Apr 122023
 

We love to host a party. With M’s sisters and nephew visiting over the Easter holiday, what more reason did we need to gather 25 more of our friends over for food, drink, and merriment?

Despite not being able to do much, I managed to create table decor and with the help of my SIL, we got the large table indoors and set, plus M had help in the kitchen. Everyone brought a dish to go with the main lamb plate and no one left hungry. Also, a few of our friends have their own wines, so there were drinks-a-plenty to go around. Thanks to a few photographers in the mix, we were able to get a bunch of lovely pictures as well.

It is always fun to see how people will mix and mingle, but with this lot there was no problem at all. It was a wonderful spring celebration where even the weather cleared a bit to enjoy an outdoor fire and laughs.

Happy Easter! 🐣

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 062023
 

Well, my doctor’s visit on Friday last week went positively. They took out the remaining stitches and pins/staples giving us a week off from our next visit, so in two weeks I’ll return for another check up. In the meantime, I will have regular physio appointments closer to home.

My physio sessions are starting to get more intensive as increased mobility and flexibility in the ankle and leg muscles for that area need to be stimulated after nearly six weeks of being unused. It is something odd to observe what used to be a fairly healthy and toned muscle waste away into flabby skin and zero resistance.

The therapist said that it takes 100 days to recover from trauma. This is the case regardless of whether the trauma is mental, physical or a combination of the two. A physical injury carries mental trauma even if we do not realize it.

I tend to think of myself as pretty strong mentally and my physical health is fairly good, but it really is unexplainable the toll that is taken on the mind when the body fails to work as it should. Although I do not fear re-injury or doing something that could cause something else to go wrong, I am aware of a greater imbalance in myself than before.

It takes a lot of mental acrobatics to get myself going each day thanks to the extra effort required for showering, dressing, and getting downstairs or preparing to do something productive for the day. By the time, I am “ready”, I generally feel exhausted and have to push myself to keep going. Using the knee scooter definitely makes a difference from the crutches as I can move around to clean up the kitchen or pick up things here and there since a man-clean is not quite the same as a Tara-clean. πŸ˜…

Still, I feel impatient to get back on my feet.

Each day, I push a little more than I probably should to exercise my ankle to be in the right position for standing or stretch the toe muscles so that when I get the green light to put weight on it, I’ll be ahead of the training game. Of course, I understand that it is very likely that there is “beating” the game in this case, but at minimum I feel as if I am making the effort and doing as much as I can.

It’s hard to accept that I am only about halfway through the recovery process, but at the same time I hardly feel like it was only three and a half weeks ago that I had surgery. So, with the slow there is the quick. No doubt, in another week or so I will be forgetting that I couldn’t walk. 😬πŸ€ͺ

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 042023
 

We got the OK to take a few days off to go to France last week, so we packed up the car and set off on our road trip to Lorgues.

Late last year, we agreed to rent an apartment for a year in the area where we started our European adventure in October 2020. Since we have friends in the area now, it is the place that I/we go back to for a visit somewhat regularly. As I was taking writing retreats regularly last year and had planned to continue them this year, it made sense to have our own place rather than keep doing a round robin circle of staying with friends. Plus, the place has a well-fenced in area for including the pups on a road trip.

We had planned to get to the apartment in early March when it was ready to set up for use and occasional renting out as high season approaches. Obviously, those plans got a bit delayed so we were keen to get there as soon as possible.

Because we also had a dog-sitter helping us for a bit, we took advantage of the chance to go without the dogs for the first visit.

It was nice to get away for a few days even though M had to do most of the heavy work. It was also an experience for me to try to be “normal” on crutches, which was a less enjoyable eye-opening experience and reminder that patience is a muscle that needs constant training.

The really nice aspect of the apartment is that it is located below that of one of my good friends. This means that I don’t have to travel much to see her and we have someone willing and able to help us out in ensuring the place is safe and in good condition when we or visitors arrive.

So, we passed the time organizing the place, catching up with friends, and drinking rosΓ©, which seems to only taste lovely in the French sun.

