Beginning Signs of Life

I honestly haven’t looked to see exactly how long it’s been since my last posting, but I think it’s been about two weeks? I have used the ache in me, the encouragement of my family, and the prayers of a dear friend to whom I had confided, and made some progress. My flame is sadly still out. However, I have gone from just basic watering and the bare minimum of ‘Keeping Things Alive’ most days to the next chapter of ‘Going for Blooms’. And I have felt the slightest tickle of a spark. Some of these roses are astoundingly resilient! Like, one week of semi-decent watering, and they are already budding and some have even actually bloomed. (And yes, Martha Stewart is one of them, ha ha! You knew she would be, right?)

There is also something quietly yet brightly beautiful happening in my front garden. Suddenly tons of things I planted years ago have popped up to bloom at the exact same time. Bright red ‘Hot Lips’ salvia, explosive yellow goldenrod, the warm half rainbow of lantana, little frothy pink heads of Valerian, velvety purple sage spikes and the ultraviolet glow of Verbena bonariensis are suddenly blooming in incredible harmonic resplendence! You guys, IT IS SO PRETTYYYYY!

And if you know me at all, you know it is giving me all sorts of analogies about good seeds, strong roots, and all sorts of other things. What else have I metaphorically planted within myself? Specifically, what drought tolerant things did I previously sew and nurture that can now, true to their nature, bloom unaided by me? And what else can I plant? And did you know that roses are considered to be drought tolerant when they are planted in the ground? (I did, obvs, but did you? Pretty cool, right?)

Yes, some of these roses are also beginning to bloom again. Each bloom makes me feel like crying. They are so pretty! I hope I can get my mojo back. I hope I can continue to move forward a little each day.

Roses blooming: 1-2 Julie Andrews, 3 Sexy Rexy, 4 Pat Austin, 5-6 Molineaux, 7 Violet’s Pride, 8 Snow Goose, 9 Le Petite Prince, 10 Plum Perfect.

On Saturday morning, I went outside and while listening to a two hour church conference, reclaimed a horribly weedy and overgrown space by our front door. It felt so good to do it! And it was very easy to do! And now every single time I come or go, my mind is pleased with the cleanliness and order of it all. *WIN* *tiny spark of joy*

There is still much to do, but now it feels doable. Get plants out of pots, cut the tropical milkweed back, go get tons of pansies to fill the empty spaces, maybe sew some red clover between the bricks…And weeding. Always and forevermore weeding (which was today’s little chore). Well, we shall see. Stay tuned? I feel like it’s maybe starting to come back. Maybe?

When Hyperfixation Wanes

 I haven’t blogged in years. I mean, who out there still blogs?! The truth is, I actually don’t know. Maybe lots of people still do. In my mind, we all shifted over to social media platforms and podcasts a long time ago. So maybe that’s why it feels quiet and safe to start blogging again. Like a fawn venturing out of the safety of the forest walls, here I timidly stand. Sensing for danger and unknowns, here I go, yo. I am assuming (hoping?) no one will notice, ha ha. 

So let’s chat. Because I am not in a good place. I have lost my gardening ju-ju. Like, I just stopped watering or even going outside to check on my zillions of plants. And I did that not just any ol’ time, but in August, in Los Angeles. Just casually walked my carefully collected and cared for plants to the fiery gates of purgatory and essentially said, “This is you. I can’t. So, yeah…bye.” 

I am heartbroken. Some of them have died! I mean, OF COURSE THEY FREAKING DID! But my drive is just gone. And apparently it has to do with a facet of my (recently diagnosed) ADHD. That particular chestnut? Hyperfixation, baby. It’s a thing, and yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. You become obsessed, and like Arnold Lobel’s “Small Pig”, you soak down into the good, soft muddy minutiae of whatever has caught your fancy. Often, it’s just for a few weeks, but yes, sometimes it’s also for years. And then for whatever reason, *poof!*, it’s gone. I’m too new to all of this to know if executive disfunction somehow plays a role, but it feels exactly like that sometimes. I know I should be itching to be outside. But there is instead an aching void and/or no link to any desire. Zip, nada, nothing.

So there I was, with 100+ varieties of roses, right? And well, here I still am, minus 4 or 5 of those roses. Because liquid hot magma sunshine and no water for weeks. Some days I have crippling guilt. Others days I don’t even think about it very much. But it’s gross, guys. I hate it. And I can’t. And I don’t want to. And it’s gross, guys. And I hate it. Oh. ♾️ 

You know what made my almost cry today though? My kiddo sent me out to water (yes, my 7 year old), and I found my freaking ‘Martha Stewart’ rose blooming. BLOOMING, you guys. 🥺 Like, HOW???  And also things like HUH? and WHY?! And the teensiest little bit of sarcastic guffawing because of COURSE it would be Martha friggin’ Stewart who would overachieve, right? 🤣🤣🤣

