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A few weeks ago I wrote about the idea of creating time in a box. My post today includes additional notes I jotted down in my personal journal to help me toward creating my very own time in a box ~

On Joy the Baker’s blog, she posted about her time in a capsule project that she and a friend undertook. They each placed several mementos in a box with attached notes about the item and then wrapped the box and tied it with twine to be opened 7 years in the future. I like this idea. And have been thinking about it for a couple of days.

What is keeping me from creating my time in a box? For it is clear that something is preventing me from doing so. I get excited; feel the excitement viscerally and then… nothing. I put on the brakes. Get stuck. Glued in place. Paralysis sets in.

A very familiar process that has been repeated multiple times in multiple ways throughout my life but with the same result ~ a stymied creative spirit, a damming of creative juices and subsequently a pervasive depressed soul.

So what can I do that can move me toward action, if only a baby step or two?

Time Box Items

1. A lock of my purple hair to remind me that even in my 50’s I still have a sense of stylish fun;

2. A copy of my paystub so I can remember where I was working in 2011;

3. A photograph of my living room or a portion thereof to help me remember where I called home;

4. A photograph of my art supplies on my long birch art table to help me remember that I was an artist even when I was not producing any tangible pieces;

5. My adoptive Mama’s salt shaker, the clear glass one with blue paint circles and metal cap to remind me that this was the year in which I made a major major change in my diet and went super low sodium;

6. A self taken photograph of me so I can see how I have changed in the ensuing 7 years;

7. A photograph of me with my daughter, the grandkiddos, and the rest of my clan to keep safe in a box for 7 years even though I cannot guarantee their safety in the world outside.

So here is proof of artistic life.
One baby step at a time.

Life experience. There’s nothing like it. There’s nothing that can take its place. Life lessons.

Lessons learned yesterday, one week before, several years previous, a decade or two in the past. These life lessons when learned and understood, add to our wisdom.

Today, I benefited from life lessons and experiences that began many years ago and continued to come around the bend quite frequently. These particular lessons were tough to live through. At times these experiences challenged my belief in human goodness.

Some might say that I survived these particular life lessons. Today’s experience reminded me that I am more than a survivor ~ I am a thriver.

Speaking truth to power.
Without breaking a sweat.

I love my chosen profession. My natural curiosity into what makes people tick and a generally empathetic nature are qualities that serve me well as a psychologist.

I have heard people say that nothing in life surprises them ~ implying that they have either witnessed and/or experienced first-hand so much misery or astounding miracles that they are now impervious to anything else that life could reveal.

Me, on the other hand, find myself continually surprised by human nature, of what our species can accomplish, create, destroy, deny, manfiest, spring back from, endure and the list goes on and on. The ways in which people regularly surprise me in their behaviors or actions is, indeed, a lengthy list.

I am grateful for the capacity to be surprised by our very natures, reactions, responses, resiliency, and behaviors. These surprises enrich my life, educate me, broaden my perspectives, inspire me, illuminate my blind spots, and strengthen me, which in turn improves my ability to deliver competent and compassionate services to my clients.

Today, I was surprised.
Today, I grew.
Growth is good.

My Thriday has come around again.
Not one minute too soon or too late really.
Right on time actually.

I put in a solid work week that required lots of thought, challenging of beliefs, exercising my brain muscle, expanding my experience realm and providing good mental health services. A satisfactory and satisfying work week it has been.

Making me all the more glad and grateful that my Thriday has come around, again.

Almost.

While I am there and not here, I will be thinking of you little blog.
I will miss you. For sure.

But what’s that they say? Something about absense making the heart grow fonder.
True. At least part of the time.

No. Not buying it?

Well then…
Think of it this other way.
I will be bringing back lots of stories.
Stories about good times had and bad times missed.
Tales that are tall and some that might just be long in the telling.
Vignettes of people not yet met and sunsets not yet set.

I will be back before you know it.
I promise.

Down for the count. That’s where I am right this very moment of these past two days. Struck down. By my Bastard of an Un-Wanted Buddy Vertigo.

Conducting work from home yesterday via phone and email.

Oh how I long to be free, totally free, of this condition.
That is my prayer of begging today Universal Powers that Be.

It is enough today that I made it through my work day. Enough that I showed up. Showed up, where and when I said that I would.

Enough that I took care of business without tipping over.
At least in front of anyone else.

Tipped. Tilted. At a slant. A bit cockeyed.
That’s me.
Me and my bastard of a buddy Vertigo.
I thought he was on his way out of my life but the bastard returned with full vengeance last night. Like a stinking thief, he snuck into my bedroom and tipped the bed, with me in it.
Damn you Vertigo!

I managed to skulk into work for a few hours to complete an evaluation, cancel some appointments, and in general, earn my financial living. And then managed to make it home without crashing my car, Buster Blue. Buster appreciated pulling into his home (the garage) on the return trip.

This attack is a bad one with centrifugal forces, waves of nausea and near black out moments.
Doing my best to keep the tide of hysteria at bay ~ even the mention of water and its potential for motion, makes me weep.

I wish upon a star and pray up to the heavens that this Vertigo bastard will be smitten or at the very least made to leave me and my general vicinity.
Being tilted ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.
Believe me. I know.

Today is one of those kind of days where I have wondered am I the only one out here in my corner of the universe.

I am home sick. As in, sick at home in bed up until an hour ago. As in not feeling well. At all.

I can hear city traffic rumbling along, off and on.
I just finished talking with a co-worker via phone about a mental health exam she hopes that I will conduct and write up on short notice.
I have texted a couple of people to let them know I will not be showing up where and when previously agreed to.

And yet, I still feel alone in this world.

Good doggone thing that the sunshine is streaming through my south facing windows onto my brown paisley-colored soft loveseat all done up in deep gold, garnet and earthy browns. Cuz without this warmth, freely given, I might just have had to curl up into my core, all alone.

Instead, I will pick up my crochet hook and continue working with this one strand of baby blue soft yarn. A project you see, that I am doing to help my daughter with a gift for her friend. My first ruffled scarf that is looking more like a corkscrew than a ruffle but is soft nonetheless. Soft, snuggly and comforting.

I am not alone. Right?

All it takes sometimes to set my world right, is that spark from someone’s eyes when they flash their genuine smile my way. That, or the sound of a real belly laugh shooting out and about like musical notes from a tuba or a saxaphone.

Or that light touch of a co-worker’s hand on my arm or shoulder as we pass in the hall and exchange our daily hello.

All it takes

sometimes.

June 2019
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