Yesterday’s woes

Spider on web between electric wires on garden fence.  What kind of spider IS it?

Some of you have been wondering where the heck my blog post Prayer for the teensy weensy spider went.  A few faithful readers received their email yesterday inviting them to visit Lake Superior Spirit and discover the whys and wherefores of that wee creepy crawlie.  Imagine their surprise when no such post appeared here.

“Page not found” says the link, according to John and Sybil and Pam.

These dear readers sent messages, comments and emails inquiring “what the heck happened to your post?”

OK, here’s the good, the bad and the ugly.

Through the screen gently an hour later

I had a terrible day yesterday.

It wasn’t one of those light cheerful loving delighted connected singing days.  It wasn’t happy, delighted or inspired.  It felt challenging from sunrise to sunset and beyond.  Nothing hugely awful happened.  It just all felt wrong and sad and impossible.

First, I had not left the house since Friday.  Had accomplished the to-do list by early Saturday morning.  Nothing outside our little house beckoned.  It was one of those “long weekends” and not the cheerful kind.

My health challenges have continued since this blog post in July.  Fortunately, I have an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist with Marshfield Clinic in Wisconsin (via a closer satellite clinic in Minoqua, WI) in December.  While this is not an acute challenge, it’s still an ongoing chronic issue that keeps on keepin’ on.  It wears on a person, as those of you with chronic health issues will recognize.

The way life changes...

I awoke on Monday morning to snow falling steadily in the woods.  My dear friend Ruth and I had to cancel our morning tea date, thanks to too much unplowed snow in both driveways.  By late afternoon when Barry plowed we had about ten inches.  The weather folk had predicted three.

It seemed apropos to write a blog post.  I scurried to the computer and began typing.  This one was titled “Trying to decide” and it carried on for maybe 700 words about how WordPress is holding me hostage for $96 and will not allow any further blog posts to be written until yours truly coughs up the annual fee.   It was a kinda funny post until it started losing steam in the middle.  By the 701st word I trashed it.  Forget this.  Apparently blogging isn’t working today.

The straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back:  Barry forgot to bring home the requested bar of dark chocolate.  I almost wept.  It was getting desperate, friends.  I attempted to remind myself of what really counts in life.  Of humans with REAL struggles.  Of horror stories in the news.

That only compounded my angst.

One apple just ever-so-slightly dusted with snow a while ago

After dinner I attempted one last creative post about the before-mentioned teensy weensie spider.  It involved God and spirituality and spiders.  It was a heartfelt prayer begging the Universe.  (It really didn’t have much to do with spiders, although I COULD tell you a story about spiders that would scare your socks off.)

Pushed “Publish” before thinking derailed the second blog post of the day.  About five minutes later I pushed “Delete”.  It just felt wrong.  Too much angst.  Too much fuss.  Too much transcendence.  Too much positivity.  Too much, too little, too wrong.

Kind of like the entire day.

The Internet then went out, sticking out its tongue as it disappeared. So much for my two hour online spiritual class.  I went to bed.

The End.

Share your own heart stories, my friends

Share your own heart stories, my friends

Except, of course, we wake up the next day.  This morning it’s not snowing.  The sun isn’t shining, but it’s not snowing.  Town beckons.  A cup of coffee tastes delicious.  I listened to a spiritual audio and felt this heart escaping the confines of yesterday’s jail and breaking out into a quiet sense of peace.

I vow to keep this heart open always.  Why in the world had it shut down this weekend?  This is a vow I make and break a thousand times.  Don’t you?  The heart opens, it closes.  The heart opens, it closes.

Part of me dreams that someday the breathing heart will stay open forevermore.  That all our breathing hearts will stay wide open and that love shall prevail.  In the meantime, let’s hold each other up during those times when we’re struggling.  Let’s take turns standing in the dark and then pointing to the rising sun.

