Retreat @ MindSay

Sometimes I feel like a fraud.  Sometimes I think, this can’t be real.  I can’t be real.

But it’s only in my realness that I don’t feel real.

Sometimes I wonder if I exist outside of my own mind.  My world exists in my mind – why shouldn’t I?  Do other people see me?  Perceive me?  Understand me?

That’s when I feel like a fraud, because I see that the person other people see isn’t really me.  But it’s the only me that they know.  So it must be real.

But it isn’t.

The more I invest in something, the more I want to run from it.  It hurts.  Too much.  To care so deeply about something but to have no one know you care.

To ignore my Cause is to ignore me.

But maybe I don’t exist.

Advance.  Retreat.

Advance.  Retreat.

Advance. Retreat.

Retreat.  Retreat.  Retreat.

To all appearances, I’m doing well.  Nearly half my evenings are spent with other people – people I love and enjoy and generally am glad to know.  I am slowly learning the art of idle chatter as I pretend I’m interested in the lives of workmates whose names escape me.

Small talk.  Hah. It’s ridiculous, that something called small could be such an insurmountable mountain, a fierce battle from which I rarely emerge victorious. 

Let me hide in my bunker.  Crawl into my shell.  Disappear from the world.

Retreat.  Retreat.  Retreat.

Why am I to be the strong one?  I am weak, so very weak.

Why am I to be the practical one?  I live in daydreams, fanciful daydreams.

Why am I to be the nurturing one?  I can’t even figure out how to properly care for myself.

Words used to be my world.  Stories, songs, books, journals.  But my reading comprehension is dipping.  I miss things. I lose track.

I’m tired.

How do people do it, survive in this world?  The more I engage with people, the more exhausted I become.

Would it be so terrible to find me a small cottage somewhere, and live the reclusive life of which I’ve always dreamed?  Why is community so important, anyway?  Why is this the big battle from which I am unable to escape?

Retreat.  Retreat.  Retreat.

I need a break.

Sometimes, I don’t like myself when I get like this.  No, not sometimes.  Always.  I hate being vulnerable.

But I am like this.

I wish I were perfect, but I’m not.

I wish I were better with people, but I’m not.

Yes, I can be charming.  I can be outgoing.  I can be warm and welcoming.

But sometimes, it all feels so false.

Why are people so hard to love?  Why do I love them anyway?  Why do I care if I love them or not?

Why do I tell myself it doesn’t matter if they don’t love me back?  Shouldn’t it?  Shouldn’t it matter?  To bestow my affection on someone is no easy task – so why am I so willing to throw it away on those who don’t care?

Why do I even ask these questions?

Why can’t I stop caring about people when they exhaust me, they frustrate me, they pull me in directions I do not wish to go, nor believe I should go?

Just let me be alone.  Let me sit and think and be alone.

World, you tire me.

So I retreat.  Today, tomorrow, this week.  I retreat.  Lock myself away.  Disappear into silence.

But I will never stop fighting.

I’m too idealistic.

 

Being a true Cancerian and with the price of gas, we are going to be spending more time in our backyard than ever.  After working really hard rebuilding our kitchen and bathroom, we tackled the backyard, this time with help both from a landscaper and a yardworker, though my spouse & I spent lots of time working on it also.  My younger son has done all the arbors, trellises, etc.  The garden gate (one of 3) is being built right now (unfinished, the 3rd photo), in the Japanese tradition, which fits with Victorian homes.  It will have a roof and an inset gate, which he is designing right now, most likely with some metalwork, as he does that also.  This has been an incredible amount of work, but it is coming together.  There are construction messes around, and the little building in the garden is not finished either.  The water tower is the large two-story building that you see near one of the arbors.  In the west, the old homes had water towers, which had a large water tank on top to hold water from the wells and from winter rains.

 

All the plants are newly transplanted so they are pretty small though they have already begun to grow.  The exception is the side garden, which still has most of my old plantings.  The arbors and trellises will all have roses, clematis, jasmine and other climbers eventually. 

Weather permitting, I hope to head off on my retreat tomorrow. If all goes well it will be about a week before I get to a computer unless I decide to spend a little time sipping a Chai Latte at an Internet Cafe. Otherwise I'll be "silently" spending some wonderful time with myself in meditation and study. I may bring my dog so she can have some fun running through the snow and trees.

 

Wishing everyone well ... and a wonderful week!

 

Namaste'

Heather

I love my bedroom.  It is my retreat, my refuge, my sanctuary, my boudoir.  I go there to rest, hide, think (yes, I do that), and love.  The room is painted in two seemingly opposing colors: a passionate plum and a warm golden yellow.  At first glance, you would think these two colors would clash and cause chaos, but they don't, they blend together in a strange harmony...much like my personality.  My bed is huge, the mattress comfy with an underlying firmness, and plush softness on top...much like my physical body, haha, the similarities abound!  There's one huge window that allows the sunlight in, in all it's blazing glory, which made me go out and get a set of thick, dark curtains to tame the blinding desert light and heat.  In my room, I also have a huge comfy chair, a tv and various dressers and night tables.  I have everything to sustain me in times of required rest.  I needed that rest two days ago when I came down with, what I think was, food poisoning.  I woke up that morning and knew I wasn't 100%.  My first words to my mother-in-law were, "I'm just not feeling right."  That morning I attempted to go about my normal day, but by early afternoon I knew something was up (literally), and I crawled upstairs to my bedroom.  Feverish, chilly and achy, I fought the queasiness in my stomach by sleeping and watching bad tv.  It brought back memories of being sick when I was pregnant with my daughter:  2 solid months I spent in that bedroom (different bed, back then I had the "Klingon" bed, all solid firmness, no plush) feeling like I had the worse combination of motion sickness and a hangover, wishing I could be put out of my misery, and saying that this kid better be worth it (she is :) )  So, whenever I'm sick, angry, tired, or just need some time alone, you'll know where to find me...in my retreat, my refuge, my sanctuary, my boudoir...my bedroom.