Feeding the Birds, Enjoying my Sunflowers, and Still Working through the Grief…

Feeding the birds...

Feeding the birds…

I love that the little birds are stealing all of my sunflower seeds. I don’t think I can actually call it stealing, anymore, though. Yesterday, I went out and removed the sunflower heads that had been emptied of seed and cut more heads to hang. The birds have been busy all morning collecting them all. This makes me smile, a lot.

The laundry and dishes got done yesterday and it is really nice not to have those two things looming in the ‘needs to be done’ pile. We divided these two chores: I did dishes, Lance went and did laundry. I still need to put my laundry away, but the clothes are clean and I’m grateful for that. I’ve been fighting off the nasty cold thing that is going around so I think today looks like a whole lot of nothingness. I don’t think I’m even going to do my toe nails. I just am not feeling it today.

Sunflowers 09/19/15

Sunflowers 09/19/15

My garden is so pretty right now. The number of sunflower blooms is sort of amazing to me. I mean, it is the second half of September, days away from the first day of Fall, and these guys are blooming like its mid-Summer. I’m loving this, too.

This is the second time I have grown sunflowers and I have to say that I have come to really enjoy them. They have such character, character I never knew they possessed. Each sunflower stalk has its own ‘personality,’ it seems. Some are bold and in your face, while others seem to be almost shy, and, of course, there are the ones that are just plain goof balls.

The other night, I found a new aspect of my sunflowers. The moon was out, just barely casting a light over the sunflowers and they were almost glowing. It was so pretty, almost magical. I’m not sure I can capture the scene with my camera, but I plan on trying on the next night the moon is out here and not hidden by cloud cover.

Mr. Brucie has never really liked his picture taken

Mr. Brucie has never really liked his picture taken

Mr. Brucie is starting to try out his injured foot a little bit, almost like a cane. It touches the ground, quickly, ever so slightly, as he hurriedly moves his other back leg forward. Poor guy. We are grateful that he got away from whatever it is that was trying to get him. I’ll be happy when he is no longer tripodding it at all because then I won’t be so worried about him. I wish Cerny had fared as well. I miss that cat very much.

I have not been looking on Craigslist for puppies for about 4 or so days, now. I’ve impulsively started to head that direction, but stopped myself. I’m not going to find what it is I actually need through looking at or getting a new puppy. Deep inside, I have always known this, but I think I have finally come to terms with it. I just need to face my emotions over the losses head on. Bummer.

Grief sucks. I know I have been talking a lot about grief, my Tru-dog, some about Cernunnos, lately. My hurt hearts. A lot. Its been a rough few years with a lot of loss in it, and this summer has had way too much to deal with. The back log is pushing its boundaries into the now. I don’t really know what to do about it other than to try to just let myself feel what I am feeling. I get sick of crying but it still comes, sometimes randomly and without warning.

One of the most horrible parts of grieving has been the automatic thoughts that come before I have a chance to process that the thought is no longer valid. We were going down the freeway about a week ago and I realized we were passing Marymoor Dog Park, which is where I used to take Tru-dog all the time, just him and me. I opened my mouth to say “We haven’t been to Marymoor in a really long time. I need to take Tru” when I realized what I was preparing to say. The tears just started streaming down my face, breaking my heart, once again. It took a few minutes before I could talk enough to tell Lance why I was crying. How much heartache can one person endure in a lifetime? A lot, apparently.

I’m doing my best to move forward, but, right now, at least, I think that is looking a lot like just continuing to place one foot after the other. It’s not really living, but it’s not lying down and stopping, either. Ok. I think I’m doing better than just continuing to move, with bouts of stopping when the emotions just take over. Progress not perfection, right? Ugh. That sounds hollow.

How does one continue to just get up when its seems as if life wants nothing more than to knock you down? I know that’s not true, but it definitely feels that way sometimes. I guess I just haven’t figured out what to do about it, yet. Maybe I just need to let go. Maybe I need to stop analysing it.

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About dragonflygypsyusa

Over-thinker with way too much availability to the internet to research whatever might come to mind, amateur photographer, dog enthusiast, learning every day, working on finding my undamaged self.
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