So I came inside just now and Googled ‘Is there a way to get back into a hyperfixation?’ And yeah, there’s sadly nothing very solid there, from the whole, heavy, sweeping 1-2 minutes I took to speed read links on Reddit and questions frequently asked. But there are some decent suggestions and a lot of talk about forgiving yourself if you can’t. And the thing that helped me the most was just experiencing the solidarity of how many other people had asked the same question. After that, also seeing how many other people added their voices and caring into the mix. And it made me want very much to add mine. Just in case something I said here today blooms,  and against the odds, reaches someone the way my little ‘Martha Stewart’ rose reached me today. I care, my fellow ADHD’er. I care so much and I hope you can get it back—whatever your specific ‘it’ is. I’m going to take the advice so freely given once Googled, and see if I can look at things from a different angle; find a new way to catch the old spark. I’m going to vocalize my genuine struggles of ennui and apathy. I am going to ask those who can, to help me keep going through the movements in the meantime. And I am going to watch for sparks. Because I have to believe that at some point there will be. And if my eyes are up and scanning the horizon for it, I will once again see it light up my heart and my Hyperfixation. 🤞🏼

Fresh Start Feeling

I keep thinking about blogging and then not doing it because I don’t want to have to do it from my iPhone. So weeks and months and now years have gone by of me silencing my voice. That makes me kind of sad. I love writing and speaking and sharing and communicating. So here I go and maybe I’ll just try to keep my posts brief (laugh with me here, friends!) as I get back into all of this bloggishness. 

It’s a beautiful day her in So Cal and I can see the heavily laden orange trees over the backyard fence. It’s one of my favorite sights: oranges galore against a blue sky. Love the color combos. And I feel like, even if it’s been a blah or bad day, I can still treat my eyes with the beauty outside my door. I am a visual person, so sometimes I really, really need to look up from my laundry piles and see something refreshing and happy. It makes me strive for that same happy refreshment in my own home. It’s a good thing. 

Coming off of a very stressful few weeks and my house, as usual, reflects the turmoil within. But I’m working on it. And by stressful, I mean my anxiety has been in overdrive. I have a good life, happy marriage and wonderful kiddos. But, I also have chronic anxiety. So whenever I make plans or start a new project, or just whatever,  my anxiety perks back up again. It’s a daily battle, really. Because the flip side of me is that I love people and plans. So my anxiety tries to undo the other side’s positive planning. But I work very hard not to let it win, and in the fight to see it through, my personal environment often reflects the way my heart and head feel. I read somewhere that cleaning and organizing places around you can help resolve stress and anxiety though, so I also am usually trying to organize or clean things. ♾ 

And that brings me back to the oranges. One of my favorite scents and sights. I want my life to reflect the purity and vitality and freshness of oranges. 🍊 So back to the laundry piles I go. And maybe I’ll light a candle or two as I go. I’ve got this. 

The "Scoot, Scoot, Grab"

I love this quote by Margaret Atwood. It's so clean and earthy and safe. In short, nothing like the everyday experiences in my garden. At the end of the day, I not only smell like dirt, but like sweat, too, and lots of it.

 

But what of the smells at the beginning of each day, you might ask? For me, the smell is one of distinct fear. I kid you not. That's how you know I must really love gardening. I wouldn't do it otherwise.

 

Now let me preface all of this by telling you that your first thoughts were probably accurate, too. There's the 'dew upon the grass' scent, and the smell of gently sun drenched roses, too. Wet earth being met by the first touches of the sun, yada yada yada.Yes, it's all of it there.

 

But do you know what else is there? Black widow spiders. And lots of them.

 

I don't like spiders, guys. I really, really don't. I mean, like, REALLY. And black widows are my least favorite. And in Southern California they're alllllllllll over the freaking place. Can't stand 'em.

 

Last week when I was cleaning out an old flower bed, I flipped over a large, old, outdoor pot...and yeah, there were two large widows RIGHT.THERE. They made a run for it and I started trying to smack them with my spade. I never saw them again. No clue if I hit them or if they escaped to scare me another day. My money's kinda on the latter of these possibilities...

 

>Sigh<

 

So anyway, because of this particular "affliction" in my garden, I have developed a particular technique (in addition to wearing some good gloves) to avoid getting bitten. I call it the "Scoot, Scoot, Drag". I don't use a hand rake, so my fingers do the raking in the dead leaves and weeds as I garden. You never know what you're going to find or awaken with each raking, so I make two quick scooping rakes towards me and then, if nothing on eight legs starts running at me, I make a final grab to put detritus type things into the weeding bucket. So far it's been working and I've gotten almost the entire front yard cleaned up and de-weeded.

 

But even with a good system in place, things can fall (or crawl!) through the cracks from time to time. Like they--IT--did this morning. Across the bare portion of my wannabe-Birkenstock-clad-foot.

I kid you not, guys, I really think my heart stopped. I really do. And I FROZE, too. I couldn't breathe OR move. And I was like,

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

 (Entomologist in me kicks into gear)

"Wait."