There is still some work to be done as it is a good size place that needs a bit of home touches, but it has the basics and will be the perfect space for combining my writing retreats and French getaway – plus road trip with the pups! πŸ˜…

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Aug 092022
 

When the voices in my head are quiet, I am not quite sure what to do with myself. I am never clear as to whether or not it is “normal” to not have the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in my mind. I suppose my normal is not this, though it may be for others.

Lately, I have been more in consumption mode rather than output. It is one way for me to deal with the lack of time to myself, keeping to a routine, and general control of my own activities. So, as I have not shared what I have been reading since January, I shall share what I have consumed over the last six months.

Some of these titles I listened to on audio, some I read on my Kindle, and others I read in good old-fashioned paper. None of these titles caused me to struggle through them, which is impressive as I usually find one or two a challenge.

Of these, my favorite fiction read was Pachinko and I am looking forward to watching the series based on it. In terms of non-fiction, the most enjoyable was Will, which we listened to on a road trip before “the slap” occurred and gave us some insight as to how that situation came to be enacted.

So, while I am slow to write new content lately, I am definitely enjoying my reads. πŸ˜…

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 282022
 

There’s nothing quite like a physical purge to reset the mind.

**TMI Warning**⚠️

Yesterday I was continuing my inner rage, which I’m sure was reflected in my somewhat negative energy being emitted to others. M decided to fuel the rage with little comments. One in particular sparked a confused response of anger, frustration, and truth – ‘you’re so negative about everything, maybe you need to reflect more on that’! 🀬😳🀯

First of all, telling someone like me that I need to reflect more is never a good place to start as reflection and introspection is like breathing for me. That was the anger. The frustration and truth was in the fact that I have been negative about many things (not quite everything), but I also couldn’t see a way out of it.

So, instead, I raged a little back at him, hid myself away under the excuse of taking a nap and tried to escape the moment.

After I woke up, I decided a bit of alcohol and shisha with CBD would be a good way to ignite my positivity.

Well, it worked for a while until a headache turned into makings of a migraine began to trickle in. It went from a trickle to an invasion of the mind. Before I knew it, I was in the bathroom losing control of my movements and my stomach contents – at the same time. (I did warn you!)

It felt reminiscent of the times I’ve had food poisoning and the last time last year when I got really sick purging my stomach then as well. However, the addition of my screaming headache made me realize that I had no control over anything that was happening to me. After two bathroom sessions, I crawled into bed shivering and crying from a complete lack of control over my physical situation. With hands pressed to my eyeballs in hopes of pushing out the pain and a concentrated effort to just breathe while reminding myself that pain is only temporary, my brain finally shut off releasing me into the dark sleep world.

Mercifully, I got to sleep through most of the night thanks to M taking over nighttime puppy duty. Generally, any position changes in my body were met with pain in my stomach or a threat of a visit to the restroom. So, I willed myself to keep sleeping.

By the time the sun rose this morning I felt that the worst had passed.

After gingerly testing out the state of my stomach, I think I am OK now. However, I have realized that the loss of physical control also released the mental cloud that was lingering. Even though it seems that long C19 is holding on, I haven’t felt this light and motivated for a couple of weeks now. So, with fingers crossed🀞🏽, a little prayer πŸ™πŸ½ to the Universe, and renewed sense of purpose πŸ’ͺ🏽, I think that I have possibly climbed up over that last hill back into the light. πŸ’‘

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 262022
 

Some days I feel as if the struggle is more real than others. Some days there is no real struggle at all, in fact. However, when climbing up out of a depressive cycle, the struggles can feel like mountains.

On the outside, I think I am fairly well put-together. Even from my partner, I try to hide the tears that occasionally threaten to ooze out of the sides of my eyes (though he usually sees them). On the inside, though, well, it’s a different story.

Despite being a fairly extreme introvert, who can go over a week without noticing that I haven’t left our gates, I know that I need human connection. It’s not simply a matter of interacting with others, but it is feeling seen, heard, and actively responded to by another soul that I crave. Other than M, who does a reasonable job most of the time, I do not have regular meaningful connections with others. My chats with good friends are generally limited to video calls or messages, but that doesn’t quite fill the cup.

