Sunday, February 22, 2015

Not An Easy Day

Well, I hear that there's some big awards show on tonight. That's the rumor, anyway.
I really have no idea who should win anything because I'm not sure I've seen but two of the movies nominated in any way. Grand Budapest Hotel and, well- was St. Vincent's nominated for anything?

I'm sure I could find out the answer in about two seconds if I only cared to look.

One of my favorite things about awards shows is the running commentary my friend Billy makes on Facebook. It's usually far more entertaining than the actual events. But honestly- I'll be lucky if I watch more than an hour of the show or read all of Billy's commentaries tonight.
It's been a bit of a difficult day for me and I have withdrawn into myself quite tightly and the idea of going to bed and sleeping under my covers even with the crazy bad dreams I've been having is a pretty enticing thought.

Until then, I'm cooking a big pot of greens from the garden with tomatoes and onions and I'm going to make a meatloaf and bake some potatoes. Food which is easy to make, easy to eat.

It was cathartic for me to today to read that article by Matt Haig and I read another article which made me laugh quite literally out loud. It is by Dave Barry and is about Fifty Shades of Gray, which I have not read.

I laughed. I cried. I cried some more.

I potted up a few of my rooted giant begonias today. I swept porches and watered plants. I spoke on the phone to Lily, to May, to Sarcastic Bastard. I spoke in person to my neighbor and of course, to my husband who really does not know what to do with me in this state. He is so kind and asks over and over if I need him to do anything. To take me somewhere for an outing, to stick close. I tell him no, I am fine, and I am. That I only need him to come home when he is done running errands and I am telling the truth and he does.
Last night I kept waking up and it was such a comfort to me to hear his soft snoring. I am the monster snorer in this house and I admit it, his snores more gentle. Maurice slept on my feet all night and I would hope she does so again. Night before last she stayed out until two when she knocked on the window above where I sleep and meowed and I let her in and fussed at her as if she'd been a teenager, out past curfew, worrying her mama.

The meatloaf and the potatoes are in the oven. The greens are simmering on the back of the stove. Tomorrow I have to go to my nurse practitioner to get bloodwork done for my hormone replacement thingees. She is trying out a new form of delivery for them, a grain inserted under the skin. I may try it. Who knows? But of course any visit to a medical practitioner makes me hugely anxious. And I have to call the dermatologist about two little places on my shoulder which are really nothing but don't go away. Are these tiny things the source of the anxiety I feel? Or is it just an accumulation of it all? Perhaps it is nothing but the time of year, the pull of the moon, the exact distance the sun measures from the earth. Perhaps it is the anniversary of the deaths of so many people I love. The hangover of worry about Mr. Moon's surgery. My fear that I am not taking enough care, spending enough attention on each of my beloved children. Dovey's death? Being at Kathleen's yesterday to do a little animal tending while Bug is out of town?
Who knows?
Not me.
I just know that it will pass.

The little anoles are skittering about again. The frogs are calling again. In LA the limos are lining up to deliver our own unique American form of royalty to walk down the red carpet to be judged on dress, on jewelry, on hair, on thinness.

Shit. I'll probably have to get on a scale tomorrow. I will be told that it is time to repeat all of my bloodwork. That is time to get another colonoscopy. Oh, to be eighty and know that none of these things is really necessary any more. Which is a very sad thing to say, if you think about it.

Perhaps one of these days I will find a practitioner with whom I can feel comfortable. Compassionate and who really listens and does not suggest that all of my problems could be solved with supplements and perhaps hypnosis by an eighty-something year old man who creeps the shit out of me.
Is this too much to ask?

Perhaps it is.

At least I will see my boys again tomorrow which is such a pure and perfect thing. And May might possibly come out to visit. And of course there is bed and my husband and my cat and the sweet balmy air which I will open the window to tonight.

Let us have sweet dreams, dreams that represent the sweetness in our hearts and minds which is, despite all evidence to the contrary, very much still there, no matter what.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. We can know full well that it will pass but it doesn't make it any easier. Even if you are only affected 10 % of the time it doesn't make the 90 % any easier.

    “The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”

    ― Frazer Hines

  2. Sorry, that should have read,
    Even if you are well 90 % of the time it doesn't make the 10% any easier.

    I too am looking forward to bed tonight. It isn't even 6:00 and I am thinking about getting into a hot bath then into my pyjamas.

    I love you, Ms. Moon.

  3. It's been a rough weekend here too: anxiety miasma out of the blue and hell, there's nothing to do but wait until it leaves.

    When I'm at the doctor, I always tell them to weigh me and NOT tell me the number. I face away from the scale. It helps, a little. My aunt also used to tell me to sing a song REALLY LOUD during the awkward/anxiety inducing/painful parts. My old midwife,whom I adored and whose children I had as students, was totally okay with me singing The Wheels On the Bus at the top of my lungs. And, though visiting the new midwife here wasn't all that successful, I did crack myself up imagining what that fancy office and no-nonsense midwife would have done if I'd broken into song during my pap smear.

    Love from Portland, Ms. Moon.

  4. Hugs to you and thanks for the article.

  5. Yeah. To all of it. Whatever, Oscar.
    And that Fifty Shades of Grey piece? Well, I wish I'd written that line about rectifying....

