).

Anger Is Not My Friend

I don’t get angry often. My dad, who was usually funny and kind, scared the poop out of me when he got angry. And I’d cry. I ended up trying to avoid volatile people my whole life and still cope very poorly with being shouted at, even when I’m just perceiving it that way. One of my many “areas for growth.”

Birds are gathering here. Swallows on the front porch roof.

Because of all this, I’m terrible at expressing anger. I either cry or am so scary that I get criticized and berated for it. I try to let things go, breathe, and not let things beyond my control get to me. Until I don’t.

I regret to say I got angry and yelled at two people today. One person I really shouldn’t have expressed anything to, even though I wasn’t wrong to get upset. I’d repeatedly asked for something not to happen but it did anyway and I got a huge feeling of powerlessness and loss so I uncharacteristically yelled. Ugh. I should have just gone inside and cried over what I lost. Nothing will bring it back.

This kind of anger isn’t simple. Sadness and grief were I’m loved. There were underlying annoyances that I’d been keeping to myself that burst through. Not my finest moment, and I’ll have to be apologizing for not keeping things to myself better.

The second time I got angry was simpler. I was driving to lunch and came to the big four-way stop sign at a major-ish intersection not far from the ranch. This stopping place has red flashing lights, stop signs that frantically blink, and signs saying stop ahead.

I was slowing down, you know, to stop, as one does, when a big, white SUV flew through the intersection at over 70 mph (speed limit had lowered to 60 before the sign). The vehicle did not slow down one bit, and after I blew my horn, I watched it continue down the road at the same rate of speed until it finally stopped at a red light. I was glad to see the car had brakes.

That light, and a convenient slow truck ahead of the SUV enabled me to catch up to it and get a photo of the license plate. If you know this guy, tell him he could have killed someone today.

When we got to the main intersection in town, I needed to turn right, while SUV guy needed to turn left. I pulled up and saw an elderly fellow. I honked my horn and yelled “Please stop at stop signs!” Like that did any good at all.

Everyone at lunch said he probably wondered what was wrong with that hysterical old woman in the sporty car. He probably thought I was having hormonal issues.

Hmm. I do look a bit manic or like Goldie just passed gas nearby. Or like my dad. I’m angry Mr Kendall reincarnated.

I shouldn’t have road raged at the guy. I’m in Texas. He could have shot me. I have remained calm the rest of the day and will figure out how to make amends.

No one’s perfect. I’m sure not. And maybe it was the heat. 106° today. But I need to learn not to beat myself up for being human and be gentle with myself (and others). Sigh. Enough navel gazing. I can try again tomorrow.

Mourning Relationships

I didn’t write a blog post yesterday, because I was too caught up in an unexpected wave of emotions. I found out that another of my mentor/friends from my time in La Leche League had passed away quite unexpectedly. Mentor/friend. There’s a concept. I truly believe that everyone we get to know, even a little, teaches us something. Everyone who becomes a friend teaches us something we need to learn that will help us.

Losing Gail Moak, who was a friend and mentor to so many stunned and pained me. As I sat with my grief (when I finally got a moment) it occurred to me that what I am mourning more than anything is the end of opportunities to listen to Gail, to learn from her, and to support her when she needs support.

Luckily, my mentor/friend Nancy called right about then, as I was sweeping the front porch to dissipate my feelings of helplessness, and she understood what I meant when I told her I don’t mourn the loss of life, because I know that happens to us all; I mourn the loss of a real-time relationship. Wow, I really value relationships with people I care about.

Last night’s sunset comforted me, as the Earth often does in its perspective

I think I mourn losses of friendships the same way. When the incident with our Bobcat book club happened, I ended up feeling so sad that I’d lost the chance to connect with, learn from, and support some women I’d come to think of as friends. They’re still alive, but our relationship died. It still hurts.

There’s that cliche that people always say after a loss, something like tell those you care about that you love them, or hug your family now. I can understand where that impulse comes from. My dearest wish, when it comes to my friends and family, though, would be that they are secure in the knowledge that I value my relationship with them, whatever it is, and that I will mourn it when we part, however we do part.

There’s so much we don’t know. But we do know our connections are vital for our spirits.

Just a bit about Gail. I knew of her when I worked with La Leche League, but never met her until I was asked to serve on the Board of Friends of LLL, the group for retired Leaders and supporters of the organization. We worked closely on the newsletter when I was editor, spoke often during meetings, and communicated very much on social media.

I got to know what a caring person she was, and not just about mothers and babies. She was passionate about equal rights for all people and didn’t just talk about it, she acted. I learned ways to be a stronger ally for my Black, brown, and indigenous friends from her. I saw her kindness toward the LGBTQIA+ community and felt a kindred spirit in how she expressed love and, crucially, support for people trying to be themselves in an increasingly hostile environment.

