No new books February 02, 2022

Another day with no new books. I did search a little but … it was a decidedly unfruitful experience. We won’t lose heart though because the drought will not last forever. It never does, and I’m grateful. I begin to experience withdrawal symptoms if it lasts too long.

Must share. I love the shadows on the snow when the sun shines so brilliantly, What a change over stormy yesterday. The snow still clings to the house, around the windows.

A good portion of the big mound on the deck is from the snow sliding off the roof. In my early years here I would shovel it off the deck onto the lawn, that idea didn’t last too long. It’s been years.

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Yesterday, I mentioned I was currently reading book one of a four book collection. Well, I finished that and have moved on to book two. I think I’m past the halfway point by now. I’m liking it, although there are parts of it that remind me of book 1. Same lady, different name and circumstances, sort of. It is still worth reading.

Dakota Brides Boxed Set: Books 1-4

ABANDONED BRIDE Elin Hanson has traveled across the ocean as a mail-order bride. When she arrives in the Dakota Territory, she finds the man she has planned to marry has abandoned her–and left her to care for his young son.

Sam Andrews has his hands full running his ranch. The last thing he needs is a woman and little boy getting in his way. When Elin’s groom-to-be comes home, she must make the choice: settle for a loveless marriage? Or hold out for love? 

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Maybe tomorrow will be the day with a boatload of new books.

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Happy reading…

with the neglected windfall I know most of you have already. Most likely sitting on your night stand.

Just like me. Although mine are not sitting on a night stand.

That’s the beauty of an e-reader. There is no towering stack to make me feel guilty.

There is just a cute slim book, making me feel good.

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Tomorrow I will tell you about book three in this book collection.

PTSD Conversation January 29, 2022

“Do you wanna be well, really wanna be well?” The Gaither Vocal Band has a song asking this question.

I’m just now realizing it’s a question I have to ask myself, again.

I’ve loved this song since it first came out and I honestly thought my answer to this question was a resounding YES!

I’m having to rethink this position, based on my actions, or rather, lack of them.

My conversation with the dermatologist on Tuesday is the catalyst.

His question “how long have you had this rash on your legs?” started this train of thought. Looking at my answer “12 years,” from his perspective was upsetting. Added to that, my comment regarding much scratching “pain is addictive,” tipped me over the edge. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

I’ve never sought help in regard to this current, and worst, version of the rash. Why is that?

I can get into the weeds pretty quickly if I follow this train of thought too intensely so I won’t go there.

It is true that for many years I have been working on healing from my childhood trauma and the damage it caused. Honestly though, it’s not as simple as I thought.

I think it’s more like a mirrored disco ball. There are many facets and I’ve been honest about some but not others. My behavior shows the truth. No doctor visits in a decade. Never (rarely) leaving my house. Avoiding any gatherings with certain types of people in attendance. (it’s probably more honest to say avoiding gatherings with people in attendance, never mind types.)

Where do I go from here?

I don’t know. For now I think my acknowledgement of the truth is enough. My behavior often changes when my perspective changes.

Baby steps.

The song is based on a bible story found in the New Testament, the book of John, chapter 5, verses 1 – 15

I do want to be well, I’m just not so sure about making changes in some areas.

I like interacting with people in this arena. Maybe, along with honesty, interaction here is all that’s needed. I could live with that.

A little This and That, January 26, 2022

I’m feeling the need to talk. Not sure what about, though.

I had an appointment with a dermatologist yesterday. A few weeks ago I shared about large and longstanding rash on both shins. When my doctor saw it many months ago he referred me to a specialist. When I asked if it would be helpful, he didn’t hold out much hope for clearing it up.

Many times over the course of the year I was tempted to cancel the appointment. My thinking was… what’s the point if all they can do is give me something to keep it manageable.

Yesterday, I was pleased to discover there is hope for getting rid of it. The dermatologist prescribed a cream that should kill the active agent behind the rash. Suddenly I was happy I hadn’t given in to my negative thinking and cancelled the appointment.

There was a downside to the appointment as well, though. As he examined the worst area the dermatologist made the observation that I scratch a lot. It’s true, I do. Unfortunately, this keeps it alive and spreading. The new areas are the itchiest. Then I admitted I scratched sometimes when it wasn’t even itchy. I commented that the pain inflicted is addictive and the doctor nodded his agreement.

That revealing admission has been both haunting and upsetting. The worst of it is that I’m not really sure why. There must be a deep seated wound underneath the need to feel such pain. Admitting it has triggered a large emotional response in me that I don’t understand.

I’m hoping that, like with every other thought eventually making it’s way to the surface of my mind, with reflection some understanding will break through. The needed knowledge is down there somewhere, it just isn’t able to get through to me until I relax enough to give it permission.

