Silence Ain’t Golden Part One
My little A.D.D. riddled brain is always awash in a million things to do, to be, to create, to fix, to ponder, to dream. I always seem to want to share with someone what’s going on. A silent Ricky Griffith is not necessarily a good sign. My quest for balance in my posts leaves me stymied these days. I’ve become hypersensitive to what you may think of all this. It all seems to be coming to a head, a forced resolution. Stop. (means I need to stop and answer Isabel’s call, more later.) I’m not well, but I’m not in jail. So what is there to complain about?
“Bro! Why don’t you just go get a job and stop your whining?” Is that what you think? It’s not as simple as you may think. Come over for a week or an hour or a day, a minute, or ten seconds and be me. STOP. more later.
Whose mind is ever at true rest? If you’re a well practiced yogi, STOP… I was saying if you’re proficient at yoga meditation, et al, you’re probably quite well balanced in you thought processes. I am not. I used to meditate daily, now I just seem to be running around here like a chicken with its head cut off desperately trying to put out little fires all around the barn yard. Poor chicken. Can’t find his head. It’s over there near the chopping block silently screaming to its sprinting body.
“Stop trying to put out all those fires you stupid cluck. Get your ass over here, put your head back on, take care of yourself first. Only then will you be able to put out all those fires. Idiot! Can’t you hear me? I’m HERE! NO! HERE!
So, yes. I think A.D.D. is a factor in my caregiver which is not to be envied. And then there’s the P.T.S.D. Stop. ”Mango”, Isabel is calling. She wants me to go to the store. Fun. Both our bank accounts are overdrawn. S.D.G.&E. will be here tomorrow to make good on its promise to cut the power.
The cool thing is that I’m pretty calm about it since tomorrow is the day I can pick up my refund check from the City of Oceanside for overpayments I inadvertently made on our water bill.
It will be interesting to see if I can get the check Wednesday, cash it, and make it back here to the barnyard before the man with the ax shows up to cut the power. I can handle such an inconvenience quite well. I can focus more on the good things well… we’ll still have water.
But a shutoff sends Isabel into complete freakout mayhem of the mind.
No stress, no strokes. Please, please stay out of the stress zone. Just remember the chicken. There’s always someone in a lot worse predicament than one’s own.