Monday Morning Drag and the Scent of Fall
Mondays, can you believe it? They still are a bit of a challenge, depending upon the season. Fall is one of the most beautiful seasons and the colors are so dazzling and vibrant. The heat of my home is cozy and warm. The sunshine makes fall spectacular. Football. Packers. Chili. Hanging with my son or friends. Maybe even a cold beer or Bloody Mary while watching the game. Ooooh, and my fall sweaters. My fabulous finds! In the depths of summer with sweltering temps, the prettiest and most expensive sweaters can be found tucked away on sale racks for pennies. Then I get to pull them out of their bags, rip the tags off and don a pretty knit. It's so much fun! I love Fall.
But my body remembers and I have to work to shake off the anxiety and sadness. Life is not bad now, but my body thinks it is. My body thinks I'm sad and lonely and that my husband has left me and I'm sick about it still. I'm not sick about it. But my body is acting like it is. My stomach hurts. The wind, blowing through the leaves in Door County, whispers, “He left you. He left you with a young child, 2 years old. He loves someone else. You're not loved. Your dreams are over. You lost. You are grieving.”
I'm not truly going through that. And I shake it off. I shake it off hard. And I think, “I want to go home.” A part of me panics. “I need to go home. Something is happening there, something bad and I have to go back to Milwaukee.” Perhaps this is part of PTSD.
Whatever it is, I don't like it and I wish it would stop. I'm not sure how to make it stop. I want to enjoy the fall. There's so much loss in the fall I can't begin to transcend it sometimes. My mother passed away on September 15th. My father's open-heart surgery. My father coming to the cottage and all the fun times we had, those are gone now too. He is a tortured soul ravaged with dementia — and no, I'm not a good daughter for bringing him up there with us this past weekend.
It's almost 9 am, and as soon as I publish this, I'll set my mind for a day of work.
Have you lost anyone in the fall? Have your children set off for college in the fall? Do the leaves rustling rattle you? Or do they feel wonderful? Are you ready for some football? Is life good?
Andrea
But my body remembers and I have to work to shake off the anxiety and sadness. Life is not bad now, but my body thinks it is. My body thinks I'm sad and lonely and that my husband has left me and I'm sick about it still. I'm not sick about it. But my body is acting like it is. My stomach hurts. The wind, blowing through the leaves in Door County, whispers, “He left you. He left you with a young child, 2 years old. He loves someone else. You're not loved. Your dreams are over. You lost. You are grieving.”
I'm not truly going through that. And I shake it off. I shake it off hard. And I think, “I want to go home.” A part of me panics. “I need to go home. Something is happening there, something bad and I have to go back to Milwaukee.” Perhaps this is part of PTSD.
Whatever it is, I don't like it and I wish it would stop. I'm not sure how to make it stop. I want to enjoy the fall. There's so much loss in the fall I can't begin to transcend it sometimes. My mother passed away on September 15th. My father's open-heart surgery. My father coming to the cottage and all the fun times we had, those are gone now too. He is a tortured soul ravaged with dementia — and no, I'm not a good daughter for bringing him up there with us this past weekend.
It's almost 9 am, and as soon as I publish this, I'll set my mind for a day of work.
Have you lost anyone in the fall? Have your children set off for college in the fall? Do the leaves rustling rattle you? Or do they feel wonderful? Are you ready for some football? Is life good?
Andrea
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