Sunrise, because it happens every day

P.S.  Part of me wants to delete this post, too.  It feels too “all about me”.  Yet, I suspect we’ve all had days like this so maybe it’s “all about us”.   xoxoxo

About Kathy

I live in the middle of the woods in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Next to Lake Superior's cold shores. I love to blog.
This entry was posted in November 2018 and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

48 Responses to Yesterday’s woes

  1. Stacy says:

    I’m glad you did not delete this one, Kathy. I always find comfort in your words, including these about the lost spider post and all that this entails. I wish you healing as I understand how draining chronic health problems can be.

    An aside – we always called him the itsy bitsy spider. And in French, l’araignée Gypsie. XO

    • Kathy says:

      Thank you so much, Stacy. Your words feel like balm this morning. How I love the name of the spider in French! It sounds like a magical web of syllables. And, yes, we also call it the itsy bitsy spider. But also the teensie weensy one. Unless I made that up when the kids were young. 🙂

  2. debyemm says:

    Mama said there would be days like that. HUGS !!

  3. Carol says:

    Sometimes we need time of being all about me in order for it to then be not so much about me. Especially when the body is being unkind. Feel better – soon! Hugs.

  4. Kim Gagnon says:

    I’m also glad you didn’t delete this post Kathy. We all need each other to lean on from time to time. Sending you thoughts and prayers, Divine Healing Energy and holding the space for your open heart. I think, perhaps, though it feels like the heart shuts down, it’s really breaking open to allow more. I’m grateful for you. Happy Thanksgiving!

    • Kathy says:

      Kim, I am appreciating all your sturdy shoulders, hugs and divine healing energy. For the space holding. And I do so agree with you about the heart breaking open to allow more. A good way to look at it. Thank you and Happy Thanksgiving to you as well!

  5. Lori says:

    Well hell, no chocolate bar and I’d be punching a hole in the wall. Especially when it’s the only thing that can fix a funky mood. I always feel like my blog posts are too “all about me,” but after I post them, I find that people liked it because they related and didn’t feel so alone. I’ve had plenty of these kind of days you described, and like you, they passed. So, I could relate. BTW, I also can relate to wearing health issues.

    Having said that, my day yesterday was a doozy, and I posted about it today. It’s titled Chaos and Calm. 😀

    I hope you feel better soon and have a Happy Thanksgiving. Stay warm up there in the frozen tundra. We only got a couple of inches out of that snow, and it’s almost melted now.

    • Kathy says:

      Guess what, Lori?!! Barry brought home a bar of dark chocolate for me today. He felt awful about forgetting yesterday. I ate half a bar immediately. *smile*

      You know, just like you, I notice that people often like the “me” blogs a lot. You are right–they are somehow more relate-able. Sometimes my least-liked posts are the spiritual ones. But there’s part of me that likes writing them soooo much.

      Thanks for the good Thanksgiving wishes. May you have a happy gratitude day as well!

  6. Barb says:

    I thought your last post about constantly receiving little bits of others and giving little bits of ourselves rang true. Your post today sent me the message that we are all human with stories that are sometimes impenetrable and unknown (unless we trust sharing). So often lately, I’ve wondered about the stories of others, many of whom I meet only in passing. I like this awareness of others – it keeps me from judging too quickly. I’m glad you have an appointment for a medical consult. I hope you can have a dialogue with the DRs and figure out this health issue. Not feeling well physically makes us more vulnerable emotionally. Hugs from me to you.

    • Kathy says:

      Barb, reading your comment cheered me up tremendously. To think that you are thinking so thoughtfully about blog posts, pondering them, wondering about so many things. It feels like you are slowly digesting things, staying with them. I think sometimes I move too fast at times. Perhaps this is part of the lesson about the “digestive challenges”. Looking forward to seeing that doctor, for sure. And if he doesn’t have answers may be heading to Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Thinking about you and Bob a lot. Wishing you well this Thanksgiving week and beyond.