I dedicated this butterfly to Gail’s spirit

Most important, she was one of my many Christian friends who remind me that there are Christ-like ways of following that tradition where all are loved, not just rich, white males and their followers.

I just had to get all of what’s been stewing inside of me out. Writing things down always helps ground me. Life without both my friends Johanna and Gail will be hard. Both of them will leave a little black hole in Zoom meetings where their squares should be, but my heart will be full of memories of my relationships with these mentor/friends.

Thanks to all of you readers who have touched me. You DO make a difference and you have each taught me a lesson (some fun, some not so fun). I’m very grateful to you all.

Sad Times

Wow. People just go around shooting each other and doing collateral damage. Our community lost a police officer after someone shot their wife and then shot at the officers who came after him. I’m not going into details. It’s too sad. I just feel terrible for my law enforcement friends and their families. I’m sure family members of the shooter will never be the same either. Our violent culture creeps in and makes us all feel less and less safe every day.

Kindness seems so futile against so much anger. Keep trying to listen, understand, and support even those who differ in their perspective. That’s how we can work to heal in these hard times.

Don’t Ask Me

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

This is the daily blogging prompt. When I saw it, I immediately knew the answer. It’s really hard on me when people ask:

How is your son?

Every time I’m asked, I’m reminded that it’s been years since I heard from him directly. One day he said he needed some time before he’d talk to me again, and that was that. So, I really don’t know how he is, other than indirectly.

Small melilot, bluebonnets, and Indian paintbrush, because I need a picture.

Maybe someday I’ll know what caused the rift. Maybe not. As I’m repeatedly reminded, it’s the estranged person’s right to do what they need to do, and that should be respected.

It’s not at all helpful to speculate about possible reasons for the situation, because I have no way to know. His father won’t talk to me about it, nor will anyone in his household. I’m glad they respect his wishes, and if the situation were reversed, I would be grateful.

When I’m sad, I hug Fiona. She always seems to like me.

Still, I’m human and a mother who loves her children unconditionally. So, it hurts to be asked how my son is doing. I wish him peace and love, and respect his wishes.

And that is my answer to the prompt.

Anticipation Rarely Fails to Disappoint Me

I was really looking forward to yesterday. Family members who don’t hate me were going to come stay with me for a few days. We were going to visit people, go out to eat, wander around to parts of the island I can’t go to (this place is crawling with gated communities), and talk about our respective difficult elderly family members.

Of course I took a nice long walk at lunchtime, too.

I can’t believe I did this, but I allowed myself to get all excited about the fun we’d have. I tidied up the condo (not that it was untidy – I love to keep things clean and beautiful when I’m by myself), told everyone at work I was taking some time off, made sure I could get them a parking permit, and was all ready to welcome them.

I was disappointed to learn that one of my guests hurt herself getting ready to load the car, so they weren’t coming after all. I know she’s had back issues, so I felt sad for her. It certainly wasn’t her fault at all! Wow, did I experience a letdown, though. As high as I’d felt anticipating a visit and not having to be all by myself, I felt equally low realizing I was going to spend the rest of my time in Hilton Head alone. (I LIKE being alone, but I have had enough to fill my tank now).

I would not mind sharing the sunrises and sunsets with someone in person, but I get to share them with you!

After a while, I was kicking myself (mentally) for allowing myself to get all hepped up before something actually happened. I put out a whiny post on Facebook and got some varied responses.

Many people empathized with how I felt. I’m not alone in letting myself get excited then feeling really down. Others had helpful advice that I appreciated, such as a reminder that Brene Brown would say this means I’m living wholeheartedly. Something else I found helpful was advice from a friend’s therapist: “Focus on what you CAN do not on what you Can’t when disappointed.” Yet another commenter talked about “post-event letdown,” which I remember experiencing when I was younger, but have gotten better about and now just wallow in memories.

And people ask why I still do Facebook…the community I’ve built is so supportive!

I’ve been pondering whether I’m doing the right thing in trying to squish down my anticipation. I have been doing it for the past few years when I was letting myself look forward to trips, the return of people to the ranch, projects to work on, and people to do things with me. For example, when the first two people I asked to join me this week decided not to come, I wasn’t upset at all, because I was prepared for things not to work out. I let this third one get by me. My squishing down has gotten quite good in the post-COVID era, where just about everything fun got canceled, but it’s not perfect.

Life was as thrilling as a common toadstool.

But hey, isn’t anticipation fun? Doesn’t it make good vibes (or hormones or something) flow through you? Should I be trying another tactic besides not allowing myself to get happy about something until it actually happens? Maybe I should let myself dream about the fun I may have when I get to pick up my new car next week, rather than trying not to think about it in case something goes wrong?

The car DID at least make it off the truck and get to the dealership.

