Go Away, Funk!

This summer has felt like a period of transition for me; restlessness yet a lack of motivation; appreciation for my quiet life, yet a sense of discontent; attempting to adapt to a change in body shape – most likely due to the lack of motivation and activity, as well as getting older. Wiser? Probably not. But older, yes. Yesterday morning, as I sat in my morning room with my coffee and watched the feathered and furred critters outside, we had a talk, myself and me/I. The talk was interrupted, of course, by those critters catching my attention, like this little guy. Not sure if he’s Chip or Dale, but one of them he is, I’m certain.

Chip? Or Dale?

Myself has been fighting the funk, protesting the weight gain, talking about doing something about both. But me/I have been languishing, not wishing to move anymore than necessary, trying to understand but yet, stuck in neutral. Myself has been reminding me that life changes, the one constant is that change. I say, “yeah, sure. Okay, fine. Now leave me alone”. Myself has wanted to kick me in the butt. Often. But sometimes I am stronger than myself. I am more stubborn. Oh look! The Towhee is having a fine time in the water spray from the sprinklers!

Hey! Pay attention here, myself tells me. You’ve been exaggerating these odd little physical feelings, you’ve been manufacturing problems out of things that are normal, that are explainable. You’ve been rejecting logic, and allowing anxiety to take over. Myself is a lot wiser than me, ofttimes. Myself has suddenly realized that, for the first 15 or 16 months after husband died, we kept ourselves very busy, myself and me/I. We traveled, through the generosity of family and friends. We did some redecorating in the house. We spent lots of time going places and seeing things while the Artistic One still lived in the neighborhood. We hid from the recognition of reality. We had a good time, that we did, and we would not change a thing. But now – now it’s time to recognize that we are – alone. Yes, we have the furry girls, our warm bundles of companionship – they need us, and we need that feeling of being needed. But we are alone. We need to acknowledge that, accept that, move on. Get off our Duff and get things done. Stop wallowing.

So – the big furry girls and I went for a walk in the afternoon, after we had picked up some pine cones, did a tiny bit of decluttering in the house, had coffee and a conversation that provided some release with the Social Flutterby, had lunch and took a nap. Our walk was a short one, but we moved. We got off our Duff and moved!

Myself and I took the camera, clicked it at a few of the sights along our little road – looking at the world with eyes wide open, seeing what we have been ignoring.

Bailey came with us, showing some excitement at “going for a walk”. She doesn’t venture out much these days – the old arthritic joints make it hard for her. But yesterday, she was eager. Shasta is always eager. For Shasta, going for a walk is always an adventure. She is the eternal optimistic.

The colors around us are turning to fall colors. The wild grasses have gone golden, the aspen in the distance are beginning to show some of that gold. The pines are beginning to shed their needles, along with more pine cones. They seem to have an endless supply!

When Bailey started straggling behind, when she appeared to have decided to go no further, Shasta and I turned around to rejoin her and head back the short distance to the house. The old girl hobbled a bit as we approached the yard, and when we got as far as the shade of the first tree in the yard, she said “okay. Time for me to rest”.

Shasta did what Shasta does in the green green grass of summer. She rolled. She soaked up the wonderful feeling of rolling in the grass. She was a happy girl.

I rubbed bellies a bit, then headed to the house. The burning bush shown in all its glory in the afternoon sun, adding spots of brilliance to the yard. The back of the house faces the front yard – I know, incongruous, isn’t it?

When we placed the house on the property, I wanted the Morning Room to face East, and I wanted the main view through the morning room windows to not be the road. Bedrooms can face the road – who spends many daylight hours in the bedrooms anyway? So entrance to our home is always through either the back door or the morning room door. The front door leads to the front deck, and is where Twiggy hollers to come in during the wee hours of nights that she goes out. That is the purpose of the front door. That’s just how it is! There’s nothing says we have to follow the norm, anyway.

And so Myself and Me/I have come to an agreement, and we are going to get out and move more. We’re going to be more productive, but we will continue to preserve a good part of the day for ourselves, to do with as we please. And we’re going to accept the fact that with age, changes come and we will accept the fact that we will be happy to spend our days in those jeans we just bought that are a bigger size than we have ever worn before. That’s just how it is!