Scars and the tales they tell or hide …

My mom (who is almost 88 years old) just flew home after visiting me for a week. It was one of the quickest good-byes I’ve ever had at an airport. I think we were both afraid … afraid of the tears, afraid in case this is the last time we ever see each other. At her age, you never know. For someone who struggles with depression and BPD (me), you never know. These days in general, you never know. And we now live 2,000 miles apart.

my “Stoic Swede” mom and me in Tahoe

My mom knows that depression has plagued me most of my life, but she doesn’t know about the BPD and I don’t plan on telling her. She’s seen many of my scars. Some she asks about, most she doesn’t. Although she is quite educated and was a nurse and educator, she gets quite anxious at any indication that I might be struggling to cope psychologically with anything or be seeing a psychiatrist or psychologist. It worries her that there’s something wrong with me … Partly because she will then blame herself. So, I keep it to myself. I wore long pants and sleeves while she was here. I was continually conscious of myself and what she could see.

It was a good visit, setting her mind at ease that our move out here was right for me. The mountains help me to feel settled, grounded in a way the midwest did not. The movement of the American River soothes me whenever I am able to be near it and watch the sun reflect off its surface as the water rushes around and over rocks.

American River Canyon

American River Canyon (Photo credit: aresauburn™)

This is only a few miles from my house! The Forest Hill Bridge in the back is the 3rd highest in the US

I continue to have moments when my anxiety and fear of loss and abandonment overtake me. I had some even while she was here and again as I said good-bye. Will those ever go away? I’m beginning to doubt it. That is my cross to bear or fountain of youth to seek. Am I Don Quixote fighting windmills in my mind?

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza (Photo credit: M Kuhn)

In my last post, I was very discouraged about how few people were reading my blog. I contemplated the suicide of my blog and the word suicide was in the title. Suddenly, there were many more hits and several comments from readers saying they were reading, even if they weren’t commenting. Thanks for the comments that were made to that posts. They helped. I guess I need to keep fighting my windmills and some of them might turn out to be real and I can win the fight! Others will taunt me as they will. More scars may come from the fights, but I will fight to the end – never giving up hope for happiness in life. Not just fleeting moments, but deep seated, know it in my bones and it shows in my face real happiness.

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This morning began before the dawn.

This morning began before the dawn. Sprinklers rained down upon lawn and plants before the first light. I took my son to begin his first day in a new school. I guess that means we really have moved and this is our new home. I hope the day goes well for him. I remember when I moved to a new school at the start of sixth grade; I threw up on the bus every morning for a week. Even my sister would not sit with me. It did not go well.

When I returned from taking him to school, I made a cup of coffee and went to sit in the garden, as the sprinklers were done with their morning rain. This is a time I really enjoy! Flocks of tiny gray birds emerge and fly from shrub to shrub drinking up the fresh drops of water dripping from the leaves. Hummingbirds begin their daylong chase/dance with each other. Zipping in spiraling maneuvers like stunt pilots in the sky, sometimes hovering high in the air like tiny crosses before diving straight down. Occasionally, one will pause right before me if I happen to be near the hummingbird feeder, checking me out for safety before going to take a sip. Flycatchers sit at the bird feeder enjoying the shelled sunflower seeds, pecking at the side of the feeder for them to come out faster. Goldfinches try to take turns with a morning bath in the bubbling center of the water fountain, sometimes shoving each other out of the way in their impatience.

As the sun rises higher, the activity in the garden slows down. The Leaves dry off and the flocks fly on. The feeder still has its visitors, though not so many during the heat of the day. The fountain seems to keep busy all day long, as birds, like children, splash in the water to cool off and while away the time.

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