Many years were spent with fingers in my ears. I would say that I was yelling lalalalalalala I can’t hear you, but I don’t think I was. I am pretty sure my feet were planted, my arms were crossed and I refused to listen to one word.

Now after many decades I’m finally listening. It has been a freeing experience and I’m loving life more and more all the time. It doesn’t mean I will ever be healthy or normal. The wounds go too deep for that, but I’m embracing every bit of emotional healing that comes my way.

And now I’m looking forward, hopefully, to rash-less legs with no more itch.

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My apologies! January 22, 2022

I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I love country and southern gospel music. I’m used to the mockery, even from my own family, so it’s all good. LOL

So the next part comes with no apology. lol

I was reading the third book in my current read collection. There was a tense moment when the struggling guy in response to an observation from his concerned intended said “One day at a time.”

My mind usually goes to music with a phrase like that and this is the song that popped into my head.

This was the sweetest version of One Day At a Time in my search. This lady can sing.

I think we need one more song from this sweet lady and her backup.

Make the World Go Away is an old, old song from 1963. It’s old but good.

I love other genres too but this is one I gravitate to these days. It’s the lyrics. They usually have much to say and I like that.

Enjoy.

This and that, January 19, 2022

It is such a pretty day out there. Blue skies, bright sunshine, the world covered in marshmallow mounds of fresh snow. All the wind blowing stuff around does it.

The evergreen trees in our yards are frosted with fresh snow. I’m pretty sure my neighbors would not be happy with me posting pictures that included their houses so we will have to make do with word pictures. The world is beautiful this morning.

The cheerful vision makes me want to venture out but only until I check the temperature. -25C feels like -37C with the wind chill. I will be staying inside, enjoying the sun streaming in the windows.

The warmth of that bright light is appreciated but it’s also a challenge. Bananas on the counter and plants on the table are fair game. I keep moving things into the shade but it’s a losing battle. The sun is relentless in moving across the sky, coming in the windows at new angles.

I’m not complaining, though, I just have to remember to do a better job of hiding things.

The positive side of all that light far outweighs the negative. It’s hard not to feel cheerful at times like this.

I admit it is still possible to feel down if I allow my thoughts to turn inward and stay there for any length of time. I’m not planning to go to that place willingly.

On a brighter note: as mentioned a day or so ago I went grocery shopping before the promised winter storm hit, to replenish my dwindling food supply. I am ready.

Bring on the snow.

I behaved and stocked up on fruit, vegetables, and other healthy things too, but you have to admit, ice cream does make things go better.

I haven’t seen this particular flavor of ice cream in a while and it sounded like a good idea at the time. It’s turned out to not be my favorite. Too sweet I think. But still, it’s ice cream, how can that be bad. Next time it will be back to tried-and-true black cherry. Or pistachio or maybe chunky caramel.

The other treasure found while strolling through the aisles was my new favorite coffee. It’s seasonal, Winter Blend, and will disappear soon. Since it was on at clearance prices, I picked up four, and I’m still smiling at my good fortune. I considered taking more but I didn’t want to be greedy, and besides, they were on the back of the top shelf. That was a major deciding factor. There were no tall people around and I would have had to climb the shelves to get more. I could visualize how well that was going to work out for me.

All this talk of coffee, I need some.

I’ll be back soon to talk about books, y’all.

A quick note January 13, 2022

Life is a little crazy here.

A week ago or so I mentioned a noise, sounded like something fell over. I searched the house over, couldn’t see anything and decided it must have been the wind outside pushing things around.

Boy was I wrong.

Last night I noticed water on the floor in front of the kitchen sink. It has happened a time or two and I thought it was resolved. Guess not.

This time when I checked it out it was dripping faster than I had ever seen it. Hmmmmmm.

I couldn’t see where the leak was and so by process of elimination turned off every valve available. When that didn’t solve the problem I decided to close the main shut-off in the basement.

Shocker.

At the bottom of the stairs dry wall debris was spread far and wide.

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Down, sitting on the floor

Planning to come down

2022 is getting off to a fabulous start.

I was hoping my son-in-law could bail me out.

Their house is in quarantine with covid.

Life is definitely not boring at this particular moment.

I’m told that if I cut the heavy sheet up into smaller pieces it will be easy to carry out.

I’ll let you know how that goes. 🙂

PTSD and abuse. How do you know for sure? January 09, 2022

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If you can’t remember how do you know it happened? You could be wrong.

I can see how, lacking memories, skeptics might question my claims of child abuse.

I’ve been thinking about this more intensely this weekend. It’s not that I haven’t spent time with it before. I have… decades in fact. Just not intensely.

This is the first time I’ve managed to lay it all out in order.

Just because my mind has refused to remember extreme pain, that doesn’t mean I have no memories of the rest of my life.

