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Category Archives: fear of help

Here I am again, second time in a week, I think this is the most progress I’ve made in some time -two postings in a week, that is.

So, first, a word about these posts, I’ve said it a while ago, when I began posting, but I feel it is worth reiterating: This is not a literary post, per-say. I edit only in a cursory fashion, and do my best to write in a somewhat visceral fashion, post pictures if I have them, and post in a projectile-puke-and-run sort of way. I say this to remind myself not to be too harsh on myself as I go back and re-read with editing eyes, but also to keep any other readers focused on the main point of this darned blog. I am just to make progress with hoarding, and stuff and the issues around hoarding, more than with writing here, and if I give in to my type a-ish traits (which believe me, play a strangely large role in all of this for me) and over think/over edit I won’t get any writing/sorting/tossing done, or certainly much less. Having said that, thank you for being kind with me linguistically and literarily. I actually do know how to write/edit etc., but that is not my primary purpose here . . .

I have just got off of the phone with my step-mom (Thank you, again Cin!). She is going to help me, this weekend, to go through Gran’s linen closet and decide what to keep, what to send with her, what to get rid of … Some of the things in there are already mine, but I haven’t sorted out what’s what. She is also going to take down Gran’s string of cards with me, as well as taking home Gran’s rose china and some other stuff. Essentially, she allowing me to give myself permission to be here, to settle in and unpack, and admit that this is where life is, and what it is, which, for once in an anguishingly long time is not a miserable thing.

I am struggling with worthiness, and faith in plenty, not even mostly on a physical level, but am ready to get on with it, and to find my place in my own life. There are great pits of sorrow that are waiting to be trolled, but I believe there will also be wells of hope and memories that can bring balance and recognition of worth and renewal of faith, not just in life-the-universe-and-everything, but in myself as well.

In the meantime, I believe I will focus on the kitchen which currently contains some gigante canvases that I, for some reason unbeknownst to me am storing there, as well as cupboards full of food that are older than I am, and possibly even older than my dad.

There are no pictures today, as my daughter has my phone so she can call me when she is done at the movies, and my camera batteries have been temporarily enveloped by The Stuff.

Stuff, Stuff, Stuff! No wonder one of my favorite words is cosas (“stuff” in Spanish) very useful in so many settings, hee hee!

I did deal with the stuff in the back of the truck. sorted into recycling and trash and is waiting curbside now, so WAHOO to that.

Also, a lovely aside. I went to a friend’s house today and she had just read my blog for the first time. She told me she wanted to take me out to her garage so I would feel better. I always doubt people when they tell me about their stuff. In any event, It did make me feel better, not because her stuff is worse than mine, or better, but just that it is stuff and that she is trying to deal with it. Seeing her disheveled side didn’t make me care for her any less, I wonder why it has that effect for me regarding myself. Hmmm… I will begin to look at the inverse of the golden rule, and not just the straight shot of it. I suppose I deserve the same chance I give to others.

Okay, enough typing, off to work. I will check in later on in the weekend.

Lastly,time for a happy picture up-date after that darn fuzzy-headed stern one from last fall. The hair is making a comeback.  ; )

Here I am feeling terribly happy, down right sunny. Portent (in the very best possible terms of the word)of things to come, with any luck.

Sunny Day in Fort Bragg

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Tools for Planning

I’m not sure where to begin, and I guess that is, in large part the point. I have been feeling lost for a long time. feeling as if I were floating, adrift in a sea of stuff, of ideas and theories, of “what-ifs”. I realized, recently it was in large part to the fact that my schedule and any sense of regularity with in it has been none existent since before my back surgery. It has been deteriorating since I moved here, and in truth, it really only consisted of “work”, and “not work” prior to moving here. I’ve rarely if ever scheduled in fun or relaxing, and have avoided home, not my children, just home, as much as possible. This has not been conscious, but I have been becoming aware of how uncomfortable my home makes me, where ever it may be, since I’ve been bound to this chair.

The first step of getting myself pulled together, and on track is finding and using a good planner. If I had my way, and enough excess cash I would have a PDA, then I could schedule my life, Gran’s life, my kids lives, take notes on writing thoughts and meetings, post to my blog if I felt really compelled, all from one small hand-held device (if it had wireless capability) but enough dreaming. I got myself a birthday present. The beautiful orange planner pictures above. It has times slots from 7 am until 8 pm on one side n lovely graph paper for notes, planning, sketching, planning out a room, whatever, on the other. See below:

Inside this year's planner

My friend Molly came over yesterday and helped me find the edges of sanity. We took some things back over to Gran’s and made a path, a physical one that led to a psychological one. She talked me through a lot of garbage in my head, and moved things for me that I am not capable of at the moment. I even donated a very well liked rocking chair to the thrift store. As much as I like it, the rice cooker was sitting in it more than we were. Speaking of the rice cooker, I may very well get rid of that too and find a pot with a lid that fits well instead.

The path we made helped me move forward in quite a few ways. More about that tomorrow!