On starting a new year

From writing class:

. . . it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twentysix and thirtysix . . .

From "i am running into a new year," by Lucille Clifton


It is hard to let go of what I said to myself about myself, pretty much my whole life. I try and I try to overcome those old messages. "I'm not creative. I can't draw. Plain ole Dottie. There's nothing special about me." And on and on and on.

So in the years since retirement, I've tried very hard to make changes in that negative self-image. I took art class and actually enjoyed drawing and painting and working with color. I've started the writing group and love the fellowship and support we give each other. And writing feels good, too. I've always enjoyed creating textiles of all kinds, and that hasn't changed. And SoulCollage has brought out something very special in me.

But it seems that whenever I begin "running into a new year," or into a new place, I trip over something and fall flat, like that sidewalk outside my apartment, or I run smack into a wall, like the insurance cancellation that I found out about yesterday. Just when things are going well, I hit the wall or the ground hard, and then I slowly start to pick myself up. I go into my rooms and shut the door, and try to recover. I get the physical injuries taken care of, and then the mental and emotional wounds must be tended as well. I retreat into my "cave" with my Toby, and try to recover my physical, emotional, and financial health. And I try to recover my self-confidence as best I can.

I know I'll get through this "fall," just as I recovered from the one in November, just as I've recovered from the ones all through my whole life. However, it is frustrating to be "running into a new year," figuratively speaking, and find myself with the wind knocked out of me again, so suddenly and unexpectedly. My hope is that, although the slips and falls will continue to come on occasion, they won't drop me back into the "slough of despond" where I used to live. I may continue to berate myself for mistakes of judgment and carelessness, but I have experienced so much joy from my creative discoveries and self-knowledge, that hopefully the good will far outweigh the bad. What's the line in the song? "Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again." Only I don't have to go all the way back to the beginning and start all over again--just pick myself up where I am and continue on my way--to new life and new discoveries.

The alarm clock

Toby stands by the bed and shakes himself, jingling his tags. I open one eye and look at the clock. As expected, it's 4:00 a.m. If it's earlier than that, I can tell him, "Too early, Tobe. Go back to bed." Sometimes this works, especially when it's before 3:30. But if it's after 4:00, and I'm not moving, he goes into Step 2 of his routine. With frequent bumps of his front feet on the side of the bed, I can hear him breathing, and sometimes he starts his own special quiet whining. Ignoring him doesn't work at all, because he's very determined--and persistent. "Time to get up, Mom. I gotta go out."

With such early morning hours, my times of waking up in the middle of the night have almost disappeared. That's one advantage, anyway, a change from the past years of having to get up, go to the computer, and play computer games to put myself back to sleep. Thanks to Toby, sleep is no longer a problem in my life. Of course, with such a schedule, naps are essential--frequently right after breakfast. Occasionally two a day. I have become "the nap-taker."

He's a very reliable alarm clock, my Toby.