Deconstruction has begun .... decorations coming down, cleared spots once again filled with the clutter of daily living. I was really quite pleased (and proud) with how things looked; I seem to have developed a bit of skill in being creative (multi-colored Christmas tree balls in glass vases looked somewhat elegant). My "tree" (hard to describe) looked good and Elizabeth (God child #3, in order of appearance in this blog, but not necessarily in order of appearance in my heart)took a picture of it and sent it to me - wish I had a clue as to how to add it to this blog. If I figure it out, I'll attach it later (probably to a blog celebrating the summer solstice but better late than never?).
Started the above yesterday and for some reason couldn't get into continuing with, or finishing, it. Truth be told, when I have nothing to stress about, I let depression take the place of stress. When getting ready for my two Christmases, I was up and down the stairs time after time, bringing decorations down, moving things upstairs to make room, going to the store numerous time to get what I'd forgotten the last time, setting the table, getting ready to make dinner, etc., etc., etc.
After the fact has been a whole different story. It took me two hours to get a cup of coffee made and all the decorations are packed up, but they remain downstairs. The 10 trips I made easily to bring everything down seem impossible to make going in the opposite direction.
Oh, well - I've got until Monday (before the stress begins once again by going back to work). Hopefully, I can accomplish something between now and then (5 and a half days should be sufficient).
I was scheduled to go to Foxwoods yesterday, staying through tomorrow. At the last minute I decided not to go because I really don't have the money to lose (which, let's face it, is the pretty much guaranteed result), especially if I want to do the two-week Alaska cruise in May. I know I did the right thing (ugh - the "grown up" thing) by not going, but I really wish I had.
Foxwoods (or any casino, I guess) is a dangerous place for someone who feels lonely, has an addictive personality and misses the highs and lows that used to make up her life, the life which is now a pretty straight line which most would say is a good thing. But for most of my life I was either soaring or crashing and while I don't really miss the terrible lows, I do miss the roller coaster ride, the excitement.
Foxwoods fills all the needs. You win big, you lose big. You are by no means alone, or if you are, you are alone with 1,000 other people who are also alone. Or you are one of a great group of like-minded people. There is no sense of time and your mind goes blank. My first trip to Foxwoods was two weeks after 9/11. For some reason, there was no one to hang out with that weekend and being alone, remembering and anticipating "what was next," seemed more than I could handle. That's when I learned that being caught up in gambling, combined with not sleeping, does shut your mind off. So, I'm missing the release that being there would have given me. Being an adult about things really sucks.
Are any of you (if there are any of you) bored with all of this yet? I would think you would be. I'm still trying to learn what blogging is all about. So far it feels like journaling which is a good thing, but doing it publicly is wierd. However, if it gets me fairly faithfully journaling then it is a good thing, personally at least.
Before I sign off for today, let me tell you about me and journaling. In my heart and mind I know it is one of the most important things you can do. It clears the mind, it resolves some issues, it retains memories and it's just a good exercise in trying to get past some issues, or to reach for some others. There is no young person in my life who I do not say "you must keep a journal," and I explain to them, rather well, I think, why it's so important.
My #3 god child (again only #3 for purposes of this blog) has always kept a journal, and her sister (they are both nieces and children of my heart) has always kept one, beginning with one she kept with her first boyfriend when they were in prep school together. As they grew older I envied them their journaling discipline, and almost on a daily basis I would resolve to begin tomorrow.
Since that time it is not an exageration to say that I have purchased or been gifted with more than 50 (possibly closer to 100) journals. In my head, I think I believed that if I just had the right journal, the journaling would begin. I have on occasion, for brief periods of time, kept a journal. On trips, I often do. And then, just from time to time, for no particular reason I do. I have on my shelves many journals with the first 30, 20 or 3 pages full ... followed by blank page after page.
While I was not journaling I would long for journals that could fill in gaps surrounding some of the most important times of my life. What would I give today for a journal of my time in Haiti - definitely the most important and wonderful time of my life. My eight years with Joe would make for extremely interesting and revealing reading. Giving up my daughter, losing my brother, moving to East Hampton to get married, breaking up in East Hampton, so much, much more. So many times and thoughts and feelings lost to memory. So sad.
The reality of the fact that for some reason I was never going to maintain an on-going journal was the day I purchased a book, "How to Keep a Journal." When I told that to my shrink, she just looked at me and said, "How could I not love you," which I took to be a "you're pathetic" comment.
But here I am blogging, which feels very much like journaling.
Going to make one of the first of many trips lugging things upstairs. I'd like to have that all done today.
If you're out there, thanks for sticking with me. If you're not, then thanks www.blogger.com for this journaling opportunity.
Bye for now ...............