Daylight Confusion Time
I started this morning with the psycho nag flag of waking up too early and unable to get back to sleep. Deep, calming breaths. I got up and started my morning rituals. The therapy journal portion of my morning ritual typically begins on my second cup of coffee. As I clicked my way to the beginning of this entry, it clicked in my still charging grey matter. Daylight Confusion Time did its thing this past weekend. My body clock doesn't reset as easily as my internet controlled clocks. Onward through the chaos. . .
I am still praying *just* to piss off the Atheist Daddy flashbacks, but Pimp Sis went back into her psychic cubby with relative ease. My involvement with her two daughters and abandoned son gave me allot more processing power than the Therapy Funeral which marked the beginning of my estrangement from the parental units in August, 1977. I pray often for the 3 of her children I know about and any others she left along the way. The woman seemed able to get pregnant off a toilet seat. It seems entirely possible she had more abortions than weddings. No, I don't care to do the research. Healing hopes for all. No exceptions.
The three day weekend with Hubs was hopeful, but I find myself dreading the return to isolation when he leaves for his internet security workshop in a few hours. The workshop is *only* an hour drive from here, but that is an hour of Boom City Traffic. Is there a higher stress traffic on the global by-ways. The traffic from the sleeper communities popping up like wetland mushrooms in this shrinking cattle community to the work centers tends to be downright hostile on my nerves. Zoomity zoom zoom. Get ye on ahead, oh zoomy one. Faster is better for getting you gone. Hubs will spend the week in an inter-city hotel, walking distance from the workshop. I will miss you, my wise one.
Still, the isolation willnae be so complete this week. The crews installing the doors and windows on the honey barn will be here for at least two of the days. I am as excited as a bridezilla showing off her newest diamond. I sure hope the doors and windows match the cinder block stairs I finished last week. Hubs was impressed. Not so much as a wiggle when he bounced his former athelete mass across them. Score one for the beaten crazy bitch wolf!!!
My gut knots are still pretty intense. Still saluting all nag flags.
Replies
three cheers for the putting away of the sis, and for the solid grounding with her chiclets, known and unknown. You do seem able to grind the isolation and hubs situation into manageability. I'm always inspired to try going forward in my own healing journey when I visit you on yours , arfie. Thanks for the inspiration and for the simple "even though our ^^its^^ are different, at least we know we are not the only ones with them.
Group support is a blessing and sometimes a blessed curse (those dang ever evolving ever learning triggers, which knock on wood, I haven't had in a bit of a while).
triple hugs of support as you migrate along in healing too.
Thank you, Dreamer. I feel quasi-confident that I am managing the isolation and relations with my favorite busy bee reasonably well. Prayers in progress. Still indulging in wishes that it was as easy as it looks from a distance, but. . . One foot in front of the other.
I only wish there was solid grounding between myself and any of the chicjlets from any of my ten siblings or the chicklets of the chicklets. I have siblings who are in great-grandparent country. The best I can claim there is, "Prayers in progress."
In the Druid lore passed on by my drunken father, we are asking the blessing of the wood spirits when we knock wood. I knock my own head to, "Knock wood." No splinters yet. . . Proof irrelevant, but I think Woden, itself, might have answered the knock once or thrice.
With you Arfie & agree with Evergreen. You are always a continuous source of inspiration and so often it for me is miraculous relatable to what I’ve been going through!
My body is likewise having issues resetting the old internal clocks. My husband realizing after I went to bed last night that he mixed up his schedule and waking me a 2 something this morning to let me know as he dashed off on another week long business trip hasn’t helped either.
Lots of love, hugs & support, Arfie!
When do we get access to all this daylight we've been saving?
Sigh. . .
Good question Arfie! Where are they storing all of it? I could certainly use those extra hours they’re saving.
I hear they are storing it at Fort Clocks. Wanna storm the ramparts? Split the booty 50-50? We'll be the richest women on Earth.