pulling my feet from the mire
Last week, I put some seeds on to soak and then just never got up to planting them, so I threw them into the compost (who knows, maybe they'll come up) and since I was now out of spinach, went out and bought new seeds, soaked them and planted them last night.
It felt really good.
I haven't been feeling myself for months. I do wonder if it's SAD or just garden variety mid-centenarian existential funk. Seen holistically, I've got a pretty great life; I'm living within my means in my own home surrounded by people who love me. I've got a steady job as well as numerous outside interests and hobbies.
I get stuck on all the stuff that I *haven't* done, the dreams and fever-dreams, the checklist and the ticking clock. My children are mostly still in that proto-adult stage and need a lot of support, both emotionally and financially. And there are things looming on the not-too-distant horizon that feel to me like distractions, though intellectually, I can see that they are important and it's necessary that I help deal with them.
For example, I'm helping my Lost Boy get out of Minnesota and into Lois' place, down the street. His life is a wreck and I'm heart-sore over the whole business. Another thing is that my mid-son Carl can't find a job in wastewater in Michigan and is looking at California. Both he and Crystal are mature for their age, but the thought of them being so far away and so young and inexperienced has me a little stressed. And if/when they *do* move, I don't know what I'm going to do with the Negaunee house -- well, I have some ideas, but it's going to be a huge hassle to pull off. And I'm still working on the bankruptcy thing.
Ok, so those are some of the nagging worries. But what I really wanted to write about is that I'm feeling better. Last night I planted some spinach. Today, I'm going over to meet a home-health client; I'm still working the Meijers warehouse job, but I'm picking up some hours assisting a young fellow who lives across town. That feels really right.
Starting Feb 14, I'll be putting money in the bank for long-term plans, and in March, I've got someone who'll help me dig out the garden beds, cistern and shed.
Hands in the dirt, guys. Hands. In. The. Dirt.
It felt really good.
I haven't been feeling myself for months. I do wonder if it's SAD or just garden variety mid-centenarian existential funk. Seen holistically, I've got a pretty great life; I'm living within my means in my own home surrounded by people who love me. I've got a steady job as well as numerous outside interests and hobbies.
I get stuck on all the stuff that I *haven't* done, the dreams and fever-dreams, the checklist and the ticking clock. My children are mostly still in that proto-adult stage and need a lot of support, both emotionally and financially. And there are things looming on the not-too-distant horizon that feel to me like distractions, though intellectually, I can see that they are important and it's necessary that I help deal with them.
For example, I'm helping my Lost Boy get out of Minnesota and into Lois' place, down the street. His life is a wreck and I'm heart-sore over the whole business. Another thing is that my mid-son Carl can't find a job in wastewater in Michigan and is looking at California. Both he and Crystal are mature for their age, but the thought of them being so far away and so young and inexperienced has me a little stressed. And if/when they *do* move, I don't know what I'm going to do with the Negaunee house -- well, I have some ideas, but it's going to be a huge hassle to pull off. And I'm still working on the bankruptcy thing.
Ok, so those are some of the nagging worries. But what I really wanted to write about is that I'm feeling better. Last night I planted some spinach. Today, I'm going over to meet a home-health client; I'm still working the Meijers warehouse job, but I'm picking up some hours assisting a young fellow who lives across town. That feels really right.
Starting Feb 14, I'll be putting money in the bank for long-term plans, and in March, I've got someone who'll help me dig out the garden beds, cistern and shed.
Hands in the dirt, guys. Hands. In. The. Dirt.