All day yesterday, I was clicking along, cleaning my house, doing shitty little jobs and organizing a few things. (I have some energy now that the dose of my heart pill has been halved). I showered and took the dogs for a ride and bought them cheeseburgers from McDonald's for their supper. We took care of a few errands and stopped at the grocery. I felt good. Not wonderful, but good, and it felt good to get out of the house for a while.
We had been home just about ten minutes when Derek - my helper and handyman - showed up at the back door wanting to know if I needed anything. I had been miffed with him for several weeks because he left me in a lurch just before we went to New Hampshire, but the sight of him and the kindness in his voice, made me almost fall apart. I started crying but managed to blubber out a few jobs I had for him. In modern psychology, there must be a name for this phenomenon.
Why does a friendly face or a kind word make me fall to pieces some times? I know it happens to other people. Right? For the rest of the evening, I was on the verge of tears. I tried to knit but ended up pulling out my work three times, so I gave up on that. I tried editing my poem, but that just made me feel worse. Shit. I hated roller coasters when I was a child, and now here I am, on the roller coaster from hell.
There was more good than bad, though. I had the energy and the creative spirit to start a poem, which I see as a huge step toward being whole again. I lasted most of the day without tears. I can do this.
Today I'm excited because I have a man coming to repair my tabletop fountain I bought in NH. It's copper and just the right size for the spot where I want it to live. Water flows from the half moon onto the lily leaves and onto a bed of smooth stones, not in the photo. The photo doesn't do it justice. I cannot wait to hear it sing to me.