I think I’m going to let myself feel my feelings a bit more but work on not getting so sad about what I can’t do. Like the friend said, I can concentrate on what I CAN do. I tried that out last night, so rather than mourn the fact that the promised dinner and drinks weren’t going to happen, I got myself a ridiculously expensive old fashioned and drank it while listening to the excellent guitar player entertaining at the resort cafe and ordered myself an impressive plate of sushi and edamame.

Yeah, I looked like shit, but I was smiling.

I ended up in the resort lobby waiting for the food having a fun conversation about football with the women at the reception area. One woman ended up showing me the football-themed tote bags and pajama sets she’d made for friends, then some of the outfits she designed for herself. How would I ever have realized that these women were so interesting and talented if I hadn’t rewarded myself and done what I could do after a disappointment? I win!

I enjoyed that sushi while watching King Richard, the movie about Venus and Serena Williams’s controversial father. I particularly enjoyed the portrayal of the sisters in this movie. They were so authentically happy, smart, and normal young girls. They weren’t overly made up or with fancy hair and clothing. They looked like the girls I knew at the time and played and bickered and loved each other so genuinely. What a great portrayal of a black family that looked real. (I also thoroughly enjoyed all the 1970s cars.)

In summary, I’m going to let myself anticipate fun things in the future, but if they don’t come to pass, I’ll remind myself of the options for fun that I still have. Sounds like a plan, doesn’t it? LOVE to all of you reading this, and healing vibes to my family member!

PS: the beach is so fun to watch. An osprey just flew right by my balcony with something in its talons! And I spent at least a half hour just before sunset watching large pods of dolphins very close to the shore here. There must have been a dozen! The photo shows how close they were (and some of those weird rectangles that are container ships). People enjoyed watching them.

Thoughts and Actions, Please

Today I’ve been feeling sick. I’m not a gun lover in the first place, and now I feel like we are all just waiting for our turns to be someone’s target. The cynic in me feels that the people who run the US care only about themselves, their families, babies (up to the moment of birth, at which point they are worthless), and guns.

[Some of you may want to stop reading now and go enjoy some Fox News.]

What has sucked the wind out of my sails the most is how I’ve seen regular folks reacting to the endless shootings of people who just happened to be living their lives in the wrong places.

I burned candles in their honor, but won’t stop there.

It’s not just the sincerely uttered “thoughts and prayers,” because I know that’s what people in a certain social group say when they just don’t have anything else to say. No, it’s people who say the ONLY thing you can do to help dead children, teachers, grocery shoppers, and such is to pray.

“My tradition teaches that prayer without action is just noise.”
Rabbi Jack Moline

As my friend Lynn pointed out to me, you don’t hear many ministers saying that. You hear them calling for change. At least the ministers I’ve heard. Rabbi Moline is one of them. Another quote from him:

There is no tradition that, at its core, would justify the massacre of children at school, grandparents at the grocery store, or congregants in a house of worship. And there should be no faith leader that sits idly by while the people we have dedicated our lives to ministering to are slaughtered. Prayer works only when it softens the hardened heart and opens it to the message of healing and justice that flows through every tradition’s scripture. Prayer works only if it leads to confession, contrition and repentance. Prayer works only if it is not an excuse for inaction.
NOTHING PREVENTS THE FREE EXERCISE OF RELIGION MORE EFFECTIVELY THAN A BULLET

Worse than this, I’ve seen people post that it’s not so bad all these people are dying, because that way they get to go meet Jesus and hang out with their deceased relatives sooner rather than later. I’m sorry, but WTF. It’s hard for me to imagine their pacifist god-figure wanting people do die early in a massacre just to hang out with him. Um, I hope they draw comfort from that.

I got so upset that I ran to my trusted sources for words of comfort, words to help me remember who I am, and words to steer ME via my beliefs. My Christian spiritual leader, Jim Rigby reminded me of these words by Martin Luther King, Jr.:

“Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction.”
MLK

And then Jim talked about having the courage to be gentle and find hope as I respond to the hurt I am feeling right now. He is right, of course:

Greek culture had a word for “gentleness” (praus) that actually could meant “power under control.” It was sometimes used for a powerful animal that had been tamed. Today “gentleness” might refer to finding the courage not to use violence to solve all of our problems. Before we can tackle the problem of gun violence we must first ask ourselves an important question: Does our nation have the courage to be gentle?

