Tracking - Paradigm Shift

Tracking and memory checks are among my therapy tools. It isnae likely I acquired the tools under those names but I learned them during therapy for my Trauma Induced Amnesia. Very few of my traumatic memories can be either confirmed or denied. Given the geophysical instability of my childhood, even the locations of the traumas are hard to pinpoint. The tracking helps me sort the riff from the raff in the etherreal world of suppressed memory. The memory checks help me determine how reliable my memory is on any given day. Available memory is much harder to check in the bio-drives of our brains than it is on our digital hardware.

Today's tracking exercise is on the Beekeeper's Allergy. The good news is that these memories can be verified.

Let the tracking begin:

23 February 2012

3 March 2014

30 May 2015

5 June 2015

14 April 2016



Hubs and I had our most productive bee talk yet since the bee mobbing which created my beekeeper's allergy. Fall 2014? I still havenae tracked the day the mobbing happened, but it doesn't feel terribly important to this tracking. For now, my only goal is to feel safe talking about ^it^ with the love of my life. At present that dialog is confined to my silently working therapy tools while I listen to his latest bee buzz. His bee biz really has taken off like a bullet. He has lots and lots of detailed bee reports to offer. Attempts to discuss my own perspectives only make the love of my life look like my FIL. Don't go there. Just take the silver platter offerings and let it bee. They don't need to know what you do with the silver platter offerings when they are not looking. Fiction allowed.

Methinks the trigger for this current romp through unpleasant days gone by is Hubby's current plans to place hives on the co-owned ranch property. I am stillnae included in the dialog on the co-owner agreement which brought a screeching halt to the projects there, if there is a dialog going there, at all. It isnae mine to sort, but I suspect hubs is moving ahead without clear agreement from his brother and I am leery of the explosive dynamics. There are incredible amounts of shrapnel created in silver platter explosions. History is chock full of those stories. They have justified many a war. Hubby's silver platter isnae big enough to hold a State, but the shrapnel is still pretty intense. It is bigger than most of the Kingdoms in the Bible.

The current planning for this year's hive expansion includes ES and his wife tending the hives on the property. The flashbacks to events surrounding the bee mobbing are intense. Same silver platter, new generation? Prayers in progress. . .

"Feeling safe talking about ^it^" has long been my mantra in expanding the dialog between Hubs and I on subjects which have traditionally triggered vicious rounds of domestic Tit-for-Tat between us. Yesterday's expansion was two-fold.

1) The mobbing happened. The resulting allergy matters in my approach to HIS bee biz.

2) My strictly personal relationship with bees is far older than my relationship with him. I don't need to tell my stories while he is strutting his stuff, but I don't believe I need to hide them, either. I have even met official beekeepers who enjoy hearing them.

He fessed up that he feels tremendous guilt over the mobbing and resulting allergy and agreed that his guilt is the source of the egg-shell waltz we have been doing around the bee biz ever since. He allowed for the possibility that it really was part of my long-running dialog between me and bees. I translated the mobbing as, "This is NOT what we trained you for!" I got your point, respected friends.

Can that be translated into silver platter sensibilities?