  7. Judi says:

    Oh my. Those days are SO HARD! Thank you for posting ’cause it’s always helpful to know this is how it is for others — not just me. 10 inches of snow and no chocolate, ongoing health issues! How have you survived!?!?
    Hang in there wonderous being. I don’t even think you need to vow never to go there again (though you can if you want) . . . just blog about it when it happens and we’ll be so thankful to read that life just had one more “Whoops!” and then it didn’t. Hugzzzzz

    • Kathy says:

      Judi, it was so interesting. I noticed that you liked this post earlier and had a 100% intuition that you would write a comment and looked forward to it so much!! You are so right about not needing to vow this, but the vow comes up over and over again anyway. It seems to be a deep longing that doesn’t ever really go away, this desire for action to move from wisdom and heart and soul instead of thought. If that makes sense. Which I suspect it may to you, wonderous being yourself!

  8. Well, heckfire and grumplestillkins. I had a similar experience on Sunday. Nothing, nothing seemed to bring peace or even a mediocre sense of contentment. The inner two-year old would not be quiet. “I don’t want to” was her incessant mantra. Not even the relief of a brief cry showed on the horizon. Sigh… So wonderful when we can all relate to our human-ness. So so glad you shared this post!

    It is amazing to me the toll the physical can take on the emotional, spiritual, mental … I still have discouraging days when I’m just too damn tired, and my brain still isn’t in great working order, and I wonder if it ever will be again? I’m so hoping there will be some positive developments for you soon as you explore what Marshfield has to offer.

    Lots of love and relating and spiders and snow banks and coffee and chocolate bars, and Peace, my dear friend. Thank you for posting!

    • Kathy says:

      Heckfire and grumplestillkins! Only you would say such a thing. Have I told you I adore you lately? And to think that you had *one of those days” as well. Not surprised. I was just thinking that it’s been almost a year–the end of November–since we drove that first time to radiation together. What a strange and magical day that was, right? I am so happy that you are doing so well these twelve months later, but can imagine that there are discouraging days. Thank you for being such a faithful friend, good buddy. Ten four. Over and out.

  9. john k. says:

    A “Me Post” is entirely appropriate. We come here because we are interested in YOU, not because we are expecting to be positively entertained. A journal has up days and down days, inspiring days and days that yuck is king. I had a fear that you did something reflecting badly on the President and you had your blogging privileges revoked by the White House. Ten inches of snow is something I want to know about and when aches and pains of chronic conditions weigh heavy on your mind we want to hear that too. Misery loves company. 😉

    • Kathy says:

      Thank you for your dear continued support, John–and your email first thing this morning. One of the reasons that it feels important to write these kind of posts is to balance the la-de-da spiritual posts that I love writing so much. It’s the human along with the divine, always. Apparently. Ha ha about blogging privileges revoked. You are a HOOT!

  10. rehill56 says:

    Love you human bean.💖😁

  11. Oh, Kathy, I’m so sorry to hear of your really bad day…but I’m glad you took the time to share. I definitely identify, and am sure many others do, too. Some of my worst posts, the ones where I reveal shameful secrets about sloth or meanness or misery, are the ones that get the most response. Not the “good writing, Cindy,” comments that I love so much, but rather the, “thank you so much, it’s wonderful to know I am not alone,” ones that, in the end, mean so much more. I hate to hear that you’re still struggling with frustrating health issues. I’ll be thinking of you, and hoping the next appointment gives you some clarification and relief. I’m sorry for Barry, too, though that is based solely on knowing what MY response would have been to him showing up without the chocolate. I try to keep one largish bar of dark chocolate on hand, so that I can break off one small square whenever I absolutely need it. Blessings to you, and best wishes for long strings of inspiring, hopeful and happy days!

    • Kathy says:

      Cindy, you are so right. I think people do love to read human challenge stories. They are perhaps soothed by realizing–in a concrete way–how we’re all really the same in many ways. I know I am soothed and inspired when people write from their heart with sharing and vulnerability. Brene Brown and Anne Lamott do it so beautifully. It takes courage to share some things we’d rather keep hidden, sometimes even from ourselves.

