Last night I finally broke down and took some sinus meds before going to bed. Drowsy ones I found in my medicine chest. I woke up groggy (of course) and feeling like I must’ve slept until late afternoon (I didn’t). I’m still groggy, yawning. I’m hoping the coffee will help. All week I’ve felt crappy. And the dreams last night! The frigging dreams! So much walking. And with Nick on a leash everywhere I went. We were at Grammie and Grandad’s in the Rapids. Some sort of family gathering. But not concentrated like the reunion I went to this summer. More scattered. People hanging out with their people all over, from way back in the field to the shore. So you could be alone, you could walk around without everyone knowing. And there was some sort of crime that had gone on, like a theft I think. Someone had been robbed and a few of us knew who had done the robbing, knew it was family, but didn’t want to say and rock the boat. Except someone did say. Someone wrote an anonymous note. And then I was asked to examine the note to see if I could identify the handwriting. And I could. I knew who wrote the note. But I pretended I didn’t know so she wouldn’t get in trouble (Trish, you owe me a thanks!) because they didn’t believe what the note said, didn’t believe they had been robbed by family, and were out to punish the note-writer for being cruel and stirring up trouble. It was an exhausting ordeal that ended with me and Sherry (and Nick on a leash) walking down the hill and heading out toward Blackville and then Barnettville and home. It’s a long walk. I know because I’ve done it before (remember that, carol?) And with a dog on a leash . . . oh boy! Luckily the meds wore off some and I woke before we got too far.
Oh thank God! The coffee seems to kicking in and I’m shaking off the grog. Lots to do today in anticipation of tomorrow’s leave-taking. I need to kick it into overdrive. I don’t return until the 2nd. Blogging might not happen until I return. We shall see. Listening to Christmas music to try and get some spirit back. I had tons of spirit. Tons. Couldn’t wait until the holiday. But I’m fading fast. The more I talk to the people there, the more I get sucked down into the negative vortex that is their exhaustion and worry. Sometimes I just feel like pulling a Cher, slapping everyone upside the head, “SNAP OUT OF IT!” Well not everyone, to be fair. One sister got what could be construed as some pretty bad news (though I choose to believe it’s really a blessing in disguise) and she’s okay, has a good attitude about it. That’s one good thing about living here, maintaining my distance from the negativity, so it doesn’t drag me down, so I don’t feed into it.
There has been progress on that front in recent years. There’s been some development. But in times of stress, old habits are all too easy to slip back into. That’s the test I think. Can you keep the faith in times of stress? Furthermore, can you draw strength from your belief and use it to help you get through, to ease the burden of the stress? My family isn’t there yet. Me neither. Mind you, it’s gotta be pretty big before I run up against the wall. Money doesn’t do it for me. The only thing that got me (I mean REALLY got me) in recent years was my nieces’ diabetes. That got me. Not for very long. But I did get lost during that time. It was a shock. To come up against that wall and find myself blocked. I thought I was more evolved. Maybe I needed to experience that in order for evolution to continue?
Anyway, I may not be able to choose for everyone else to have a good time and enjoy the season, but I can choose for myself. So I’m choosing to have a good Christmas. And I’m hoping that attitude might be reflected back at me.
Listening To: Here Comes Santa Claus, Gene Autry