What Doesn't Kill Us....

As you may have guessed from the time elapsed since I last wrote, my mom withered away and died. When she passed on August 5, she was 10 days shy of her 82nd birthday. Her illness threw my family into a tizzy. And now, after her death, my family is falling apart. I don’t know if this will last – I hear it’s common for siblings to fight in these situations – but my feeling is that the future has been forever altered. Personality traits and disorders that were hard to take before are now unbearable. Damaging things have been said and done. In circumstances where we should be supporting each other, this is simply too much.

In fact, life really sucks right now. I can usually do the Zen thing, but so much has happened at once that I’m unable to pull it off this go around. In addition to mom’s death, we recently moved. And we did it on our own. Tough, tough work. Then, my employer is undergoing a crisis. I love my job but the company is falling apart, just like my family. Fortunately and hopefully, though, an organizational consultant will help us put things back together. Last, my husband injured his arm and has to stay home on L&I. He may not be able to go back to his job, and since jobs are scarce for us over-fifty folks, and we have no savings, I’m frightened. All the events above have also caused some marital strife. Nothing we can’t handle, but it adds to the statement at the start of this paragraph.

Oh yes, the last thing going on: terrible PMS, made worse by perimenopause and stress. And, the research says, women with depression and anxiety disorders tend to experience an increase in those very things during the menopausal years.

Am I taking care of myself? As best I can, though without money and means to go to what really matters - the ocean, the warm sun, and discovering new places – looking for other outlets like inexpensive yoga classes or streets I haven’t walked feels like band aids for a broken arm. One thing I am greatly looking forward to is starting a printmaking class at Pratt in late September. For eight weeks, each Wednesday from 10-2, I will combine color, texture and paper to create what may be the most meaningful art of my life. It may not be pretty, but it will contain volumes: all the emotion that these last six months have stirred up, from events that haven’t been - and may never be - resolved.

(The photo here is of the tree in my parents' back yard that split in two around the same day mom got her cancer diagnosis. Some symbolism, huh?)