Into the Woods

An accidental meditation.

It’s Sunday.
6 hours until I’m supposed to send out today’s letter.
I had multiple panic attacks this week. I thought my throat was closing up. That the earth had suddenly lost all oxygen and I was the only person noticing because sensitive people like me are the canaries. I’m fine though. Definitely don’t worry.
There are some big challenges going on in my family of origin.
I partially dislocated my shoulder at the beginning of the week and every time it gets close to resolving, I accidentally make it worse again. We’re hiring a moving truck tomorrow to get the final pieces of furniture to our new house. If my shoulder is not better, I will absolutely pretend it is in order to have this task completed. It has been sitting on my to do list ready to be ticked off for months. Jarrod will say, ‘Don’t lift that.’ And I will say, ‘I’m stronger than you city boy. Walk away.’ (Childbearing has taken a toll on my muscles but somehow not my confidence.) Then I will get injured but I will pretend I fell out of a tree.
Halo had extra needs this week, and I was mercilessly overstimulated and craving alone time and for NOBODY TO TOUCH ME. I felt very ashamed about this.
Lumi has been having extra long naps and sleeping really well at night.
And somehow I am still extremely exhausted.

I don’t want to be writing this.
I want to be watching a funny TV show.
Or at an osteo appointment.
Or sleeping.
I’m mad at myself for holding myself to this weekly commitment.

I want to be in one of those mud baths like in the movies.
Or foraging for mushrooms with someone who knows how not to die, and an adorable basket. I want to cook them on a campfire and for someone to hand me a glass of wine, but it doesn’t taste like wine because I hate wine but it kind of tastes like relaxing.

I want somebody to braid my hair and tell me I’m doing really well, despite the circumstances. I want someone to say, ‘Wow, so much heavy stuff is going on for you at the moment. I’m going to make you some cauliflower au gratin. Do you like peas? I can also do peas.’

I want someone to listen to all my troubles and say, ‘Gosh you love your family so much. It must be really hard having so many family members to worry about all the time. You must be so tired. Your hair’s so pretty. Do you want to take a nap?’
I want someone to make me homemade chai that I drink in my Mumma nest and they sit next to me and start softly playing a guitar. An emotional ballad that nudges my heart in the direction of openness and softness. Then I start singing and sort of crying a bit too. I call out to Jarrod and say, ‘Is Lumi ok?’ and he says - ‘Yes she isn’t biting anyone. She is having fun and being cheeky and is very safe and there is absolutely no danger. We’re in a room made of cushions. I am not even a tiny bit distracted. You can switch off from this now.’

I want somebody to bring me a yellow bike with a wicker basket and to take me on a long, calm, definitely not uphill ride maybe through tulip fields. I want it to be warm but not enough to get sunburnt. I want to have a picnic next to some bushes that turn out to be raspberry bushes. We eat them and nobody yells at us. Actually somebody comes along and tells us - ‘Oh you should eat more of those. They’re just going to waste. It will be a public service. Everyone will be VERY HAPPY with you if you eat these raspberries.’

Then we ride to a cabin in the woods. Oh, my family is there. Halo is playing on a big rope swing over a lake but we’re not nervous at all because she can swim all of a sudden. It’s a bit chilly. We go inside and start the fire and drink warm drinks out of rustic ceramic mugs. Lumi wants to read a book together in the armchair by the fire, and I am very happy to do this because I got to go on a solo bike ride for a long time and nobody touched me and I didn’t get sunburnt and it was very quiet and there was no traffic and it smelt like fresh air. When she climbs onto my lap, she doesn’t accidentally belt me in the eye with the corner of the book. There is much to be grateful for.

We go to sleep in beds with very heavy doonas, but I don’t get hot and sweaty even a little bit. I wake up feeling fresh and clean. The leaves are crunchy under our feet and we are bundled up in warm Autumnal clothes with cute lace up boots that are brown. I spend some time chopping wood for the fire. Nobody is arguing and there is no other responsibilities. No laundry or work or dishes. Especially no dishes. Actually we do dishes in this little stream of running water, but there is just way less than usual. There is just the right amount of dishes to be able to enjoy the ritual of washing them.

Everything is very quiet.
There are no screens.
No sirens.
No washing machines beeping.
No background music.
There are definitely no exhaust fans.

There is also no signposts.
Actually, there is one sign that says, ‘Faerie Sightings Recently.’

The kids say, ‘Mumma, look we’re having so much fun!’ as they run through the fallen leaves and make cubbies. But they only say it once. I smile and say ‘How wonderful!’ I’m sitting on a special kind of log that huntsmans are allergic to. Nobody repeats things. Everything is said one time and then it is quiet again. But an enjoyable, playful quiet that suits everybody and not just because I got annoyed that it was too noisy.
I don’t feel bad about anything. Actually I feel satisfied that we made this decision to have a little holiday in the woods. I feel calm. We don’t think about work or responsibilities or our lapsed car insurance at all. And I am just a neutral level of stimulated. Not overstimulated enough to the point of mental breakdown and not under-stimulated to the point of boredom. Just content.

I find some little pine cones, red berries and vines and make a wreath. We hang it on the front door and every time I see it I say, ‘Ah I love making things. Isn’t it so cute?’ And Jarrod says - “You’re such a clever maker. When you die, everyone will say - ‘she made such cute things’. They’ll put all your creations in museums. I secretly am very attracted to your craftiness. I would love to sit and watch you knit, actually.” He winks. We’re both a little confused about the wink, but we go with it. We find some rustic wool in a big chest and I knit socks for the rest of the day. When I look over at Jarrod, his eyes are shaped like love hearts. When the socks are done, he never takes them off.

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Well, I had no idea where that was going. But I’m feeling much better somehow. And slightly less stimulated. Did I just meditate myself? Dammit. Nobody tell Jarrod.
It’s best he thinks chocolate is the only remedy to my overwhelm.

If I print this out and send it to a therapist, I’m sure they’ll be able to tell me all of my Childhood and Motherhood wounds. I’m going to go make some chai now. And look up yellow bikes on marketplace.

Happy Sunday.

x

Lysette