Guns are no replacement for the civic virtue of courage. This nation cannot be saved by military grade weapons in the hands of cowardly spirits. Human decency requires the bravery to steer by our hopes not our fears.
Jim Rigby, Facebook

While all that helped me spiritually, I still am faced with even more blatant 1984-style language and proclamations by civic leaders that my head literally hurts. Why are guns more important than children, I keep wondering? Why is “freedom” more important than protecting the mentally ill and dangerous from themselves and others? I’m not alone. From Richard Stone of Taylor, Texas:

I got in a row on one of the local community pages about arming teachers. Saw this over on Twitter a few minutes ago and now I can’t wrap my head around the cognitive dissonance.
Richard Stone, Facebook

He then quoted someone else who finally put into words what has been causing my hurt:

“I heard this point yesterday and can’t get it out of my mind – TX politicians don’t trust teachers to choose books, but they think arming teachers is a good idea.”
Bethany Albertson

I have a child who is a teacher. He just celebrated five years at Austin ISD and I am proud of him. He was raised in a gun-free household, as was I, and as I have been until things changed around here. I do not want to see him having to protect his students from killers. I want him to teach history and even hide some facts in among the state-mandated stuff. I want him free to care about his students, but also feel free to criticize or discipline appropriately, when necessary, without worrying that kid will come back and shoot him the moment they turn 18. Holy crap that is just plain dystopian. I’m nauseated.

And don’t tell me to move. I’m from here, too.

Anyway, I’m not a crazed snowflake who wants to snatch people’s possessions out of their hands. I’m a mother, a spouse, an aunt, a nature lover, and just a regular human who wants to feel free to have opinions, live in safety, and feel free to spread love, kindness, and even lovingkindness, around the land.

But to also speak up. So many folks I know have been afraid to say we need to do something about the gun worship culture here. Why? Because of gun worshippers. Not hunters, not safety officers. People who literally LOVE the things and don’t give a shit how many people have to die because of it.

As so many people I know have been asking, how did we get here? Can we make things better. I want to help.

Bad Mental Health Day

I’m not ashamed that I’ve dealt with anxiety most of my life. I’m just wired that way. For the past few years I’ve done a lot of work to manage the stress levels in my life. I’ve:

Changed jobs.
Cut out volunteer work where people didn’t respect me or weren’t truthful.
Minimized contact with people who put me down or try to manipulate me.
Changed my internal self talk to be more positive.
Made good progress on liking myself even when I can see my unlikeable traits.
Stopped trying to fix things I can’t control, including wars, divisive politics, other people’s beliefs, and other people’s actions.
Spent more time in nature.
Got more exercise. Especially with horses.

Nonetheless, BOOM, anxiety attacked me today. My chest has hurt all day. Badly. My neck has tingled. My mouth feels numb. All the fun stuff.

I think it’s because my boss said yesterday that I interrupt too much. He’s totally right. It’s why I hate talking on the phone or in groups. I have a weird inability to take turns in conversation. That’s got to be annoying to others, since I’m often embarrassed when it happens.

Everyone has issues. But sensitive people like me can take a small comment and leap to conclusions, like that they won’t renew my contract because of it. I know I’m a good writer, though, which helps counter my conversational impairment. I can edit writing. No wonder most of my jobs have been online!

The thing is, I know I shouldn’t beat myself up for things I know are an issue but am working hard on. I’m paying attention and trying once again to be quieter in meetings. Usually my issues rear up when I relax and stop self censoring. I guess the real me is just an over-talking, sarcastic, judgmental bitch. But a lovable one, right?

At this point in my life, it’s going to be easier to just accept myself and enjoy being with people who accept me, warts and all. I’ll certainly return the favor and grant them the grace to be their flawed selves. I should add that to the end of my bullet points above.

Sigh. I was going to destress by riding Apache, but I realized the horses are now all together, which I hadn’t realized was imminent. They all ran far away. Mmm. Grass. I think two horses are going to the Farm this weekend, which will be easier on Drew.

Instead, I really-did my horse playground, since it was taken apart to mow, and a new fence is going to cut some of it off. That was enough exercise!

Ready to jump, slalom, figure 8, circle, and side pass. And plenty of leg yield space.

See, I’m flexible and going with the flow and adapting to change. Gooooooo Suna.

Anyway, I love you all, imperfect as we all are.

Shocked and Sad

When you live in a small town, things affect the whole community. We lost a friend yesterday. I’ll skip the gory details and just say it was a real shock to lose Christi.

I have Christi to thank for Fiona. If she hadn’t remembered I wanted a little donkey, Fiona might not have gotten rescued from the sale barn. Thanks to this kindness, I’ve had five years of donkey love.

At Christi’s ranch in 2016, the day I met Fiona.

We had many horse adventures and shared an interest in essential oils. In fact, it’s thanks to Christi and oils the I became a Master Naturalist. I went to a class she held at our beloved Dutch Towne Deli. Dorothy (not normal dot in the comments) was there and told me about the next class. Thank goodness for that bit of fortune!

Sigh. Our political differences split up our friendship, and I really miss lunches with her and her mom. But I still cared about Christi. She had a kind heart. She did not deserve to be taken from her friends and family this way.

I’m sending much sympathy to her grieving family, friends, and community. It’s hard to believe.