      Thanks for the health issue words of encouragement. Can’t wait to hear what the doctor might say. As for Barry–oh my–what a sweetheart–he showed up after work today with a bar of almond sea salt dark chocolate! I was so touched. He felt terrible yesterday about forgetting.

      Many blessings to you this Thanksgiving season!

  12. Alanna says:

    Sometimes it just hard to be human.
    Sharing your vulnerability is appreciated.
    It makes the rest of us not feel so inadequate.

    • Kathy says:

      Alanna, I am glad. We are all in this boat together. Sometimes one of us has to quit paddling through our blue moods while the others take up the slack. Blessings and gratitude!

  13. sybil says:

    I keep bars of 85% dark chocolate in the fridge and eat some DAILY so I understand your need. I think you DESERVE all the dark chocolate you want. So your doctor appointment is a “virtual” appointment with a doctor in another state ? Ya gotta tell us about that.

    I think being ill for a prolonged period must be very difficult emotionally as well as physically.

    Be kind and patient with yourself.

    I think showing yourself at your low point is helpful to the rest of us who often find ourselves there and envy you your balance and self assurance.

    You are always teaching us.


    • Kathy says:

      Sybil, thank you again for your kind messaging last night and your impish sense of humor. You provided a smile during a dark night.

      It is actually not a virtual doctor’s appointment. It’s a real one, about 2.5 hours south of here. I will look the doctor in the face and share all my woes with him. OK, maybe only the physical woes. *smile*

      As for balance and self assurance, they are sometimes here. But not always. So there’s no need to envy–ever.

      Thanks for the hugs. Hugs back…

  14. k says:

    You forgot to mention that somewhere between the internet going out and you going to bed you had a delightful talk with your daughter! Ha!

  15. Brenda says:

    Kathy, I am so glad you didn’t delete this post because yes, you are right…we all need each other!!! Please…don’t ever feel like keeping your struggles to yourself…share them with us and allow us to help carry the weight of worries, concerns, fears, let-downs, disappointments, and heartbreaks. I need to practice this myself because it’s always been my nature to keep my struggles to myself so I don’t burden others. This is why I’ve been silent for awhile. So, now I am standing alongside you and praying with you as we look toward better times. I am also sending love and hugs your way because I also know what it’s like to suffer from chronic health issues. Hang in there honey and lean on me whenever you feel alone. ❤

    • Kathy says:

      Brenda, thank you dear prayer-being. We are all in this stew of life together and we’re getting cooked and softened and opened, I guess, if it doesn’t kill us. *smile* I hope you have a few close friends that you can share your heartbreaks with. I have a couple whom I talk with regularly, sharing all the ups and downs moving through. Brene Brown says it’s important to share with those that we feel safe and supported. So, even though I don’t always share my struggles here on the blog, I do share them with friends. Feel free to email me any time you need a listening ear. This heart will make space for what you have to share. It’s learning how to do this more each day. I hope.

  16. But writing about “me” IS all about “us.” We share a universal language of love, loss, pain, joy, crankiness, despair, and ‘ah ha’ moments that make all this worthwhile. I don’t want to hear about ‘generalities’ when I read a blog post. I want to hear the nitty gritty, which you give us, your devoted delighted followers, each time you share here on WP. It’s worth the $96 (that’s $8/month) – we readers certainly get your money’s worth. 🙂
    Now, relax, heal, know that there is so much love surrounding you from around the universe. ❤

    • Kathy says:

      Ha ha, loved reading your words, Ms. Pam. It IS all about Us, isn’t it? The particulars are also always about generalities, and visa versa (at least that’s what the typing fingers just wrote. Hmmm….) Devoted delighted followers! Everything inside smiled imagining that might be true for an instant. As for the $96, it’s just that one inner voice keeps saying, “The Universe might decide to quit blogging tomorrow and then it’s just a big waste of money.” It’s not really about spending the money…it’s about not knowing what’s going to happen. It’s about how to exist in not-knowing. I am getting better at learning to do that, but falter now and again. xoxoxo

