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WillowCatkin of Bloom
Jun. 14th, 2019 10:08 pmSome little time ago, I bought a used self-help book called "Your Survival Strategies Are Killing You." This title comes to mind not infrequently. Now, for instance. I have to admit, my survival strategies, such as they are, are not doing too well by me. Just for example, I've had an onslaught of phone calls recently. All during times when I was just about to do something of a self-care-y nature. Here's a list, with some salient features noted.
My cousin California Joe: To reminisce (inaccurately) about my mother and his mother and their past history. Also shared that he's been in poor health due to his legs and feet swelling up. Possibly a kidney issue. He is diabetic. When I tried to commiserate, he went off on a tangent about GMO foods and the Trilateral Commission. Fortunately, he was summoned by another call from his business partner.
Immediately thereafter: Queenie, who was sent an item from my mother's room that she did not want. Said item arrived without any note of explanation and she was very upset that no one even asked her if she wanted it. Other disturbing and even heartbreaking topics were covered, of which the less said the better, probably. Conversation causing intense sadness all around.
A friend from PA: To let me know her daughter's boyfriend turned out to be a meth addict. Daughter has broken up with him. Friend is flying to visit her immediately in spite of health problems. Also, friend's sister's house was set afire by lightning in the last round of storms. Sister's stove exploded when lightning hit the gas pipe. Fortunately, the firefighters were already there to put out the trees that caught fire due to lightning strikes.
The friend now known as Wol: To ask me, for some reason, about a puukko knife that I owned once. He recently sent us one just like it, which I appreciate. His reasons for needing to talk about something are not always apparent. I then learned that he had recently been hospitalized for five days due to becoming incoherent at a routine doctor visit. Also diabetic. I inquired, but he changed the subject. "And by the way, my mother died," I informed him. He was sorry to hear that. Random chat ensued.
What do these widely disparate items have in common? I ANSWERED THE PHONE. Every damn time. What on earth was I thinking? I guess I never expect these conversations to be quite the compendia of catastrophe that they turn out to be. Facepalm. My ideas of self-care are pathetic. I badly need a change of strategy.
I did two, and only two, good things today. I instigated the Sparrowhawk and me listening to a meditation CD that was really good. We also went for a walk in the evening, in the restless and fitful breeze with its airs and perfumes. Sat by the river under a willow and sang the Tom Bombadil song. Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo! I left the phone at home. I'll only answer it if it goes "Ring a ding dillo!"
My cousin California Joe: To reminisce (inaccurately) about my mother and his mother and their past history. Also shared that he's been in poor health due to his legs and feet swelling up. Possibly a kidney issue. He is diabetic. When I tried to commiserate, he went off on a tangent about GMO foods and the Trilateral Commission. Fortunately, he was summoned by another call from his business partner.
Immediately thereafter: Queenie, who was sent an item from my mother's room that she did not want. Said item arrived without any note of explanation and she was very upset that no one even asked her if she wanted it. Other disturbing and even heartbreaking topics were covered, of which the less said the better, probably. Conversation causing intense sadness all around.
A friend from PA: To let me know her daughter's boyfriend turned out to be a meth addict. Daughter has broken up with him. Friend is flying to visit her immediately in spite of health problems. Also, friend's sister's house was set afire by lightning in the last round of storms. Sister's stove exploded when lightning hit the gas pipe. Fortunately, the firefighters were already there to put out the trees that caught fire due to lightning strikes.
The friend now known as Wol: To ask me, for some reason, about a puukko knife that I owned once. He recently sent us one just like it, which I appreciate. His reasons for needing to talk about something are not always apparent. I then learned that he had recently been hospitalized for five days due to becoming incoherent at a routine doctor visit. Also diabetic. I inquired, but he changed the subject. "And by the way, my mother died," I informed him. He was sorry to hear that. Random chat ensued.
What do these widely disparate items have in common? I ANSWERED THE PHONE. Every damn time. What on earth was I thinking? I guess I never expect these conversations to be quite the compendia of catastrophe that they turn out to be. Facepalm. My ideas of self-care are pathetic. I badly need a change of strategy.
I did two, and only two, good things today. I instigated the Sparrowhawk and me listening to a meditation CD that was really good. We also went for a walk in the evening, in the restless and fitful breeze with its airs and perfumes. Sat by the river under a willow and sang the Tom Bombadil song. Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo! I left the phone at home. I'll only answer it if it goes "Ring a ding dillo!"
