QUESTIONS

I'm trying to get used to this changing energy of mine. I used to know myself pretty well...I could anticipate how much gusto I'd need for various areas of my life and not think twice about saying "Sure...I can help out with that" or "you can count on me" and I was that person who prided herself on walking her talk or doing exactly what I said I would do. I was dependable, responsible and if I said I'd be there, I'd slog through whatever the mud of the day appeared, to follow through on my word. Lately, I'm somewhat of a stranger to myself and I don't always like this older me. I'm trying to be gentle with myself. I've made one commitment that I feel compelled to follow through on. That's my promise to my sister that I will come down to Salem every other weekend to take care of my Mum. At the time she was discharged from the rehab center after her fall in September, I was unemployed. I decided that making this plan to give Sue respite time and hang out with Mom was the most important use of my time and unemployment was a great blessing, allowing me the luxury of scheduling my life around those biweekly visits. Given my sister is doing a huge amount of caring for her, I look at my offer of Friday afternoon to Monday morning twice a month as a piece of cake. Yet each time I go, I am utterly drained and it takes me a couple of days to get back to myself when I return home. Monday morning when I returned to Maine, I walked outside to put my bags in the car at 8:30 am and I sucked the fresh air in for all I was worth. It dawned on me that I hadn't stepped foot out of the house since I had arrived on Friday afternoon. I...who spends at least 2 hours a day outdoors in the woods romping with Sadie and on many days even more...hadn't set one foot outside. When I'm in Salem, I'm on...and it is easy for me to watch myself get antsy and then tell myself to relax...I can do all that when I get home. Consequently...by the time I get home, I'm cranky and irritable and feeling put upon. I take my books and writing and even some felting down with me for diversion and something to do that has some quantum of solace for me to feel like I care for myself as I care for my Mom. But how do I explain the feeling I have of being drained? By Wednesday, I was ready to do some skiing and I showed up to the Locals Challenge to make points for my team...Rooster's Chicks...but it was another windy Wednesday and the race was cancelled.

I notice my energy level is more like Mother Nature's...it comes and goes...sometimes it's behind the fog on the river...sometimes it is hiding in my long johns and once I put them on, I feel perked up and raring to go. First there is a mountain... then there is no mountain...then there is...caterpillar sheds its skin to find a butterfly within! 70's songs bubble up from the sulpher mud of my heart and sometimes the words are wise. Sometimes they are not so inspiring. Nature doesn't always come through to support human plans either, so I don't know why I expect otherwise of myself. My intensions are good but I don't always seem to have the carry through. I find my words are more often things I trip over when silence might be the wiser song to sing. Today, I'm trying to make piece with my emotional neediness. I burst into tears because I've held them back for some time. I try to make myself available as a volunteer at Maine Handicapped and discover that I am the needy, handicapped person I need to help on the slopes. I am so full of unshed tears that as soon as I enter the scene at MHS, I'm raining...dripping...verclempt...unable to be of assistance to anyone. And I leave having broken my own heart. I just don't have the extra to give...even though to my rational mind, this winter seemed like the perfect time to be a volunteer, I find in truth that I am overburdened just being there for my family. I have to laugh thinking of a conversation I had with Mom before she came home from rehab. She asked me if I missed taking care of people...I've done it all my life. I chuckled and told her no...I'm done taking care of everyone. Her response was...Good...at least you know that. And so much for knowing that because I'm taking care of her anyway. My theory that taking care of people can be an addiction is biting me in the butt. It reminds me of wrestling with the thoughts of being addicted to a person in a marriage. A cool, indifferent attitude is not going to result in warmth and closeness in any relationship. In fact, seeing any relationship as an addiction is dishonoring that relationship. Why devalue love by calling it addiction? Why not see love as a higher truth? I take care of people because I care for them...often they are family. I love and therefore, I care...I care and therefore I take care of. It is true that caring too much can burn you out. But I'd rather be burned by caring too much then be so cool that I am indifferent to the needs of the people I call family.

I'm not going to wallow in guilt for not being able to come through for the handicapped skiers. And I'm not going to assume that just because I've worked at something all my life...it will keep working for me. I seem to be as unpredictable as Mother Nature so the best I can do is to dump all my assumptions about myself and allow myself to flow like the river...sometimes hidden in ground fog...sometimes iced over...sometimes ripping and overspilling the banks with unleashed springmelt. Is a river addicted to flow? I suppose you could say that. But why not say it is the river's nature to flow? Then flow seems like a noble destiny... rather than minimizing that noble destiny by assuming the river is addicted to flowing. Can you think outside the box simply by using different words? Am I trapped by the language I use? Freed by the silence? Mmmmm? Sssshhhhh. Maybe this explains my obsession with removing labels and reframing what I see. Now to call work...play.