  17. Kathy — I’m glad you didn’t delete this post.

  18. Elisa says:

    Yep! Restless, Irritable, Discontended still with that always process /progress thing. I note I keep expecting a ‘good’ thing to feel this way and then to staple it down, getting it meaning it stays. Not knowing what to DO with that icky feeling in between. I tend to notice I try escaping it a LOT. OH, that’s similar to the other thing I did to escape things DOH. So, what do ‘normal’ people DO or BE or what even do they call it, in that pause space, roiling crankyish dead space? Last night someone said to me, OMG you don’t know what bored is do you?!?! And i said no i’m never bored. I described no i don’t really care about that, I can’t pay attention to this. I just can’t and sorta don’t really want to engage and the silence is not silence it’s this awful noisy non formed overload…she laughed and said Honey, that’s bored. i HATE it!

    • Kathy says:

      Oh Elisa, big morning hug! Yes, yes, yes. That escaping mechanism when we don’t know what to do with the icky feeling in between. I think “normal” people all experience it, except maybe crafters and those who have filled their life to the brim with “doing”. I always have wanted to be a craft person so I would never experience boredom, emptiness, not-knowing. But another parts wants to learn to meet boredom in the face and learn to love it. If not love it–at least make room for it. Roiling crankyish dead space. Yes. It often feels like the whole spiritual journey has been learning to relax into that place instead of RUN toward something else. Because I have HATED it too. Sometimes it feels like I’m learning to accept and soften into it, but other times not. We’re all holding each other’s hands through this…

  19. Val says:

    I’m also glad you didn’t delete this post, Kathy. I love your posts – whether you’re in a good mood or bad, whether you’re writing about yourself or others. Whatever you write, is from your heart, even if your heart is aching or hurting, or loving. You’re just you. Stay that way. Hugs.

    • Kathy says:

      Val, this is such a lovely thing to say. You are right–it feels so important to write from the heart. (And am always just learning how big a place our hearts can be, in so many respects.) You will be the first to know that I just renewed this site for another year. Hugs back to you…

  20. Hi.

    Great post!!

    Thanks for sharing. ^_^

  21. Elin England says:

    Some days are like that, even in Australia. Thanks for sharing your humanity. As JZ says, hello human! It is good to remember that the funky feelings can come and go, and the rock solid shining essential YOU is always there, even when you aren’t experiencing it directly. Hugs!

    • Kathy says:

      I have learned to love that saying, “Hello human!” So much mercy in those two words. Love how you describe the essential part that is always there, no matter what’s happening, no matter how we’re feeling. Hugs, dear Elin!

  22. Oh yes, I’ve had days like this, too, Kathy. And when hubby forgets to bring home a special request like dark chocolate… Nothing seems to help. But like the weather, this too shall pass… Though chronic health problems do wear us out, even if they do open our hearts to be more compassionate. (Spoken as one suffering from chronic migraine for most of my life.) I’ll be thinking of you and praying that the gastrointestinal specialist will help you find answers and some relief. *hugs*

    • Kathy says:

      Barbara, I am glad you understood about the dark chocolate challenge–lol. (Although the next day he brought me home a bar unexpectedly. He felt so badly about forgetting the first time.) I also like what you said about chronic pain helping to make us more compassionate. That is so very true. Guess maybe we don’t usually quite have that capacity unless we’ve suffered some. Although maybe some people do. Am looking forward to my appointment this upcoming week. Just to see what he says. It may just be another “first step” in some new direction, but am ready to take it. Blessings to you, as well.

  23. It is how I feel so many days. Knowing I am not the only one helps. Thank you for posting and very happy that the “happy Kathy” arrived in due time.

    • Kathy says:

      Linda, I suspect many of us feel this way at times–but we don’t usually talk about it. My mom and I talk about this a lot. It’s challenging for her since my dad died, sometimes on a daily basis. It’s good to know that we’re not alone in this. Hugs to you…

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