From the Campfire

Lake Vesuvius National Park

Monday, 12 June 2017

Less than a week until I pick up Hubs from the train station in Alton, Illinois. “Business as usual” might be the clearest tag I have for the anxiety which has been awash in me since I left Kanawha State Park four days ago. “Housewife” is what I put on official forms, when I must, but the job description is so obscure that too often feel dysfunctional and/or abused. “Do whatever the fuck you are told whenever you are told and nothing else” is the job description I received from ES. I think. I amnae confident of the quote. Hubs waxes poetically vague on the subject of my empty, confused hours. I might summarize his job description for housewife as, “Someday.”

I miss my grandkids something fierce but I feel mightily uncomfortable with my place in their parent’s lives. Financing their independent family life is an on-going stress and babysitting on their whimsical schedule adds an uncomfortable strain to the relationships with the children.

Can I count the in-laws as family? Can Hubs count his in-laws as family? We havenae done well at crossing the Socio-economic Divide between our branches of the family tree. Aside from my two sons and best beloved sis, I havenae been a frequent visitor anywhere in my tree. I sit now with time on my hands, near to more blood family than I can count and . . . Experiencing paralysis at the thought of making contact. I can barely count my own blood as family, much less in-laws. I be far from certain about any of the mysteries of family.

Tuesday, 13 June 2017

Early morning thunder prompted me to pack, but the thunder has rumbled on with no rain so far. Avoiding rain is my only motivation to hurry. The morning bird concert and tree covered hillside invite me to stay. ?Por que no?

Guit-chi has been positively ragged since the start of the anxiety attack. No surprise there. I often believe that anxiety is the most vicious demon in my psycho baggage car. When I discuss anxiety within groups, I also believe it is the most contagious emotion in the human spectrum. I subscribe to the theory that sensitivity to that contagion is part of the pack/herd/hive instinct. It is how one member of a collective can warn the entire collective into rapid mobilization at the first sign of danger. Alas, the current human collective can find as much threat in a news report from another continent as it can from a rabid dog in its face.

The Wabash River is my most actionable thought of the morning. Its headwaters are north and a bit west of where I now sit. Think I will head north via another tributary to the Ohio River, the Scioto River. Still plying psychotherapy tools for the anxiety. It takes what it takes.