I am at the seaside.
Lest that conjures up Caribbean-style colours and palm trees, let me quickly add that I am on the Wet Coast of British Columbia.
It’s November and therefore tending toward a rather monochromatic mess of greys.
Greys that look like lead blankets, mercury poisoning, wet headstones, crush-you-like-a-bug-granite, bubonic-bearing dirty wool, Stanfield underwear, death shrouds…colour descriptors that I’m pretty sure you won’t see listed on your next bucket of Benjamin Moore. (They are, after all, trying to sell you hope).
These are the kind of colours that could take you into that dark cavernous place if you were not ever-so-vigilant.
Which brings me to my Pee Wee Herman word-of-the-day; Vigilant.
Not Vigilante. Nope. Wrong. I said, Vigilant.
As in one must be vigilant about one’s mental health. Let’s move away from that ‘one’ reference shall we? Let me rephrase; I must be vigilant and take care of myself to ensure I don’t start naming every other colour in the same way I did the greys. This has been known to happen if I stay in the dark too long.
I’m happy to report that my vigilance is paying off.
I’m sitting in front of a glowing fire & in less than an hour my lovely in-laws (and yes, I truly mean that…they’re VERY cool) will be over for a belated birthday cake (actually a pecan tart) & coffee. Their visit will be a lovely addition to a productive writing day. Meanwhile, I’ve eaten enough veggies to open a farmers market food stall, drank tons of water, done the walk…Hell, I’m so healthy it’s almost sick.
I’ve completed just enough chores to feel like some stuff can be ticked off my list, done my 30-minute meditation, caught up on correspondence, spent time outside and made plans for more friend time tomorrow.
And that is part of one of my key pieces of vigilant care; I spend some quality one-on-one time with at least one friend each day. Sitting with this screen for so much of the day can be a risky proposition, especially when I find myself talking – and answering – myself in a crazy-lady-on-the-bus manner. See why I have to be vigilant?
Did I ever tell you about my uncle in the straight strait jacket?
Oh my I love my unintentional play on words! Thanks for pointing that out, it’s a keeper!
It truly is a keeper. I love it.
Your blogs Colleen, where you push the envelope, are my favorite. The way you allow us to see inside the foggy window pain, that most of us let steam over, is forever refreshing, enlightening and quite frankly humble. Especially since some of us tend to self medicate or just make ourselves absent for a day or two.
I myself had a call from sister last night, a big sister call. To that I say Hmmmph. This morning I was up at 5, in all of its bleakness.
But, today I will enjoy my favorite coffee blend, see a friend, help someone, prepare a meal and exercise (some more). I may even do some grade 7 home work just for good measure!
A perfect prescription that my friend Colleen would absolutely approve of, that I know.
Bless you Karen. This getting older thing is really working out pretty well. I feel like I’m finally ‘getting’ the self-care idea. I’m so glad we’re in this together.
And I don’t know if you did this intentionally or not, but you wrote window ‘pain’ instead of window ‘pane’ and it’s such a perfect play on words. The pain through the pane as it were.
I noticed this because I finished this post with a reference to my uncle in a ‘straight’ jacket, and last night, just as I was about to fall asleep, my eyes snapped open and I thought, “No. It’s ‘strait’ jacket.”
And then I thought, “OMG, I think Frankie was my 2nd cousin, not my uncle.” (long story but he was raised as one of my father’s siblings). Oh dear…
Yes, indeed these are the kinds of BIG thoughts I have.
I hear you. Monday the weather was so grey and the apartment so quiet. Decided not to go out at all and was feeling pretty forlorn about the freelance motivation. Today went out and saw humans and suddenly am more optimistic about life. Got to fight off that writer’s isolation!
Hey Carolyn…any time you feel like you need to help kick those dark dogs of winter despair (perchance I exaggerate? I think not), call me for a coffee. I’m SO there. We don’t even have to actually talk. Just being human together works!
Laughed out loud at the grey descriptors… death shroud and stanfield underwear being favorites. Gnarly pewter, yogurt mold ring, bathtub scum (doesn’t that sound like a gang?).
Time to go out to soak up whatever light is left!
You know what? Maybe Benjamin Moore should try these colours. Wouldn’t everyone want to paint their living room in Bathtub Scum accented with Yogurt Mold trim?