Therapy Goal VIII
Again I wish for a clear finish line in the Therapy Goals. Maybe a blood test to provide definitive proof that the illness has run its course? An x-ray which proves the calming of neural pathways? Just wishing. . .
Back here in the real world, Tiggy's recovery was my arbritrary marker for processing this round of psychopations. I picked him up from the body shop on Wednesday. He looks like a young gelding again, despite the pockets of accumulated crud which continue revealing themselves in his interior. He still needs tire rotation and balancing, as well as the state inspection, etc. That *should* be a one-stop routine.
Comparitively speaking, this has been a busy, intensely social week for me. A 21st century busy person might call the intensity levels of this week, "Vacation," but keeping it strictly personal, it was far fuller than my average week in recent years. My thoughts and emotions feel balanced and stable this morning, as they have in recent days. Gut knots are still there, but appetite solid. Of all my psych symptoms, the gut knots are always the slowest to recover. Time to call ^it^?
I remain ambivelant about whether to trust the developments here at the in-law investment property or head back to the River Region on my own. Hubs is slated to begin working remotely on Monday which, theoretically, frees him up for participation in the world beyond his corporate campus, but I'm still not holding my breath. Busy habits are even harder to break than simple vices.
Sitting with ^it^. Time for sunrise guit-chi in the big barn.
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Trust in the progress here is coming hard. I can barely stand the thought of returning to the Urban Homestead any more and the grown-up yaddahs of those blahs remain compassionately undefined. I have plenty of mean-spirited rhetoric to throw at ^it^ but the kindness and compassion are my most trusted sign that I have found a healing path. It shouldn't hurt to be honest. The most compassionate summary I have for the intricate weave of the five adult dramas there is that I havenae felt a comfort zone with ^it^ since my children started shaving. Add in the delights of navigating the continued boomage of one of the world's premiere tourist traps and. . . Does I really HAVE to go there? For certain, I don't *want* to. Let the newbies have it. The town where I raised my children has long since been paved over by all that progress.
Add in all the unknown variables on the co-owner side of this family investment property and my PTSD baggage of having been the white trash resident of uncounted farms similar to this one and it doesn't seem like much of a surprise that trust is coming hard.
Still. . . The potentials are many. This place really is an herbal wonderland and I am quite thrilled by the results of some of the observations and experiments I have been working in that arena. The building renovations I have worked on behalf of hubby's bee biz have felt optimistic. I think. There we go on that trust issue again. Who knows what the boss is saying behind my back?