  6. The Dave Barry article is just so funny and spot on. Thank you for the link. I haven't read anything by him in years - didn't realize he was still writing. He did that book justice.

    And you have given me something to look forward to, should I ever reach the age of 80. Do I think it's time I had a pap smear/colonoscopy/endoscopy/CT scan/anything? No. Just NO. Ahhh... bliss.

    Good luck with your appointment, my dear.

  7. Dear sweet Mary-

    I'm watching the Oscars and they are performing the song Glory from the movie Selma-and it's worth watching the damn show for this song.

    Bless you dearest Southern sister in the doldrums in February, my very birth month. I danced all weekend with my dance people. We laughed and cried and held each other.

    Dearheart, be held in love.

    XX Beth

  8. I agree with Beth about the performance of the song Glory at the Oscars. Rousing and moving. Men cried. Women too. Otherwise a fairly boring night. I hope tomorrow will be better for us both. A passing melancholy. That is all. Love.

  9. I didn't even have the Oscars on my radar. I have no idea who won. I guess I should go look. Maybe.

    I love that even amid the anxiety you keep watch for all the little affirming things in your world -- the skittering anoles, the cat at the window, the plants that need water. Not to mention Mr Moon and the rest of the family. Those things (and people) will pull you through!

  10. i call these my trigger days and until i figure out what the root is, i can't be comfortable in any sense of the word. these are also the days i feel the most spectrumy and awkward because nothing is 'right'.

    i hope your dark cloud passes soon mary moon.


  11. Hugs to you... and I have learned how to unthaw my propane tank's regulators,there are two and I have to use a kettle of almost but not quite boiling water and dribble it onto the regulators as slow as I can...the handsome third repairman/technician that came out in the late evening taught me and we had a funny old bonding moment over how balmy, yes balmy two degrees can seem after some of the lows we have had!

  12. Total anxiety hurt and upset fest here too. This too shall pass so they say. Thank you for sharing your downs and up. It helps Maggi x

  13. Oh, Ms. Moon, I'm so sorry. I'm glad you know it will pass.

    I didn't see any movies either, or read 50 shades.
    May the road rise up to meet you.

  14. I'd have the anxiety too if I was going to the doctor. It's stressful.
    I don't watch the Oscars. Just the Grammies and AMAs. For me, it's music. Movies, notsomuch.
    I'm going to plant veggies in all my pots this year and see what grows. Flowers are great but it's a lot of work for something you can't even eat.
    May you have a jolly day today. Xoxoxox

  15. My 94 year-old grandma may have a colonoscopy soon. I have asked the question, "to what end?" What treatment would they pursue if they found something?

    I hope your appointment today is as painless as possible.

  16. I hope you are well this morning Ms Moon.
    Sundays, doctor appointments and the rest. It seems there is no avoiding them.
    I hope you are on the other side of it by now.
    Sending you hugs.

  17. Two of the most powerful songs I have ever heard were sung last night...."I'm Not Gonna Miss You" and "Glory". Worth watching for. The rest of the almost four hour show, not so much.

    And, I try to remember each day that it does not matter how you sing, just so you sing.

  18. I am sorry that you have anxiety. But like you wrote, I know that it will pass. I had it a few days ago and felt like shit. But it also passed. Now I am smiling because I read Dave Barry's take on 50 Shades. I think the title should be changed to 50 shades of dog shit. My wife did not get through it. I read about 20 pages and thought it was boring and awful. But hey, if it sparks some hot sexual fantasies, it can't be all bad.

  19. Birdie- Good quote! What I find is that when I am in pain, it really does not help much to try and remember that I am not always in pain and when I am NOT in pain, the idea of pain seems so far away and almost silly.
    And I think of going to bed all day long.

    Ramona Quimby- My friend Liz once told a nurse who told her to step on the scale, "No, we won't be doing that today." I think that's one of the bravest things I've ever heard of.
    I adore the idea of you singing at the top of your lungs during anxious moments.

    e- Thank you AND you're welcome.

    Denise- Somehow the Oscars just occur on a planet that I have no contact with these days.
    Ain't Dave Barry grand?

    jenny_o- Just like Pollyanna, I try to find the good part about everything. (Hahahahahahaha!)

    Beth Coyote- You bring me joy.

    Angella- Melancholia cannot pass too quickly for me.

    Steve Reed- They always do, don't they? And the people here. Always.

    Mrs. A- They make me feel awkward too, these feelings. Like I'm an alien trying to fit into a human world. Ugh.

    Big Mamabird- That is not balmy. No. No it is not. That is wicked, freezing ass cold. How do you stand it?

    Maggi- As I always say, I wish that NONE of us knew what this feels like.

    Betsy- And sometimes that road does just that! Thank you, virtual sister.

    Heartinhand- Vegetables can be beautiful too! Someday I will have an all pot garden. No, I don't mean weed.

    Stephanie- Don't let the medical providers get away with that shit. Oh. Sorry. That was sort of a pun. But seriously- the prep alone could kill her! That's so wrong.

    Ms. Yo- Today is much better. Thank you, love.

    Peace, Thyme- And with advent of the internet, we can skip the bull and get straight to the good stuff.

    Syd- I salute the two of you for trying to read it!


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