i'm darkness and light, bubbles and faerie wings.
i am sparkles and glitter, shadows and clouds.
i love purple, and faeries, and books, and music.
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It’s a year today that my father passed away. I never did write about any of this, and I kept meaning to. But I still have thank you cards to send out to those who came to the funeral, or sent sympathy, and honestly? I haven’t been able to do any of that.
We’ve had our full Year of Firsts. First Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first birthday, first wedding anniversary, first father’s day. First of a lot of things. Sometimes I catch myself holding in a breath and thinking, “oh my god, my dad’s gone”. It hits at weird times.
I don’t remember much about last September. I pretty much lost 2 weeks of work in a job I was just learning. The week I spent with my mother (after my father – in true Impatient Healy Fashion – passed away the morning after he spoke with everyone he needed to speak with, rather than sticking around for the few weeks/months the doctors thought he had) went by in a blur. I was so thankful that I was there, speaking with my Mum, when my father passed. I was so thankful that I could stay with her that week and (try to) get things done.
I am so thankful for family, and friends, who were there for me through everything.
The last year has been a roller coaster for many reasons. I get motion sick so easily, that it’s been difficult to process. When things change drastically, they seem to all change at once. For better, or for worse, the changes come and you adapt, you deal. You make the most of what you have in front of you, and try not to dwell on what was lost.
And I miss my Dad. And I love my family. And I am bracing myself for new adventures. And. And. And.
And now we’ve reached the first anniversary of the passing of my father. Full circle. It doesn’t make it any less sad, nor does it make it any more sad. It will continue to hit me at random moments. I will have jolts of sadness, and jolts of laughter. My sister and her family were there when they put him in the wall at the cemetery (ok, enterrement…but technically it IS just putting his urn in a wall!), and he’s at peace and no longer in pain. My mother is thriving in her new city, and we are all coping. And we have each other.
But wow, do years fly by in a blink when they are so full of emotion.
I love you, Daddy. I hope you’re surrounded by flowers and butterflies. I hope you’re happy. And I truly hope you’re at peace.
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I keep thinking I should write something here, and then I get distracted. I don’t have my laptop open much when I am home. I have been spending my days reading, crafting, or watching netflix. I am on the computer all day at work and well, I am simply computered out when I get home.
I miss my blog though. I feel guilty about not updating. I mostly post photos on instagram and that’s about the most social media-ish I get. IG auto posts to fb and I’m not on any other platform anymore. Social media is too negative and annoying.
But here I am. Just completed one full year back at the university in the new job, and it’s a weird thing to think about. Though this time last year I was sure I’d never remember all the stuff I was learning, and this time around I was doing stuff without my notes! So woo! And I feel rather proud of all I have learned.
Who knows what happens next. Every day becomes an adventure.
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there are a multitude
of words and emotions
crashing around inside my head
and heart
none want to escape their
dark, swirly, hideaways
and find themselves on paper
or screen.
these days I see nothing but
memories
of who lived within each box
of 28, 30, or 31 days
I know it’s just a matter of perception
a glass half empty / half full
sort of filter when I look at the calendar
but right now, all I see are empty spaces
where family, friends, pets, and loved ones
used to be
this date used to celebrate that person
that date used to celebrate this person
empty boxes that represent empty spaces
in my heart, and in the world.
and six years ago today, when my life changed
for better or for worse
(who knows)
perceptions changed, priorities changed.
but I’m still not sure how
or what I want to change
I have been wandering, lost.
through a maze of possibilities
uncertainty trailing behind me like a shadow
what I thought I needed, wasn’t what I needed
what I thought was the right path, turned out to be a dead end
and somehow, I am back at the start
all over again
or, maybe not.
maybe it’s a new direction, from the same entrance, but with different
possibilities and goals to achieve
maybe it’s not the same start, but a new one
Still.
I look at those empty boxes on the calendar
and all I see is loss
a birthday that is now a memory
a deathday that reminds me, yet again, of the empty space
each loved one, human or animal,
now has two empty boxes within 365 days
sometimes more
and I have lost so much time myself
because of six years ago today
the catalyst for change,
the shift in perceptions and priorities
I left, I grew, I tried something completely different
but it wasn’t the right path
and I am lost again
on another path that I am sure
is also the wrong direction
but I have so little energy to look for the right way
and I am so tired of trying to see through the fog
in my head
in my heart
in front of my eyes
I miss my father
I miss my dogs
I miss my friends
I miss my grandfather, grandmother, aunt, etc.
