22:03 - 01/04/2010
contemplation
I'm so excited dear diary. On a whim I surfed over to JK Rowling's website. The introductory notes had changed, so I started checking to see what else might be different after nearly a year where nothing was altered. A lot of new information. Then, on her interactive games, I located a new challenge set by her. Still haven't figured out how to open it - it's in the rubbish bin window - but in the past a new game or puzzle usually meant a new book of some description. She had mentioned that she might write an encyclopedia that gave information and bits of backstory on her characters and plots in the Harry Potter series. Hmmm.
The past couple of weeks have been somewhat contemplative in nature. Part of that is the natural rhythm of the weather and the season - Auld Lang Syne and all that. Part has been generated by random encounters and news evolving lately from near and far. I was waiting at the bus stop near my home one day on my way to doing some assignments. The bus was very late so the other traveller and I started chatting to pass the time. He is a regular whom I quite enjoy meeting. This day he was telling me how much his life had improved in the past couple of years. Now, he walks with two canes and recently had an amputation of one leg below the knee. He explained that he was schizophrenic and had, many years ago, tried to commit suicide by throwing himself under a train. Owww. When I worked in rehabilitation in one of our city's hospitals I had helped care for at least a couple of people who had been in similar accidents. Trains make a right mess of a body, you know. He said that he hadn't been on meds at the time and hadn't realized how much of a danger he was to himself. Both legs were badly damaged. Eventually, both had to be amputated just below the knees. Having worked in rehab, I know how much work it takes for someone to learn to walk again after receiving one prosthetic, but here is a fellow who has to walk with two of them. His canes have spikes on them so that he can navigate on the snow and ice. That particular day he was managing better than the rest of us walking on our own two legs. He told me that his health started to turn around when the buddhist monks in this city took him into their care. He noted that the meds that they give him keep his mind clear and his spirits up. He says he doesn't think about suicide now, but savours every moment of his life. I love listening to him sing early in the morning on his way to the bus.
While he was talking - and we were still waiting in the bitter cold - one of the women I had volunteered along-side at my childrens' schools arrived at the bus stop. She and the gentleman who was chatting with me shared their stories with me and each other about trying to cope with schizophrenia. I remembered that she had tried, at least once during our parenting years, to kill herself too. Neither has ever posed a danger to anyone else, but both really have to work at avoiding literal self-destruction. Both very courageous people, I think.
Also during my travels I've bumped into several Moms I've worked with in the past - both in waged and non-waged work - who, like me, have survived abusive spouses. We have all got on with raising our children and living our lives. I have always avoided the self-help and support groups, because the idea of being in a pool of others all drowning under the same demands of trying to survive being a single parent with the additional stresses of poverty and the social stereotypes made by those who stand to profit from further abusing a family without a protector, just wasn't one I could deal with. Added into all the day-to-day struggles during the years when my sons were growing, it didn't make any sense to me to take on the additional emotional toll such a group would inflict. However, talking with fellow survivors now, one on one, is very healing because they are the few who really understand what that life has been like. Not sob-sister stories, just tales of survival and outlasting/outsmarting the abuser who forced each of our families into poverty and deprivation. Tales of triumph in the last analysis. Hmmmm.
My youngest asking a lot of questions about those years lately, as he approaches fatherhood himself. Those discussions have also recalled a lot of experiences that I long-ago buried deeply in my memory, so that I could function well enough to raise my guys to manhood without scarring them too. As we talked, I could see things click in his mind as he related it to his own impending parenthood. Part of my youngest and my discussion was triggered as we nursed our one cat, Mr Mel. We needed a way to stay calm and balanced as we saw him leave this life. This time we couldn't do much for him. The vet had said, after his first bout of illness two years ago, that he would likely only live a couple of more years and he was right. We had no money for a vet now, since we hadn't enough money to even cover all the basic monthly bills in December - heating bills are through the roof when there are weeks of -30 C weather. The option of spending another thousand or two dollars on the off chance a vet could save him for another few months of life wasn't available to us, this time. Mr Mel died in my arms a few days before Christmas. My youngest and I talked a lot trying to support each other through the process of letting Mr Mel go. Somehow, the topics about why his Dad had changed and become abusive seemed to fit the circumstances. Helping my son understand some of the things that, as a child, had seemed incomprehensible to him was part of two healing processes - that of the past and of the present.
A+ and I spent Christmas Day apart. We had Boxing Day and New Years Eve together though. My family is very big and rowdy so that seemed the best compromise in terms of sharing the days among all. My grandbabies were a beautiful bouquet to savour on Christmas Day - all playing happily with each other. For most of them it was their second full day of parties - family, food and gifts to unwrap - but they all were very well-behaved despite the over-excitement. Their parents looked completely exhausted though; something I do not miss. Well not very much. I had opted to contribute cheesecakes to the family buffet, so even the cooking chores weren't stressful this Christmas Day. My youngest, on the other hand was working at the airport on those days - very stressful indeed.
There was a short stretch of warm - relatively speaking - weather, right after Christmas Day so A+ and I went shopping downtown one day after I had finished an assignment. What a relief to be outside. Cabin fever isn't just a concept in this part of the world, you see. Snapping photos of life after Christmas, then wandering through the stores now gearing down after months of dealing with busy, demanding shoppers. Talking about some of the memories I had been reliving because of the circumstances I mentioned above with A+ so he understood my frame of mind as we travelled from one store to the next. He found a really excellent deal on a computer game, so decided it was still close enough to Christmas to qualify as a gift for himself. Later that day I watched seasonal television shows and movies while he tried it out his new toy. Restful.
Distractions and traditions that relieved the deep meditations that some of the other conversations had induced have filled the days too. The other distractions I've found are through extra exercise routines (generated by the gift of an exercise ball from my youngest), reading, and baking. Singing along to whatever music I felt like listening to as I worked away at being domestic or physical. My youngest had generated the idea for the baking when he asked for cookies and cheese cake for his birthday/Christmas gifts you see. The gift to me was the memories of Christmasses past when my Mom, my Grandmother, my sisters and I, along with various neighbours and aunties, would get together to bake in bulk for the Christmas season. So much fun and a lot of funny stories to tell too. In between those fun things, continuing to clean and rearrange my home as it emerges from being buried in dead appliances and sending out resumes when I needed a breather. I was informed that I was now on the roster for some international observer/training jobs to do with elections. Hmmm. The Congo - maybe I should watch African Queen before I decide to apply for that one posting. Anyway time for my next round of exercises. Good night dear diary.
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