- Joined
- Feb 23, 2014
- Messages
- 2,636
- Reason
- Lost a loved one
- Diagnosis
- 01/2014
- Country
- US
- State
- NC
- City
- Littleton
It's been a long time, my family. I thought I'd pop in and give you an update.
I'm still working on physical recovery. Tomorrow I'll have surgery for a prolapse that was aggravated, if not caused, by all the heavy lifting. I've been waiting for several years to get this done and I'm rather excited about getting it over with, as it's kept me close to home and less active than I need to be. I've lost half the really necessary weight and am optimistic about losing the other half once I've recovered.
I'm finding that the new me is much less judgmental and I just don't sweat the small stuff. The tenant in the rental house failed to report a slow water leak and now I'm going to have to repair walls and replace flooring. The insurance company denied the claim because it was long term damage, so it's going to cost a pretty penny--after a very short meltdown I decided to sell the house as soon as she's out of there and the repairs are done. The rental contract makes her responsible if she does not report the damage in a timely manner, but I'd have to sue her to get any money out of her and I'm just not interested in the drama. Thankfully, the sale of the house will cover the cost of repairs. I had a flash of anger at the tenant, but then decided that I don't know what's going on in her life that caused her to just let things get continually worse. I've learned about the inertia that depression can cause, so who knows. I'll just assume that she needs a break on this one.
I've been meditating--or trying to. It's surprisingly difficult, but very effective. All I want is peace and no drama.
My plan to turn downstairs into an accessible Air BnB was put on hold for a second year by COVID and my slow pace. The ceiling lift is still in place, but I've repainted and redecorated the downstairs. Maybe I'll actually get moved upstairs this winter, and hopefully I can give it a try next summer. I've realized recently that I sleep better with other people around (it used to be just the opposite), so perhaps the timing is good on this.
I've just learned that one of my (step)daughters commented to my son that it feels like I'm erasing her dad from the house, so I've got to work on that perception. He is everywhere for me, and that's a good thing, but apparently the overall feel of the house, rather than the individual items, is what she responds to. Maybe if I write a letter to him describing what I see and how I think the changes honor him, and give it to her to read, she'll understand. I just thought of that while writing to you--I'd almost forgotten how helpful this place is!
It's been 21 months, and I'm just now able to pick up a book and read for pleasure. What's interesting is that I now enjoy reading non-fiction rather than novels. Escape is no longer disappearing into someone else's story--it's time to write my own story. This is the longest that I've been alone in my life, and I"m good with it. This new me, who is a combination of Matt and me and our journey, no longer looks to someone else for validation. I do miss the warmth and support of loving arms around me, but I'm finding that love and support from a spiritual source, and it's good.
What I am fighting is a very deep seated fear of being a caregiver again. I realize that if a loved on needed me that it would just happen and I'd step up, but I think I'm afraid to let anyone else into my circle who may need care before I do. I don't want to be responsible for anyone or anything other than myself, and even that's a struggle. I fantasize about trading in the house for a travel trailer and hitting the road, but for some reason it's just not time yet. Every time I leave this place I find myself thinking that it is too much for me and that I need to downsize, but when I come home I fall in love all over again.
I'll leave you with some pictures from yesterday morning's kayaking in the creek behind the house. Nature is my best medicine. At 21 months it's still a struggle to exit the doors and leave the house, but when I do, nature is my best medicine.
I'm still working on physical recovery. Tomorrow I'll have surgery for a prolapse that was aggravated, if not caused, by all the heavy lifting. I've been waiting for several years to get this done and I'm rather excited about getting it over with, as it's kept me close to home and less active than I need to be. I've lost half the really necessary weight and am optimistic about losing the other half once I've recovered.
I'm finding that the new me is much less judgmental and I just don't sweat the small stuff. The tenant in the rental house failed to report a slow water leak and now I'm going to have to repair walls and replace flooring. The insurance company denied the claim because it was long term damage, so it's going to cost a pretty penny--after a very short meltdown I decided to sell the house as soon as she's out of there and the repairs are done. The rental contract makes her responsible if she does not report the damage in a timely manner, but I'd have to sue her to get any money out of her and I'm just not interested in the drama. Thankfully, the sale of the house will cover the cost of repairs. I had a flash of anger at the tenant, but then decided that I don't know what's going on in her life that caused her to just let things get continually worse. I've learned about the inertia that depression can cause, so who knows. I'll just assume that she needs a break on this one.
I've been meditating--or trying to. It's surprisingly difficult, but very effective. All I want is peace and no drama.
My plan to turn downstairs into an accessible Air BnB was put on hold for a second year by COVID and my slow pace. The ceiling lift is still in place, but I've repainted and redecorated the downstairs. Maybe I'll actually get moved upstairs this winter, and hopefully I can give it a try next summer. I've realized recently that I sleep better with other people around (it used to be just the opposite), so perhaps the timing is good on this.
I've just learned that one of my (step)daughters commented to my son that it feels like I'm erasing her dad from the house, so I've got to work on that perception. He is everywhere for me, and that's a good thing, but apparently the overall feel of the house, rather than the individual items, is what she responds to. Maybe if I write a letter to him describing what I see and how I think the changes honor him, and give it to her to read, she'll understand. I just thought of that while writing to you--I'd almost forgotten how helpful this place is!
It's been 21 months, and I'm just now able to pick up a book and read for pleasure. What's interesting is that I now enjoy reading non-fiction rather than novels. Escape is no longer disappearing into someone else's story--it's time to write my own story. This is the longest that I've been alone in my life, and I"m good with it. This new me, who is a combination of Matt and me and our journey, no longer looks to someone else for validation. I do miss the warmth and support of loving arms around me, but I'm finding that love and support from a spiritual source, and it's good.
What I am fighting is a very deep seated fear of being a caregiver again. I realize that if a loved on needed me that it would just happen and I'd step up, but I think I'm afraid to let anyone else into my circle who may need care before I do. I don't want to be responsible for anyone or anything other than myself, and even that's a struggle. I fantasize about trading in the house for a travel trailer and hitting the road, but for some reason it's just not time yet. Every time I leave this place I find myself thinking that it is too much for me and that I need to downsize, but when I come home I fall in love all over again.
I'll leave you with some pictures from yesterday morning's kayaking in the creek behind the house. Nature is my best medicine. At 21 months it's still a struggle to exit the doors and leave the house, but when I do, nature is my best medicine.