Weed Warrior Wisdom
Too early for certainty, but this morning finds me suspecting that more repressed memories are emerging. Perhaps memories which have already emerged are integrating? Leaving that mystery be for now. . .
The math adds up that my first exposure to Weed Warrior Wisdom (WWW) was circa 1965. I.F. so, I would have been 10 or 11 years old and gaining my first exposure to the U.S. Suburbs and my first step away from the feral childhood I had chosen in order to avoid the abandoned farm houses my parents had been scotts-hopping from since their flight from their parents when I was about one year old. The fields surrounding those farmhouses felt much, much safer than the family dramas inside those farmhouses.
My first exposure to WWW came while I was running down the suburban street with a bouquet of dandelion seeds. Nothing new. It was one of my favorite child comforts. I fancied the spray of seeds behind me as I ran to be fairy wings which could carry me wherever I wanted to go. My flight of fancy carried me past a perfect(?) lawn whose keeper was hard at work and fairy wings are not what he saw streaming behind me. Girl howdy, that man was scary. I suspect he would have frightened somebody twice his size. A mal-nourished mute girl? ? ? You want me to EXPLAIN? ? ? Psychotic break in progress. . .
This is one of the earliest of the memories to emerge during the amnesia therapy somewhere in the late 80s or early 90s. Again, I am cursing the simple fact that I can neither confirm nor deny this memory, but I have trusted it for a goodly while now.
The fact which has me wondering if my memories are integrating more than emerging came this morning as I pulled unwanted plants from the perimeter of the proposed mechanic bay in the rosy lights of this morning's dawn. Echoes from my psychotherapy puppet show are encouraging me to tread softly. Let the mystery reveal itself in its own speed and means. For certain, my WWW puppet show is even fatter and more rowdy than my Dumb Broad puppet show.
Tiggy is due to get a new windshield later today. The man who is doing the do dropped by to be sure he was ordering the correct windshield was happy dancing over the prospect of replacing the windshield in the proposed mechanic bay instead of a sun-baked driveway or parking lot. His name fits neatly into the cognitive yaddahs of my damaged memory. The Big Bro whose death triggered my flight out of this project in March 2017 goes by the same name.
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Dare I be pleased with the results of letting the proposed mechanic bay be the outer focus of this round of psychopations? With gentle awareness of my well-documented herstory of *delusions of grandeur,* I think a few pats on the back are warranted. This is in danger of being a productively comfy space. When this project began in October, 2016, the old manure piles, rotting hay, etc. were its defining characteristics. I disrupted quite a few nests of mostly unidentified wildlife in the course of moving those. I'm quite certain Persilly could identify every evicted family for me, but. . . Sure wish my dog linguistics were up to asking, but for now, I'll let that mystery be.
When I finally reached the dirt floor under all those piles, I discovered uneven surfaces whose composition was far from easy to identify. I theorate they are a veritable study of first stage rock formation, but my theory isnae very educated and my interest is stillnae adequate for doing the research. So many fields of study and so little time. . . The certainty is that the bottom layers of those piles were tough enough to need a pick ax to break apart and the broken pieces were/are tough as rock. Or is that, "Tough as shale?" This property sits on the southwest corner of the hotly debated exploitation of "The Barnett Shale."
By the time I launched out of here for my funeral pilgrimage, I had set up several experimental tests for organic methods of breaking up those rock-like pieces of the dirt floor. The self-soothing of my rake OCD has been plied to the discovery that the experiments seem to be working. There are still quite allot of ankle twisting pieces in the mix, but most of the floor is now level enough to walk on easily and safely.
Glad you are getting on top of things Arfie. You certainly are a hard worker. I'm glad you didn't find anything scary when you dug down. I cleared a yard once and discovered two mounds of human sized, grave shaped dirt side by side under the rubble and weeds. I was never game enough to dig into them and planted pumpkins on top instead.
I don't care to do the research, but I'd be willing to bet that there are about a kajillion superstitions which hold that you honor the dead when you plant something over them. Today I'm feeling whimsical enough to wonder if planting pumpkins made you some Cinderella's fairy godmother.
Wow, Arfie. That you are processing so much while working hard & continuing to do so is very inspiring and gives me hope. Some of my days when the memories come pouring in while trying to be productive end up a complete bomb.
I’m with you & big hugs Arfie!
Thank you Vltava. I have worked hard for ALLOT of years at learning this technique. The work continues. It was dismally far from a natural evolution in my life.
"Over-compensating" is one of the psych symptoms which has received much formal therapy in my personal herstory. My latest name for the action part of that psychosis is, "Busying Out" where I keep myself too busy to acknowlege, much less process the yaddahs of whatever psycho blahs I am in denial of. It is yet another case of a good thing carried to destructive extremes. It starts with standing ovations for my outstanding valor in *getting the jobs done*. The fatal flaws are flaunting their presence long before I collapse from sheer exhaustion. I have zero doubt that associates from as far back as elementary school are still telling tales of those fatal flaws. It is one of the many places where the psychotherapy goal was to train the symptom rather than *cure* it. Keeping myself busy while mindfully leaving room for the processing and self-care does seem to be a rocking combo.
Thank you for the validation, Vltava. I think I did well in this round, but the story isn't over yet. Works in progress. . .
I wish you the best of luck as the work continues, Arfie. I physically did a bit weeding today as I’m attempting to educate my youngest in the fine art of yard work. Not much processing, just trying to reign in “perfectionism” as there’s always that nagging little “voice” noticing a spot here or there when likely I’m the only one seeing it. Fortunately I had my very “aware” child letting me know that I was going down the “overboard” path & we were able to keep things to “good enough”.
“Overcompensating” is a very familiar path for me, so I can empathize & I really like your term of “busying out”. I definitely have done that frequently, & I’m definitely one for overdoing things to long past collapsing. It’s a big source of frustration for my husband & children but I’m gradually learning to find the balance & your experiences really are helping with it.
Wishing you continued progress, healing, strength & definitely some extra boosts of energy, followed by nice rejuvenating rest.
All the best to you Arfie! Hugs!!