Fixing A Hole Where The Rain Gets In…

For the past several days we’ve been inundated with much-needed, but plan wrecking, rain.  An outdoor party on Saturday had to head indoors and with a new musical type: a kitchen band.  Table and chairs hastily crowded into any space available to set up the music, but the revelers were intrepid & carried on – after all, there was still beer – and plenty of it!

The showers turned into a deluge and the end of the night left a muddy path from their kitchen out to our cars after slogging back and forth through the muddy side yard with equipment and other paraphernalia, and I was grateful it was someone else’s house, but felt some guilt at the mess they’d have to clean.

It was so fun to sing and make merry, and I was glad that I only had a couple of beers so I got to watch the party-goers devolve into drunks by the end of the night without the morning regret for me.  I’ve been on the miserable end too much in the past several years as alcohol wooed me again.

In AA’s parlance I’m considered a ‘yet’, and I don’t take that lightly, but it’s very hard to give up when you’re at those crossroads still having choice.  I’ve witnessed many good people done in by alcohol and other drugs, and I don’t want my story to end that way.

Yesterday, it was overcast again, having rained heavily the day before, and getting through the day enervated me so much it was a triumph to get supper going.  Luckily my S.O. helped me rally, and while we were eating our turkey burgers and veggies, the sun rolled out from the thinning clouds like a mercy from the gods, and S.O. said we should go out & play catch.  I balked inwardly, feeling full, and wanting the TV to passively entertain me, but I surprised myself and said yes.

We got outside and the air was warming and fresh as we lobbed the baseball back and forth.  The few clouds left were puffy, some lazily stretched out across the western sky, outlined in various hues of pink, red, and orange, and the bugs were few for about a half-hour.

We switched to hitting and my S.O. puts me to shame with his two and three base hits, while I can barely get mine out of the infield.  I haven’t played ball for many years, figuring I’d be hurt more than I’d have fun, but I was wrong.  I might not throw as hard, run as fast, or hit any better than I ever did, but our time outside, having fun, and just being in the moment created more joy than I’ve had in a while.

I tend to live in fear most of the time because that’s what I learned will keep me safe, as superstitious as that is.  It’s tough to break out of that when it’s wired in my brain.  I make different choices when I’m able, and sometimes I conquer myself, and sometimes my PTSD wired brain does, but I’m most glad that I can appreciate beauty, that my love is intact, and that endorphins still course through my body when I play.

This is probably life’s intermittent reinforcement at its best, but I’ll take it!




© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

Author: Hermionejh

Laughter is my drug.

4 thoughts on “Fixing A Hole Where The Rain Gets In…”

  1. Sounds like you’re doing okay, Jerri. I understand the PTSD stuff (I’ve lived with it) and the fear that sits right under the skin. Just when I think I’ve conquered it all and I feel peaceful and contented I notice a small facial tic beginning again and here comes the fear that I thought was gone. One thing I know for sure about fear is that it is insidious and it hides itself well. BUT, the bright spot is the fear is much less than it used to be and I am a functioning human now, and it sounds like you are too. Love and hugs to you and remember as you continue on your journey, “You matter.”

    1. Thank you Brenda! I’ve noticed change too, but also know we’re ever-changing. There will always be triggers, or times when I’m in the HALT – Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired – states and that makes rational thought more difficult! I’m so glad to hear that the fear is much less than it was for you & that you continue to grow & add to the light. I’ve been down on myself for ‘not contributing’ to life in a way I’d like – vanity mostly, I think – but I am contributing in who I am, in being a safe person, (my bouts of anger notwithstanding because I can be angry & still be civil!). I am remembering you as well, and it is so great to know you’re out there, shining on, and you matter too! Much love, Jerri 🙂 ❤

  2. I remember the mother/son baseball games when my son was in little league. He was a star–homerun hitter, game winning pitcher–even in his youth. The pressure was mortifying. What if his mom struck out? What if I missed a fly? I would always stress, and always do well and have fun. Fun is the name of the game. Glad you enjoyed!

    1. Wow, Renee! I cannot imagine a mother/son baseball game where my son would not be mortified! He didn’t even like me to cheer, and used to say I didn’t have to stay… I did anyway & tried to tone it down! I hope it was a great experience with you & your son, and I’m so glad my body is strong/flexible enough for strenuous play! I don’t take it for granted, especially after needing a neck operation last year, but my hero is Jack LaLanne, and all those exercise pioneers who showed – and continue to show – that it’s possible to have health and strength right up to the day you die!
      I hope you keep enjoying too!! 🙂 Jerri

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