As a child, I remember poverty, insecurity and instability with a self-employed father full of brilliant ideas that didn’t always pan out. Highly sociable parents who loved to party and run with the fast crowd. An alcoholic father who was not always a nice, or faithful man. Dad was never alone much either.

Once the line has been crossed from inactive to active it can never be uncrossed. My conscious mind may refuse to remember the painful violations but my body remembers. Going forward, my unconscious thought patterns, reactions, and expectations were shaped by childhood experiences. As a teen, looking back, I recognize thought patterns that could only come from experience. With nothing to compare to, how could I know an inexperienced teen wouldn’t know what I knew. My naivete was in thinking I went in to marriage as a novice.

The most compelling indicator of abuse, though, was triggers.

For many decades, involuntarily, I refused to question anything. Thought patterns, reactions, hints, not even consideration of the to-question-or-not-to question dilemma, none of it. Subconsciously I knew I wouldn’t like the answers inspection would bring and my mind steadfastly refused to go there.

It was many decades before I gave triggers much thought. They were just a normal part of life. That is how it often is for the abused. Only when we see how others live do we recognize that what we live with is abnormal.

In the beginning most triggers seemed to be related to men. They range from a quick shut down, to knee-jerk reactions, to panic attacks. After years of examining root causes and then dealing with them, there were changes. Or, maybe it was whatever was next-in-line showing up.

The most recent episodes have taken me by surprise. With dysfunctional family dynamics there were multiple levels of abuse, much of it emotional. These lessor? triggers are taking their turn at gaining attention.

Reactions provide compelling evidence of abuse but the final nail in solidifying the idea was my brother insisting I admit it happened.

If there is any lingering doubt acesaware.org (Adverse Childhood Experiences) has extensive questionnaires offering insight. They name the minimum number of boxes it takes to assess probability. I passed the exam with flying colors. More than the required number of boxes checked off.

One of their areas of discussion is health issues. Aggravated by unaddressed abuse trauma. Two areas show up for me. Digestive and autoimmune. They have become more pronounced with each passing year.

A selfie standing on the kitchen floor.

This has been going on for more than ten years. I have a specialist appointment in a few weeks but it doesn’t look like there is any cure. This doesn’t surprise me. I’ve had skin issues most of my life, if it leaves one area it pops up in another. Why fight it?

There is no room left for doubt about what happened to me.

One more note: the As a child, .. paragraph above provided ample reasons for the checked off boxes on one of the questionnaire pages.

If you suspect you may be a victim check out acesaware.org , it is sponsored by California health and has a wealth of information and helpful tools available to everyone.

I hope this made sense.

I am an introvert January 02, 2022

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The writer of the quoted article (whom I’ve never met) knows me really well and I want to be able to find this again.

A blogger friend has a weekly writing prompt and today’s prompt was Introvert. I am one but have nothing of value to say so this little discussion doesn’t qualify as the post he is looking for.

Aaron, at Sunday Scribblings is also an introvert and quoted an article that describes folks like us so well. The link to his post is here

The article is excellent but I won’t quote all of it even though I’d like to. I will share the headings though. There are ten myths the author addresses and from my perspective, he is right on.

Myth #1 – Introverts don’t like to talk. I totally agree with this one. If you can get me started, you may wish you hadn’t.

Myth #2 – Introverts are shy. The author says we aren’t shy, we just need a reason to talk. Yup.

Myth #3 – Introverts are rude. He says we want real and authentic and this doesn’t always go over well. I find telling it like it is is not usually socially acceptable. This one gets me in trouble sometimes.

Myth #4 – Introverts don’t like people. He says we don’t have many close friends but intensely value the ones we do have. True

Myth #5 – Introverts don’t like to go out in public. He says we do, we just don’t like it for as long a time as extroverts. I agree.

Myth #6 – Introverts always want to be alone. He says we are comfortable in our own skin but we crave authentic interaction with one person at a time. Agree.

Myth #7 – Introverts are weird. He says they don’t follow the crowd. I find I march to the beat of my own drum and usually don’t fit in with the crowd. Always have. Even in high school.

Myth #8 – Introverts are aloof nerds. I can remember a high school experience. Walking home a neighbor girl and several of her friends were ahead of me on the other side of the road. I heard them comment, calling me stuck up. I was in my own little world and they seemed to be enjoying one another. I saw no indication I was wanted in their group and I was happy where I was.

I’m not good at picking up on subtle social cues and it usually backfires when I do try to act on my interpretation of them. I’m not rejecting anyone I just assume my presence is not desired and do my own thing.

Myth #9 – Introverts don’t know how to relax and have fun. The author says there is so much going on that we are on sensory overload in a crowd and shut down. True, true, true.

