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I Don’t Know Where I Stand

“Funny day, looking for laughter and finding it there
Sunny day, braiding wild flowers and leaves in my hair
Picked up a pencil and wrote, “I love you, ” in my finest hand
Wanted to send it, but I don’t know where I stand”

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

I usually start these Friday posts on Thursdays. Sometimes even Friday mornings!

I think it’s because I need the wisdom of a Wednesday therapy session to get the thoughts and themes started, and then to carry me through. As it often happens since Sawyer was born, I write them on Fridays, and occasionally even late into Friday nights. There has never been a past-midnight Friday post. There’s never even been a time that I published one past midnight, but changed the post date and time. These are the real deal Friday posts. Started on a Tuesday, continuing through a Thursday, and writing down to the wire on a hectic Friday morning. I have the wisdom of a therapy session under my belt since I casually drafted the outline of this post. Or do I? She ended the last session with asking if what we were working on was something I find helpful. To be honest, I do. Whenever we talk about this particular topic, veering from EMDR and the past, I usually do feel better. Not about the situation, but about my part in it. The silver lining of hope, not for uncertain and overwhelming things, but for myself. And I think that might be best.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

A little under two weeks ago, I had a session in which I cried a lot, and waved my white flag. I was pretty done. This is not usual for me – oddly I’m not much of a crier. The following week, we didn’t meet because she had something personal that week. The two weeks in between sessions were filled with lazy hazy dazy feelings. They were almost numb, and nearly slightly depressed, but also never reaching either of those things. And it wasn’t like I lost all my mojo, or my interest in my Tamara things, but I will say that such things were muted. A buzzing static in the background of the vivid. This time of year wreaks havoc on my digestive system, nearly every time. It is this swirling mix of pollen and humidity and horrific mosquito bites; the sometimes sleeplessness of hot nights and a husky bed, where there’s usually never a husky in bed this time of year. I sleep better with her there, but also worse. She kicks me sometimes, and other times pulls me closer.

I pull myself in closer.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

It’s not just the physical things, of course. I’ve had this happen since Scarlet was very young. We all have our times of year that mess us up in different ways. I used to hate November the most, with its missed chances at a perfect Thanksgiving. Once finding out how sick my uncle was, even though that was decades ago, and he still had a lot more sickness (and life) in him. It’s when my fall photography sessions wind down, because they have no choice but to do so after the fall colors wind down and mute up. It’s when we’ve encountered virulent RSV and pink-eye over the last few years. November doesn’t mess me up now; not badly. Sometimes it’s early-to-mid May.

When scenes like this are still under the surface; under the gloom:

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Early to mid May can do so, with its gloom, but I have remedied that the past two years with trips down south. It’s this late May into June that messes up my digestive system. It’s the reason I went on strong probiotics, many years ago, and fear what would happen if I stopped. It’s this swirling, gurgling thing. It doesn’t matter what I eat, or don’t eat. How I sleep, what I drink, or don’t drink. There’s sometimes about the transition into summer, and how damn frenetic it gets right before.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Of course it’s not about seasons or weather; it’s when our insides and our minds and our hearts are working, if not well, but in a more aligned and well-oiled fashion. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is, or what the weather is, and maybe it doesn’t even matter what it reminds you about in your past. It’s the way I filled up my previously empty Novembers with newer memories and moments. New strength and resilience. Maybe I’ll fill my empty early-to-mid May glooms, and maybe UNfill my frenetic chaos of late Mays into Junes. Maybe there will be echoes of laughter and signs of new growth. Maybe there will be new pitfalls and landmines, and maybe I’ll better learn to dismantle and untangle the bombs; fill the holes and pits with soil. It will look different, sure. It will feel different, sure. It’s about new growth in what was once empty and/or terrifying.

The fragility of skin and seasons; flesh and soil. Building and potting. Rebuilding and repotting.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

Flowers and leaves in my hair, Picked up a pencil and wrote, I love you, in my finest hand, Wanted to send it, but I don't know where I stand.

“Crickets call, courting their ladies in star-dappled green
Thickets tall, until the morning comes up like a dream
All muted and misty, so drowsy now, I’ll take what sleep I can
I know that I miss you, but I don’t know where I stand
I know that I miss you, but I don’t know where I stand”

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2 Comments

  1. An old familiar or a new and unfamiliar and unwanted “buzzing static in the background of the vivid” is a sure sign that new growth is needed somewhere in our life cycles. That’s Okay, as new growth helps us to keep our life cycles
    flowing with fresh and regenerating energy! The summer heat and humidity result in pretty harsh Crohn’s Disease flare-ups. I have long been used to pressing on through them. Originally an English folkband Fairport Convention first recorded Joni’s song a year before Joni released it on her breakthrough “Clouds” album. Both versions are pleasantly very similar. 🎶

  2. We do all have times of year when we can get overwhelmed. Fall is rough for me because I have a leaf mold allergy. The scene is gorgeous, but I just don’t feel great.

    July is my favorite month, and good news – it is coming soon!!

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