A squirrel steals a black walnut off Gram’s back porch.
I placed the half-full bucket of black walnuts on the ground and took a deep breath. For Gram, it’s not so hard to carry, but I’m still little and half-full is more than enough for me. I turned around and looked back toward her back yard, full of trees, scanning the surface to see if I had missed any black walnuts.
My day began with a flashback. It caught me unaware, arriving moments after opening my eyes. I had been fighting flashbacks on and off for about a week. Using my coping skills, I felt I had won this battle and headed off to work – tired, sleep-deprived, hopeful.
I got to thinking the other day and I concluded I have done a lot of stupid things in my life so far. I’m willing to try anything once. I do things without thinking of the consequences because it seems like a good idea at the time. I’m also dumb.
Each year, the members of Nebraska Press Women gather in the spring for a convention to announce the winners of their communications contest and to provide continuing education in areas members would like to learn. This year, as things have been extremely rough for me, personally and professionally, I debated skipping the event.
When Friday morning came, my husband, Paul, asked me if I still wanted to go. “Yes and no,” I said. I wanted to attend, but am so wiped out from the ever-increasing assignments at work that four days hiding in my house instead looked promising. However, a promise is a promise. I gathered my things and began my journey to Broken Bow, the site of this years convention.
The memories are flames that lick the edges of my life, always anxious to burn me once again. They are always there and always exhausting. I want to cry. I’m angry. I’m tired. Some days, nothing makes them go away. A touch, a smell, anything that triggers the memories can ruin my day.
Spike and Ralph in black and white.
Since it was Spike’s birthday and I know he loves opossums, I called in all my favors at the zoo to arrange a visit from Ralph the Opossum. The zoo does not do this kind of thing for anyone and I am eternally grateful they made a one-time exception to make my friend smile. I hope you had a good one, Spike.
I often tell people that just being me is an overwhelming experience on the best of days. Most people have an idea of what I’m going through, but they never truly know.
I write the words I do here because I’m not ashamed of my diagnosis. I am one small cog in a giant wheel talking about mental illness to help remove the stigma associated with it. I am here for that one person who reads what I write and says, “yeah, me too. I get that.”
Last week, the email and subscribers plugin I use here received a major upgrade. The upgrade came with a complete UI redesign, which always sucks. If it’s not broken, don’t fix it. I figured I would have to get used to where everything got moved and the new look, but it was so much worse than that.
Geoffrey Evert at the Lake Minatare lighthouse.
I still miss the boy who became a man. His wide smile and thoughtful nature could always cheer up my day. I remember all the moments of all the days he was here. On March 17, 2018, the making of memories ceased.
I became a two-time member of a group I never wanted to join. I’m a four-time member now.
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