Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The State of My Flucuating Frame of Mind


To all my "dear readers, as the great Ann Landers referred to her "followers," this is for those of you who also function as my mental-health caregivers. Since most of you've been with me from my blogging beginnings, you're aware that this is a critical phase in what professionals call my "grieving process."

So, let's start out by taking a look at a "glamour shot" of me from several years ago, when it was still considered (by whomever owned the photography outfit, at least) sexy for a woman to wear a ridiculous mass of annoyingly ticklish ostrich feathers dyed in phony bright colors, which was known as a "feather boa."

Anything wrapped around my neck described as a "boa" immediately strikes me as repulsive, but I allowed myself to be talked into it, along with, ugh, red lipstick.

You should be aware by now of my dim view of such stupid notions when it comes to popular feminine fashions in my mother's day. When I look at the offensively flashy absurdity adorning my unevenly tanned shoulders, then focus on my lame attempt at a "come hither" expression as I'd been instructed to do, I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Maybe throwing up is a more accurate way to describe the impulse I most often feel when I look back at what it was like to be an attractive young woman from my now-enlightened but hopefully not jaded retrospective view.

Ever watched AMC's "Mad Men?" I was in on the tail end of that blatantly sexist era, and maybe sometime I'll tell you about being literally chased around his bedroom by a horrible boss I once had.

OK, then, let's move on to my next item:


Here's an illustration of how I imagine myself navigating the stormy high seas of emotions in my life this month. I'm hanging onto Him for dear life as I struggle to keep my head above water in a flood of sad memories that threatens to engulf me at times. This is my attempt to endure what I know is a difficult period for all survivors on every anniversary date of a great tragedy in their lives. 

Add to the turbulent swirl of days this May yet-another unavoidable and uncelebrated date: Yesterday was my 59th birthday. The combination of "celebration" with "birthday" is an oxymoron for a woman my age, whose bathroom is so over-stocked with anti-aging lotions and potions that one would think I own stock in the company that makes Oil of Olay -- or Oil of Old Lady, as my husband called it. 

My ambivalent feelings about my 59th birthday are similar to my tainted, feminist leanings toward the societal influences that shaped my mother's life and my own early days. Actually, I'm proud of making it this far and in such fairly good shape, considering how little effort I've put into living anything close to a "healthy lifestyle."

If I allowed myself to fall back into my former negative way of thinking, I'd be horrified now to be just one year away from the unbelievably ancient and dreaded six-oh, as in, "OMG, 60?" But, due to the power of positive thinking and a weird freak of nature I'm really getting into these days, my head's been rearranged and now I think of "unbelievably ancient" as 80, at least, or maybe more like 90!

Alright, let's wrap this up, so here's my final item for today:


This is a cropped portion of a very cool action shot of a big bird of prey trained by a handler in Mongolia published by (who else?) National Geographic. This bird's coming in for a landing rather than taking flight, but it's the best picture I've seen lately showing the incredible power these carnivorous hunters' huge wings. I share it now with you in reference to the bird story I posted last month about the bald eagle I saw on the evening of my husband's death.

I will always believe I wasn't just watching a startled big bird burst out of a nearby tree and take off in an impressively loud flapping of his powerful wings. I was blessed to also have been witnessing my husband's soul leave this earthly world as, in an awesome display of spiritual grace and strength, he rose up and flew out of sight on his journey to the Other Side.

And to any of you who may think that God has no sense of humor, I will now tell you that as I write this, there are so many mourning doves hooting and hollering outside my office window that I want to just furiously fling it open and yell, "ALL RIGHT, ALREADY!! I GOT IT! SO SHUT UP, WILL YA? I CAN'T EVEN THINK, YOU"RE MAKING SO MUCH NOISE!"

11 comments:

  1. I think you just have to let the feelings come Donna. It's natural to dread the upcoming anniversary of a tragedy, but I want you to focus on how far you've come. You've pulled yourself back from the abyss. You are so strong and so brave my friend. You are so young and have so much life to live and give, and you shall. Allow your heart to swell a bit with the sadness, and then know that Roger would so want you to be happy.

    And, a very happy belated birthday to you!!

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  2. I'm so happy to get past the era of "glamor shots" and illusions. Women shouldn't have to remake themselves.

    I wish you well in your recovery. I don't have any Hallmark magic to impart. We've all been there and empathize. It isn't easy. Good days and harder days.I am often reminded of the lady where I worked who came to visit every day to tell me jokes for months after my mom passed.

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  3. These unhappy anniversaries always bring the sorrow to the surface even more.
    I really like the image of the storm. It's comforting to feel His hand on our shoulder.
    I think it is so awesome that you saw the eagle when your dear husband departed. The eagle is a bird of strength and maybe he was trying to pass some of that strength to you to get through this tragic time.
    Blessings to you and I will be keeping you in my thoughts.

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  4. Prayers are being said for you.
    Happy Birthday! :-)
    Mine 59th is at the end of the month!

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  5. For some reason I find that the shadows and valleys of life prompt me to advise breathing. I'm far from an expert, and I have not had to face the heartache with which you live. I only know that when I get jerked away from what centers me breathing can bring me back, or at least closer, to where I can find peace and some measure of an ability to function.

    You are brave, did you know that? And God will find a way to guide you through. That's her job, after all.

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  6. Well when the stinky material hits the whirly device I was always advised to find shelter behind a screen. A screen?? Porous material?? Are you out of your mind? It's stinky material!!!

    And then I found the ultimate shelter - Jesus. He's the only one who can do anything with the pain and other stinky material life showers us with on occasion.

    So I am glad you're "on board" with Him at this time. Always there, always listening, always loving and caring, and full of grace and forgiveness.

    And to Alter ego - you should read "The Shack" - THE book about what God can do and be!!

    God bless you all - hang in there Sister - Love - Steve

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  7. Well when the stinky material hits the whirly device I was always advised to find shelter behind a screen. A screen?? Porous material?? Are you out of your mind? It's stinky material!!!

    And then I found the ultimate shelter - Jesus. He's the only one who can do anything with the pain and other stinky material life showers us with on occasion.

    So I am glad you're "on board" with Him at this time. Always there, always listening, always loving and caring, and full of grace and forgiveness.

    And to Alter ego - you should read "The Shack" - THE book about what God can do and be!!

    God bless you all - hang in there Sister - Love - Steve

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  8. Ah, sweetie, there is life afte4r 60.
    Try 65.
    But, life is full of twists and turns, and (truth be told) you have experienced what I have not (yet).

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  9. ((( Donna ))) I'm a tad late reading the post......... happy belated birthday! One thing I'm learning about emotions..... they DO pass, so hang tight, and keep on feeling, Donna! And yes, as I've already seen your next post, taking a break and getting lost in a movie is a wonderful idea too!

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  10. Happy belated birthday. Thinking of you, even though I don't comment often on your blogs.

    Jane

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