Every day is different

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This week's Red Sky at Night block, Rolling Star. Green is becoming one of my fave colours.

I'm glad it's a new day. Yesterday was....tumultuous. Not because of what you might imagine, but due to rain, memories, and a sense of futility. A decent night's rest alters A LOT. Cups of less than half-caff tea ease the turmoil, and now at 6.13 a.m. I'm feeling able to grasp my life with more than a modicum of relief.

PTSD is a funny thing, in the you never know when it's going to strike column. In the how crippling are events from the past you never consider until they have brought you to your knees arena. In the why in the hell am I still bothered by this, that, and the other even though the crap happened over forty years ago element. Hmmm. Fascinating is the human mind, able to slot away shite from one's day-to-day, then BOOM, there is it in a downpour and merely by God's grace there go I into the maelstrom.

Suffice to say, being in a car in the middle of POURING RAIN and FLOODING STREETS is not my cup of tea. Unnerving. Discombobulating. Freakin' awful, but life contains these lesser moments and sometimes we have to ride them out. Better to ride them out than crumple into sobbing heaps, and I am grateful to be in the former category than the latter. And today is a new day. Yes it's still raining here in Humboldt County, but you bet your sweet bippy I'm not going out in it. And tomorrow the forecast is for dry skies. If I leave home tomorrow, and I probably will, everything will be OKAY.

I will note I accomplished a fair amount of sewing yesterday afternoon; hand-quilting and EPP stitching made me feel less bleh. Brought purpose to my dishevelment. Gave me a sense of accomplishment as I realized why I had freaked out in the car and afterwards. Turned the fear into "Hey, it's all right. You're not thirteen or fifteen anymore and the ghosts of the past can't hurt you." This has nothing to do with Past or Future Me. This concerns the affects of growing up with an alcoholic, abusive biological mother who cared little for her biological offspring. And forty-plus years later I'm still bearing the brunt of that woman's cruelty.

Yet, it's a new day. A different day. Still raining, but not pouring. Still those memories dwell within me, but they don't rule me. I'm still that little girl/teenager in some faraway place in my brain, but I'm also a wife, mum, and abuela; an author, quilter, occasional gardener, tea-drinker; music fan, sport-lover, Great British Bake-Off enthusiast. I am many things, and every once in a while I'm in need of a day when ALL OF THAT coalesces in a manner that requires a shut-down. I almost wrote shit-down, lol, which is also true. But only when the driving rain merges with actual driving, and now I'll be more cognizant to avoid those two items in my daily activities.

Because life is short and while trauma is sometimes unavoidable, best to sidestep it rather than plunge straight forward. Wishing you all a beautiful day.

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