Slow is the new Thompsononthehill

 

Thank you for all your support, written and spoken, and unspoken because many of you have been round this tree with me before. And it gets tiring. Better give you a warning that I am going to use an Emily Dickinson style storm of capitals in this post. Hundreds of dissertations have been written about her esoteric capitalisation: she had her reasons. So have I. I hope you get it.

I have been Very Unwell. I won’t go into detail but it’s been painful and tedious and it’s not something I do with any grace. I felt like Katy, post fall-from-the-swing and before Cousin Helen’s visit in What Katy Did. Sorry for myself and grumpy. Pain makes you, makes me grumpy. Viruses make me tired. Grumpy and Tired and Sorry for Myself. Not very attractive qualities but hey ho.

My usual strategy for coming to terms with A Difficult Situation is to Go For A Long Walk. Walking even in evil weather adds to my wellbeing. My dad used to say to his truculent teenage daughters, Go outside and get some air round your body. Sound advice. But because of the combination of Yucky Events I have not been able to do this. This makes me Even Grumpier. Another strategy that works for me is A Really Good Clean. I haven’t been able to do that either. Close the curtains and avert your eyes.

Reflecting on this I have learned that my default mechanism for Sorting Things Out is Add More Energy. And I have had no more energy to add. So I have got to learn to Do Things Differently.

I follow some Instapeeps who are crafty: breadmakers and illustrators and printers and knitters and other people who curate pretty things in to a pleasing display. When I am off stamping out my frustration in the wild woods of East Kent, they are pummelling dough or producing objects of beauty whilst gently sipping tea. (I could show you pictures if I knew how to add a link.) I like seeing the way they deal with the vagaries of real life. Real people come through: they’re not just stylists. They Do Things Differently. Which is what I want to do and where I am heading, I hope.

It has become clear that I am no longer 35. 😉  I may feel just as energetic at times but Currently Not. The strategies and resources I had then, are not available to me now and I have to change. At present, having attended a number of Al Anon meetings my benchmark question reflects the first line of the Blessed (Ha) Serenity Prayer, ie God grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change etc etc. So when a decision needs to be made just now I am asking myself “Does this Add To My Serenity? ” This looks so naff lying there on the page but you know, it’s for real. If a course of action right now does not enhance my serenity, I am not going to take it. I am going to distance myself from the crazymakers and do what I counsel My Sainted Mother to do  and she quoted back at me –  Practise Extreme Self Care.

I don’t really know what this means in practice –  breadmaking, crochet and knitting will require a change of pace and Sitting Down – what I do know is there’ll be a lot more naps and I hope a pause before decision making.

I will leave you with a post from Prim, one of my favourite bloggers. Read to the end.

 

https://takinganewpath.wordpress.com//?s=slowly+and+majestically&search=Go

SAM. I love it. I want to do it. I may even get a tattoo.

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4 thoughts on “Slow is the new Thompsononthehill

  1. I wish I was a Sainted Mother. Like you, dear daughter, my family is everything to me. Nothing in this world can come near to the love I have for you all. My heart breaks when you are sad and ill. I want to make it better for you; like every other mother on this earth. I pray for you all every day.
    Be of good cheer, my daughter, soon spring will be upon us. Even today’s sunshine is a welcome foretaste of new beginnings. So, eat cake, enjoy being with our lovely John, be selfish sometimes. You are very like Auntie B. Mother Hen , but too hard on yourself sometimes. Why not try to have an adventure soon? While you are still able to do it.
    As we are all too aware, none of us know what the future holds for us. Who would have thought that my beloved Ian would change so much?
    I love you,
    Mother

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