The stars or at least my stars have been out of line this week. I’ve had odd dreams and misunderstandings, insomnia and sinus issues. My dark place is trying to reach out and suck me in and I’m fighting like crazy.
Larry said that maybe if we slept with Harold we would both feel better.
Hmmmm I was really surprised he wanted this. Although he knows I love Harold and think he’s adorable, Larry’s never paid much attention to him before and has acted like he didn’t care for him. He’s most certainly never invited him into our bedroom. So, since he was suddenly eager, I agreed to this arrangement.
We’ve slept with Harold for the last few nights.
Harold actually kept me up the first night with his noise and steamy ways. But I got used to him.
Meet Harold, the cool mist humidifier.
Sinus issues abound in Nashville. They say it’s one of the worst places to live if you have any kind of respiratory problem. The weather is as moody as a pre-teen girl around here. One of my favorite sayings is, “If you don’t like the weather in Nashville, stick around another hour.”
In the past week we have had sleet, sunshine, and rain, and snow, drear and windy weather. It’s been anywhere from 19 – 60 degrees F. Maybe this is why my stars have been lined up wrong.
I had some misunderstandings this week that really were the catalyst to my dark place. I don’t do well with pressure or conflict. I detest the thought of someone thinking of me as someone who I’m not. Although I know that it is probably impossible for anyone, I sure would like to be at peace with all people at all times.
In an effort to combat my darkness, I wove a very cool rag rug. It was an amazing bit of therapy for me. There’s something so peaceful in making something new out of something old, in mixing colors that compliment and bring joy to the beholder.
Sadly, when I took thus said rug off of its frame, it curled up like a dog bed, or a very heavy sombrero.
After pouting a little over what could be considered a waste of time, I realized it wasn’t lost time at all. It was time spent thinking of nothing much but the task at hand, the weaving, the over and under pattern, the colors and texture.
Weaving is a rhythm that connects to my soul.
While weaving, one cannot help noticing one’s hands. When did mine begin to look like my grandmother’s? As I wove, I thought of her and my mother, of their hands and their lives. And since it was Valentine’s Day week, I thought of their marriages.
Here are three generations on my maternal side:
All of the above people faced conflict and heartbreak beyond imagination. They endured the loss of children, the loss of health, the loss of parents, of siblings and friends, of income and even the loss of shelter.
They all probably had sinus issues, too. (And now, doesn’t sinusitis sound trivial?) And I imagine they were misunderstood on occasion. (Again… minuscule.)
But look at them.
What kept them together? What kept them sane and content? What do they seem to share in common? I believe they were spiritually bound together by love and commitment. For better or worse, these people stuck together and cared for each other. They were strong for each other. They were best friends.
Through all of my conflicts last week, Larry listened to me, cooked for me, rubbed my back and generally showered me with love and understanding. He made me feel like I mattered. I never forget how lucky I am to have married my best friend.
Jackson Browne’s The Late Show lyrics come to mind…
But when you know that you’ve got a real friend somewhere,
Suddenly all the others are so much easier to bear
The darkness is lifting for me right now. It’s time for me to weave some more and move on.
Now that I know what I did wrong with that darn rug, I have taken it apart and will attempt putting it back together once more. Hopefully I will not make the same mistakes.
It’s sort of like life, isn’t it?
Happy late Valentine’s Day
Always keep at least one close friend by your side at all times, and when things get messed up, don’t forget that you can always start over.