Myth #10 – Introverts can fix themselves and become Extroverts. I wish. No we can’t.

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The explanations in the article are so much better but at least these brief comments give me a reminder of what was said.

Being an introvert is a pain in the butt sometimes. On the other hand there are qualities we find useful in society.

Introverts are thinkers. We do need some of those every now and again.

I am what I am. There is no changing it so why fight it.

This and that December 22, 2021

Tomorrow is not Christmas Eve? Whew.

It’s always a relief when I get ahead of myself and find I’m wrong in the right direction. It’s the pits when I’ve lost a day and it’s later than I think.

I have some last minute shopping to do and it’s challenging. Partly because of shortages (no Christmas gift bags at the Dollar Store,) and partly because my intended gift store is gone. It’s been replaced with other businesses. How sad is that? It will have been a casualty of covid restrictions last year. Now I have to think of something else for a gift. It’s tough when some of us are hard to buy for. It’s that stage of life when there is nothing much we actually need or want. This extra day to think and look will save my bacon.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed but when I use slang I try to remember to search and make sure there is an available meaning. What good is a slang expression if you don’t know what it means. It’s amazing what can be found on the internet, I don’t think I’ve tried to use an expression yet that couldn’t be found.

Getting back to the gift I have to rethink, maybe I can find something at the garden store. Maybe a yard ornament or something, for one of her many flowerbeds. (It’s a good job she doesn’t read my blog, the surprise could be blown.)

As for the important gift I needed to find today… I was successful – sort of. My daughter wanted a hoodie (like everyone else is getting this year) in some shade of blue. It’s a good thing she wasn’t all that stuck on the color (I could tell by the way she answered the question) because all I could find was a grey one. I liked it a lot and I hope she will too. It looks like her, if that makes sense.

They were having a sale and right below her rack there was another one with a hoodie I thought I would like. It’s built short and wide, which isn’t all that flattering, but hey loose is warmer than tight. And since I’m always cold…

In fact, this one isn’t even enough tonight, I’ve added another layer, that makes four. I’m finally warm.

I’ll let you see.

so intense… it’s the picture taking thing
Four heavy layers is finally enough.

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What will I do when winter really gets here? lol

We haven’t talked about books but I am reading, so…

Happy Reading y’all

Follow up to Dreams December 18, 2021

You think I’m crazy. I’m sitting here watching (listening) to podcasts and playing a game and now I’m thinking about my Dreams post of a little earlier.

Looking at it from another perspective (maybe your’s) I’m sure you all think I’ve lost it. How in the world can a simple decision to sleep on a different side of the bed lead a person to see it as a life changing experience?

Here is the thing. Sometimes life changing has nothing to do with the size of the decision. Sometimes the decisions we wrestle with the most are inconsequential. In fact many of the ideas we hold on to with a death grip mean very little in the grand scheme of things.

The major shake up comes from the fact we made the change at all.

I had my little routine going on. The placement of all things important to me. Clock, hand lotion, tissues, position of the light switch. My dresser with drawers full of things belonging to me. Orientation to the room.

As I’m trying to find words to describe all of this in a sensible fashion an unwelcome but true thought is barging it’s way in.

I’ve always explained my reluctance away as a move that would deprive me of the conveniences I’ve enjoyed where I was.

Further thought has me realizing that it is about so much more than that and I haven’t been allowing the thought to materialize, never mind be honest about it.

I don’t need all the drawer space that comes with the furniture and from the beginning I’ve set the room up as a him and hers. This parts mine, this parts yours. I did make use of the space, mostly for craft supplies and such. Things that could be moved elsewhere if there ever was a “him.”

It all seems a little weird now because I didn’t expect there ever would be a reason to share this space. Although, there may be a subconscious part of me that wishes otherwise. Who knows.

Moving from my side to “his” side feels a little like moving into enemy territory.

The decision to change sides seemed to come from a different place this time.

A week or so ago there was a pivotal moment where I was able to let go and break free of the hold my childhood abuser had over me. It was a major break through. It looks like that event has affected me in ways I have yet to discover.

It seems I’m not (emotionally) sharing this house with anyone anymore. Finally I have accepted full ownership and view the house as all mine.

Reality is, it has always been mine. No one else has ever lived here, or has a history with the furniture or anything else. Something broken inside me couldn’t believe it.

The decision to change to the other side of the room seemed easy and inconsequential this time and yet there was a deep sense of excitement over possible life change and adventure. Having the conversation steer into this sober emotional place is unexpected. I’m not celebrating but I’m quietly happy about this new information.

So, back to the original intent of the post.

Sometimes it’s not the weight of the decision that’s important, it’s the fact that we made it at all.

In the end my decision seems simple but carries far more significance than I could have guessed.

Have you changed your crazy assessment of me yet?!?

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