I miss seeing full squares in the calendar on my wall
eventually I may see them half-full
but I don’t know which path will take me there
or how long it will take to find it, or arrive
I am exhausted by loss
and of being lost
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April 7th, 2018 | my muse you might think
a poem
is an easy thing
just some words
on different lines
word after word after word
some of them rhyme
some of the time
sometimes
……….there
……………are
……………….long
…………………..pauses
between them
ortheycanbereadallinonebreath
a poem is painted
thoughts illustrated with letters
it can be cryptic;
hidden messages about the one that got away
who still haunts your heart,
or at least your dreams
it can be literal, or mean nothing at all
but words on paper can heal, ignite, or wound
releasing the words from inside your head
can be the difference between sleep and worry
a poem can be a lot of things
easy or hard
the choice is yours
© cjh
april 7, 2018
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I really don’t want to schedule myself time to blog because I know that as soon as I set a schedule I’ll never follow it. I am great with schedules and deadlines when it comes to work, but when it comes to my own personal stuff it’s the easiest way for me to ignore what I am supposed to be doing completely.
For a person who doesn’t think herself spontaneous I much prefer to be spontaneous about things like creativity. I like to do things when I feel inspired to do them. If I set up time for me to create…nothing happens.
I realized the decline of my blog is due to the ease of which I can post small snippets of life, with a photo, through instagram. It’s easier than logging into my blog dashboard, editing a photo in another program, and then using a third program to upload said photo, and then writing about it all here. I know I can add photos directly through wordpress, but then they aren’t saved in my extremely well-organized files on my server. I also happen to really love the filters I can use on IG, even if my love of IG has been slowly fizzling out since facebook bought them and ruined the platform. (I JUST WANT MY INFORMATION IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER, FACEBOOK. *shakes fist in consternation*)
I could always blog here without photos, but that’s boring. (to me) Besides I’m way more of a visual person and like to include something that’s photo-y.
I’m going through something right now and I don’t know what it is, but I know its going on because I keep making life changes. I quit working at the bookstore, I am back at my old place of employment twice a week helping out for a while. That’s certainly not a permanent thing because I quit there once, and I know I don’t want to be back there full-time. I am in this annoying perma-funk sadness phase. I am unhappy with so much right now and I am doing the best I can to figure it out. I am trying to do art stuff more. I am enjoying my bullet journalling thing. We’re entering month 4 and I am still keeping up with it. It’s must less restrictive than the planner I used to use. I eventually retired all of the different agendas I was using and now stick with the journal full-time.
There is a little part of me that breaks down each time I abandon a semi-full agenda though. It’s up there with not finishing a book. It feels wrong. I am trying to let go of these types of hang ups though. There’s way more in life to be upset about than not finishing an agenda through to the end of the year. (But still.. all those pages wasted. The money spent. Ugh.)
I have discovered I love watercolour painting. I have been experimenting with this medium a lot lately. Mostly small, messy things. I did make something for a friend for her birthday, but I haven’t mailed it yet. The birthday was over a month ago, so.
I am trying to fill my newly free time with productive things. Cleaning the house (goodbye clutter!), practising art (painting, drawing), reading (that is productive in a way), and I am determined to be out there jogging again. I started back up in February when we had an early thaw, but that was derailed once March got too cold. I do not have the right clothing to run in cold weather and I am really not out there often enough to merit buying a whole new wardrobe. If I become a regular jogger this summer then I will invest, for now I’d rather not.
I had planned to run today, April 1. No, not a joke. But it’s still 2C (feels like -3C) and that’s just too cold for my body to handle. Per my facebook memories, I have started running again on April 1 almost every year. Funny that. Maybe that’s why I drop off the plan, my brain thinks I am playing a prank. Though this month in my journal I have added running to my habits to track and I plan on trying to get out TWICE a week. I rebooted my Runkeeper training plan (for the second time this year) and have it set to remind me to go out twice a week. It’s SUPPOSED to be 7C today and if it does hit 5 or over I will force myself out. I end up enjoying the run but the cold is too hard on my body and then I HURT a lot. Not hurt from running, different hurt. And I don’t feel like dealing with that.
I have some stuff going on this month that may or may not help me climb out of this funk. At the very least this stuff will involve friends I do not see often and that will be helpful to my mood. There’s also some stuff this month I am not looking forward to, but I’ll cross those bridges when they appear.
There is this constant struggle to figure out what I want. What makes me happy. How is is possible to do what makes me happy AND actually be able to pay the bills without it being a struggle. And what exactly is it that I think makes me happy. Can I be happy? Is that feasible? What do I want in my life right now? So many questions. I have learned very well that health & happiness are a joint thing when it comes to myself. I need to find a balance there. I need to figure all this out. How can one be happy AND financially stable? And still have a work/life balance that doesn’t drain you or burn you out.
Being a grown-up is annoying. Being a kid was annoying, too. I don’t want to go backwards.
So I’ll continue to use this extra time I am lucky to have to figure shit out. I will paint, draw, write, read, clean, apply for jobs (ugh), and reflect. Hopefully I will come to some sort of conclusion that makes sense. because I am tired of things not making sense.
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Cat has
read 0 books toward
her goal of
50 books.
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