A Kitty For All Seasons

" Your most cherished dream will die this week, which would be tragic if it weren't to float around in a Texas-shaped pool filled with beer."

This morning, after I had dropped the boys off at school and ventured reluctantly back to work, I encountered the most amazing symbol of the upcoming season: A tree. One lone tree among dozens upon dozens of green towering deciduous beauties. This lone picture of perfection lit up my view with it's seemingly infinite collection of red, orange and yellow hues. Fall. I instantly fast-forward to the smell of pumpkin... a cool nighttime breeze teasing my flesh....the crunch of leaves beneath my feet....the delicious horror of Halloween....

Having always lived in multi-season climates, experience had taught me that, although I always seek those elusive tidbits of happiness -  as each season wears on - I slip into the doldrums. Wishing only for what comes next. Such a tragic way to go about life - simply forgetting to live in the moment. Why not soak up all that I am surrounded by rather than grabbing the binoculars for that greener grass or changing tree off in the distance? As I take a step back from myself, a broader perspective presents itself.

I recently found myself engaged in a long conversation with a dear friend of mine regarding memories. I'm afraid there was a bit of a pity party being thrown, but there was still much truth contained in my words...even if considerably less theatrics. As the dialogue progressed, I began uncovering the REAL circumstances surrounding memories I tried to paint with a more pleasant brush. The pain I attempted to hide by isolating a snapshot in time and focusing on only that small frame. This theme has become quite commonplace in my life. Knowing how prone I am to depression, I struggle to tread the waters around me - to find hidden beauties and camouflaged peace.

All of this is so glaringly apparent in my view of each upcoming season. I have never been one to handle summer with grace. As an overweight and self-conscious child, I dreaded thoughts of heat and the paring down of clothing. In protest of the onset of sadness, I clung to little pieces of time. Memories I could replay over and over again in an attempt to keep smiling: I remember sprawling out under the shadows of our oak trees - closing my eyes to drown out the frolicking children I didn't fit in with. In place of all the giggles and delight was the sound of a small airplane overhead.... when I opened my eyes, I could see the vapor trail delicately strewn across a stunning blue sky. On another occasion, I strolled obliviously about in a park from the heat of the day well into evening... when colors drift seamlessly into black and white and the crickets are deafening.... These moments became my summer. I looked forward to these senses - I frantically embraced them so all the bad could fade away. 

The days pass by faster than they used to - I grow dizzy retrieving each sequential inner box of memories while trying to prepare myself for the onslaught of the future. I am forgetting the moment - and there are so many of them. The moments that matter: The belly laughs of my children... The smell of the sun heating up the pine trees as the wind whips through my short hair... My husband's dimples when he smiles at me first thing in the morning. Simply put: The things that matter.

I've spent so much time painstakingly healing from years of damage I neglected to notice I'm no longer being actively hurt. That fact in itself seems to toss me into a tailspin. Had I created all the drama I felt I needed to recover from? Without so much as a hint of sarcasm, it seems I've hit the proverbial nail on the head. With each passing day, I'm getting to know myself a little better. I'm growing to reconcile the emotions which frantically swirled around in my head for decades. The hurt was real - the negative emotional responses were real. What I believe was an illusion was the intent behind them. Coming to terms with being the epitome of hypersensitivity is quite the experience. I equate such a wild ride to being in a warehouse full of grasshoppers. As I collect each one and place it carefully in the net, the chaos calms just a little more. I have always made apologies, but the season has come to forgive all those who never did. The past is the perfect place for the past and I must learn to leave the dusting for another time.

Today is a new day and I resolve to leave it at that.

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Kitty

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

A Kitty For All Seasons

" Your most cherished dream will die this week, which would be tragic if it weren't to float around in a Texas-shaped pool filled with beer."

This morning, after I had dropped the boys off at school and ventured reluctantly back to work, I encountered the most amazing symbol of the upcoming season: A tree. One lone tree among dozens upon dozens of green towering deciduous beauties. This lone picture of perfection lit up my view with it's seemingly infinite collection of red, orange and yellow hues. Fall. I instantly fast-forward to the smell of pumpkin... a cool nighttime breeze teasing my flesh....the crunch of leaves beneath my feet....the delicious horror of Halloween....

Having always lived in multi-season climates, experience had taught me that, although I always seek those elusive tidbits of happiness -  as each season wears on - I slip into the doldrums. Wishing only for what comes next. Such a tragic way to go about life - simply forgetting to live in the moment. Why not soak up all that I am surrounded by rather than grabbing the binoculars for that greener grass or changing tree off in the distance? As I take a step back from myself, a broader perspective presents itself.

I recently found myself engaged in a long conversation with a dear friend of mine regarding memories. I'm afraid there was a bit of a pity party being thrown, but there was still much truth contained in my words...even if considerably less theatrics. As the dialogue progressed, I began uncovering the REAL circumstances surrounding memories I tried to paint with a more pleasant brush. The pain I attempted to hide by isolating a snapshot in time and focusing on only that small frame. This theme has become quite commonplace in my life. Knowing how prone I am to depression, I struggle to tread the waters around me - to find hidden beauties and camouflaged peace.

All of this is so glaringly apparent in my view of each upcoming season. I have never been one to handle summer with grace. As an overweight and self-conscious child, I dreaded thoughts of heat and the paring down of clothing. In protest of the onset of sadness, I clung to little pieces of time. Memories I could replay over and over again in an attempt to keep smiling: I remember sprawling out under the shadows of our oak trees - closing my eyes to drown out the frolicking children I didn't fit in with. In place of all the giggles and delight was the sound of a small airplane overhead.... when I opened my eyes, I could see the vapor trail delicately strewn across a stunning blue sky. On another occasion, I strolled obliviously about in a park from the heat of the day well into evening... when colors drift seamlessly into black and white and the crickets are deafening.... These moments became my summer. I looked forward to these senses - I frantically embraced them so all the bad could fade away. 

The days pass by faster than they used to - I grow dizzy retrieving each sequential inner box of memories while trying to prepare myself for the onslaught of the future. I am forgetting the moment - and there are so many of them. The moments that matter: The belly laughs of my children... The smell of the sun heating up the pine trees as the wind whips through my short hair... My husband's dimples when he smiles at me first thing in the morning. Simply put: The things that matter.

I've spent so much time painstakingly healing from years of damage I neglected to notice I'm no longer being actively hurt. That fact in itself seems to toss me into a tailspin. Had I created all the drama I felt I needed to recover from? Without so much as a hint of sarcasm, it seems I've hit the proverbial nail on the head. With each passing day, I'm getting to know myself a little better. I'm growing to reconcile the emotions which frantically swirled around in my head for decades. The hurt was real - the negative emotional responses were real. What I believe was an illusion was the intent behind them. Coming to terms with being the epitome of hypersensitivity is quite the experience. I equate such a wild ride to being in a warehouse full of grasshoppers. As I collect each one and place it carefully in the net, the chaos calms just a little more. I have always made apologies, but the season has come to forgive all those who never did. The past is the perfect place for the past and I must learn to leave the dusting for another time.

Today is a new day and I resolve to leave it at that.

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