Category Archives: challenges

We’re both shaken up

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“Happiness is a warm puppy.” ~ Charles M Schulz

~~

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I have had the pleasure of sharing my life with this beautiful creature for the past 8 1/2 years.  She has been my companion and my confidant without question.  Last night she had her second seizure in exactly six months to the day.  I must admit I handled this one much better than the first but it is still a very traumatic event.

It is a horrible sensation to feel helpless, unable to control what is happening to the one living thing that has given me unconditional love since we first laid eyes on each other.  The only thing I could offer her in the moment of her worst distress was the return of my unconditional love.

I remembered to remain calm.  I kept her out of harms way as her body remained rigid under the gentle touch of my hand.  Once the sound of my voice could be heard again, she began to relax.

You don’t have to have a child to feel like a mother.  I lay in bed after she finally went to sleep, hyper-vigilant to the point that I remained awake for hours after the event.  I listened for any odd sound in her breathing and for any strange noise similar to the commotion that originally alerted me to the seizure at the beginning.  Once I did drift into slumber, any unfamiliar discord woke me with a slight panic but the puppy continued to snore softly in her bed.

This morning, she is the same puppy in a dog’s body.  She is full of energy, eager for her walk and her treats and acting happily like nothing ever happened.

We see the vet in a few days and fingers crossed we get a relatively clean bill of health.  I’m not ready to imagine my life waking up and not seeing that face.

The passage of time

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clock and butterfly

Second hands tick,

the incessant sound of time passing

yet, time seems to stand still.

 What feels like a year,

is simply a collection of days,

falling into a pattern of weeks.

The metronome of life

chimes steadily in my head,

gently reminding me

how slowly time can pass.

But time marches on

and, even though it feels like an eternity,

the perpetual movement of time

always pushes forward.

~~

(image credit)

There’s a nap for that

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Most days our time is spent on routine tasks.  We get up, we have coffee, we prepare ourselves (and possibly a family) for the approaching day and we leave the house, or not, with confidence as we anticipate the next eight to twelve hours of our lives.  It seems like a standard operating procedure.

But life has a way of throwing a myriad number of curve balls into our otherwise predictable strike zone.  It can be exhausting trying to anticipate what is coming next.  By 3:00 pm, the wall looms directly ahead and we plow right into it.

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There is much to be said for getting to the point in your life that admitting an afternoon nap is acceptable.  It doesn’t make us old, it makes us smart.  If you can afford yourself a bit of a break, a 2o-minute power snooze has been proven to boost your energy level, your cognitive skills, your creativity and your memory.

So the next time your boss catches you catching some z’s at your desk, you can simply tell that executive figure that you are clearly increasing your productivity in the workplace.

How do you feel about an afternoon siesta?

 

It’s all over

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My dad was a staunch believer in always giving 100 percent effort.  His mantra played over and over in my head every time I wrote a test in school and every time I had to put any form of exertion into a task.

Somewhere along my journey through this life, that chant of success began to increase in volume and unwittingly seeped into every other aspect of my life.  Sometimes it felt good and other times it felt more like punishment.

I began to take most things to a new level.  And going overboard on simple achievements was just the beginning.  Realizing I couldn’t attain perfection led me into a pattern of over-eating.

When the over-eating became much more noticeable, I began to over-analyze and over-think everything about the problem instead of just recognizing it for what it was and dealing with it head on.

overthinking

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Of all the things I do with the utmost intensity, over-thinking is the worst of them.  I cannot seem to let what will be just be.  My brain configures numerous scenarios, all with different outcomes, and will not stop when it should be satisfied.  There is always another possibility.  This is a fantastic gift to have when I am writing fiction but, when it comes to creating plot lines based on my reality, it is a detriment to normal productivity.

I expend a great effort each day to quell those thoughts.  I could take an issue so benign and have it twisted into something so distorted from its original form that it becomes a gnarled version of what it once was and something so far removed from what it ever should be.  If I could ever transfer these thoughts to pages of a novel, it would be quite the story.

For now, I will wait out the current situation that has me over-thinking.  I will listen to those little voices as they churn out ending after ending but when I reach the point that I eventually find out what will really happen, the wait will be over.

 

 

 

 

Spark to a flame

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fire butterfly

My curiosity ignites.

My burning question is nourished

purely by the fuel of my deep desire

to know,

to experience,

to feel the brush of romance

on the canvas that is my skin.

My heart burns

with a yearning

to find you.

~~

microstories261

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One voice above the crowd

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I was in a funk, a genuine textbook-defined funk, and I had given myself permission to wallow in it.  I disregarded my routinely sage advice to take it one breath at a time.  I blatantly ignored my history of dealing with things head on and I became a turtle, pulling my head into my shell and hoping the scenery would somehow look different the next time my face emerged from that shell.

But each time I gave myself the slightest courage to see if the landscape of my reality had changed, my eyes blurred and my vision became marred by a new set of tears. I promptly pulled myself back in to my shell.

Friends and family picked up on the noticeable difference in the cadence of my voice.  I became lost in a miserable state of unhappiness and my writing began to reflect my mood.  Fellow bloggers also left encouraging messages in the comments of my blogs but, although I knew I was being irrational, I couldn’t stop crying.

Life has a funny way of interjecting when it needs to bring something to your attention.  My funk may have been based on something that could be defined as trivial in the grand scheme of things, but it really affected me to the point of becoming consumed with pessimistic thoughts that I can usually push aside with ease.

I knew I couldn’t change the cards I had been dealt, but one particular comment from a fellow blogger really made me rethink how my hand could play out.  I read it a few times until I was able to fully process the message and understand its true significance.

In my melancholy, I had forgotten to give equal value to the potential of a positive outcome as opposed to focusing solely on the negative.  I had all but conceded to the loss without allowing myself a chance for a win.

One comment, from someone I have never met in person, changed my outlook.  I am no longer dwelling on what could be an unfavorable outcome but giving every hope that something fantastic may be just around the corner.  Since I cannot predict the future, I can only wait to see what the outcome will be but at least, now, I wait with much more hope than I had before.

 

A single wish

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The glow burned my eyes but I couldn’t take my gaze from its mesmerizing emanation.  It stood like a sentinel, guarding my emotion.  Although it was a single flame, that lone candle represented the one person I wished was here with me.

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Felonious felines

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If the pungent stench hadn’t first assaulted my senses, the tiny footprints in the remnants of snow on my deck would have led me to believe that a small feline intruder had been in my entrance way and left its fluidic calling card.

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I am no stranger to the repugnant smell of cat pee.  I have suffered before and was doing it again as the essence of the foul beast breached the sanctity of my nasal passages and made its way into my throat.  Before my morning vision had even the slightest chance of coming into focus the very solemnity of my home, as well as my olfactory nerves, had been violated by my neighbor’s cat.

Now, before you judge me on the basis of these words, I do not dislike cats.  I appreciate their ability to be detached yet affectionate.  I admire their commitment to their sense of self.  And I applaud their propensity to be indifferent and intrigued at the same time.

That being said, I do take offence to a four-legged creature of the non-canine variety befouling a room in which it has no business being present.  Cats do not, and will not, live in my home.  Allergic reactions aside, I have a colored past with these anciently domesticated beings and, in putting my differences aside, I have come to the realization that we make better strangers than friends.

I have repeatedly admonished my dog for wanting to run into the neighbor’s yard when she sees this territorial interloper, but I have since rethought my initial position.  My dog is merely protecting the rightful place that is her shelter.  She is simply defending her home against enemies, feral or domestic.  And she is attempting to preserve my nose from the offensive fragrance of future feline fearlessness.