"Is that even a widow?!"

 

"Holy FRACK!"

 

"Is it...stopping on my foot...?!"

 (Complete WUSS in me kicks the entomologist in me clear out the door.)

 

"Doesn't matter what it is!"

"Kill it!"

"KILL IT!"

 

So I start trying to crab crawl away from my own attached foot, whilst simultaneously and recklessly smacking at self said foot. I missed twice, saw it (the spider, not my foot) was gone (MAYBE?!), got to my feet, back stepped and tripped over a raised paver stone, flailed wildly, and only then realized I was making guttural noises like a charging silver backed gorilla.

 

You know, your basic garden spider moment. Ha ha!

 

Oh my living HEART! What a moment. And as you can imagine,  I was crazy jumpy for the next four buckets full of weeds, too. I can only hope at least one of my neighbors caught the fantastic show and the myriad encores that followed. I must have looked like a jumbled up marionette in the hands of a frustrated toddler. Ha haaa!

 

Oh! And I did track down the spider in the grass, and it was NOT a black widow. Rather, a black house spider or funnel web spider of some kind. I think funnel web (not the uber deadly, Australian type. Just a normal type.)

 

So, gonna garden in some closed toed shoes from here on out.

Yeah.

 

THE END

And So It Begins: Kitchen Demo 2014

So today at 7:30 our kitchen officially became a construction zone. Despite having had a majority of our kitchen (pots, pans, dishes, spices, pantry foods, etc.) packed up for us around Christmas time, Mike and I were still up until almost 3 in the morning packing and moving and organizing and sorting everything else. I think I did a final sink of dishes at about 2:15 A.M. It was nuts and I was crazy emotional about it all, which Mike totally doesn't "get". He kept demanding that I not stress or cry or overthink the situation, ha ha. That went over like a lead balloon. ;)

But empty the kitchen, pantry and laundry room we did, and went to bed with the alarm set for 7:30, so we could be ready for the 8:00 A.M. demolition crew.
Well, no sooner had our alarm gone off than the doorbell rang. I kid you not. Luckily(?), I had crawled into bed fully clothed, so despite my extreme bed head and fogged over contact lenses, I was ready to answer the door thirty minutes early. Good times.
It's a little after 1:00 P.M. as I type this and all of the tile, cabinetry and appliances have been removed from the kitchen and pantry. Curiously, they have taped off our adjoined laundry room, so now we are worried they haven't been told that will need to be done...waiting to talk to them once they emerge from the tarped off rooms...
Here are a few pictures of the before and current (I don't want to say 'after' yet, because to me that implies finalization, and I won't truly have that for probably several months.) Anyway, without further ado, here's wassup:

Before:

And now our current state of affairs:

Venting Post

There is so much going on I hardly know where to begin. 

Do I start with how our sewer main got horribly plugged and sent its putrid contents flooding into our kitchen and all three of our bathrooms resulting in an insurance claim which has lead to the imminent demise of all four rooms beginning on Monday?

Do I tell you about my jitters for the lesson I've been asked to give this Sunday? And how I am the last person who should be giving a lesson on being a good visiting teacher?

Which reminds me: I'm still frequently crippled by both depression and anxiety. Hoping that if I begin my writings again, I'll feel less pressure and stress in my world.

I could also talk about how I'm starting to stress out over schools for Penelope. We have an "in" at a good nearby private school, but I'm worried about how we'll afford it.

Which brings me to Michael's continued lack of employment. So stressful to me!

And I'm so frustrated by all of this extra weight my body carries around like a comfort blanket these days. I'm constantly exhausted and for the first time in my life I have had to resort to using caffeine in order to function. I want to get my thyroid and blood sugars tested, but we don't have insurance right now. Can't afford it. And the kicker is that we will be punished by the government now for our lack of insurance. It makes me sick and so frustrated. 

I keep shutting down and have withdrawn from most of the people in my life. I figure it is incorrect to do so, but I can't make myself reconnect yet. I don't know what to do. 

Okay, there's lots more going on right now, but this us at least a good start and maybe now I can go to sleep. I hope so...so much to do tomorrow and Sunday...!

Anyway, thanks for letting me vent. I feel a bit better for now. Kind of. ;)

Nothing Much. Just Stuff.

I was going through some old drafts and found thus one I wrote about a year or so ago. I thought it was worth posting even in its unfinished version. So here ya go:

I don't really have that much to say tonight, but I'm feeling like writing, so here we go.

I'm looking forward to teaching a lesson for Relief Society tomorrow afternoon. I'm entitling it "Behold I Stand At the Door", and it's about finding different ways to approach people with the Lord's Gospel. My premise is that every person has "doors" they are willing to "answer". For example, the first time I felt the Spirit testify to me of the truthfulness of the gospel was through music. I am very sensitive to music, and when I heard Michael McLean sing "We can be together forever someday", I felt the Holy Ghost testify to me that the message was true. I gained a testimony through song. And I have never forgotten it.