So, while I felt my childish inclinations at the surface this past weekend before going out for a social night, I forced myself to make an effort (M really gave me no choice!).

With the help of Jose Cuervo and knowing I had at least one or two backup support in others I knew attending, I “think” I made a new friend with whom I can meet regularly for a coffee and chit-chat. She has her own friends as well in the area, so maybe through some introductions I can get myself out there even more! 🀞🏽

In any case, pandemic life and my own social awkwardness may be heightened these days, but it is time for me to keep my eyes on the sun and keep making the effort to get out there!

Wish me luck!

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 212022
 

There are few things that trigger my negative psyche these days. Thanks to meditation, reading a lot of books for reflection, and general maturity in life through experiences, I always look inward before letting myself get absorbed by other’s actions or words. Introspection is a daily habit rather than a passing whim for me.

So, when I feel injured by others, I really feel it. It has been a long time since I have let myself invest in a space or be amongst others enough that I could potentially be personally injured, but after months of Zoom sessions, chats online, and what seemed like a good connection, I lowered my wall of protection. Unfortunately, due to money – of all things – wounds that I thought were healed proved to be merely scabbed over and when picked only a little, bled.

Regarding the money, I am responsible and I fully acknowledge it. While I do not have actual control over our finances nor much of a say as to my bank balance these days, I agreed to pay for a service and admit to falling short of that agreement.

However, the problem for me lies in the blurred lines of when service melds into relationships. Was I actually paying for readership of my writing? Was I paying for accountability partners? Was I paying for a support group? These are questions I am still processing answers to as I am not quite sure, or perhaps I am just not ready to accept the answers.

If I had stayed with my wall up and looked at the service as simply a service, I imagine I would not have entered that dark space of my mind so eagerly. However, the loss by being removed abruptly, by being shut out completely, by not having a chance for closure was an unexpected and unprepared for moment because I did let that wall down.

Possibly, if I had not gotten excited over the idea of having writing friends, I would have more thoroughly thought about what I was paying for; therefore, making my protective decisions more carefully. Still, hindsight is 20:20, right?

After wallowing for a couple of weeks, opening the dark space that consequently allowed in C19, and reorganizing my mental processes, I am slowly coming back up out of the abyss with a renewed vision and, admittedly, a reinforcement of protection. This is not to say that I am hardened nor closed off, but rather that I know now that I don’t want any aspect of money to determine the answers to my earlier questions. There is a time and place to pay for certain elements in the writing process – no matter how great or small the sum -, but my values are not respected if I allow myself to be in a place where money is more important than relationships, especially when it comes to writing, especially when there is a common understanding that rejection and abandonment are triggers, especially when compassion and empathy are meant to be at the forefront of the ties that bind.

So, without placing any blame on anyone or in any place other than myself and in my mind, I am pulling up my big girl pants and appreciating the experience and lessons learned as I move forward. My writing will get back on track and I am looking at how to create my own space and support networks that may still involve money, but will value the relationships more so that no one else will be forced to visit those dark recesses of their minds when all they want to do is to bring light through their writing. Stay tuned as the ideas develop!

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 072022
 
Florence

Ever since I was young, I have had a fascination with the clouds. Not in the sense that most kids have in trying to create shapes out of the formations and imagining stories as they morph their shapes floating across the sky. Rather, in the sense that there are worlds above them and in them. Depending on their size, scatterings, and density I pondered what God, the Creator, or the other gods were trying to tell us mere mortals.

Once I learned about the Greek gods I would imagine what their world would be like when I was in an airplane and the weather was clear so that in essence we could be flying among them above the clouds. Further, my reading of books about angels fed my imagination to wonder if they were guiding me from my aircraft window seat, or trying to send us messages when I looked up from below. Just as we have the story of God’s promise to mankind from the rainbow, I have always felt that we have messages in the clouds – if we are willing to read, see or hear them.

As a short person, I am used to looking up. When I visit cities, I always find myself nearly running into people because I tend to be walking with my head up in awe of the buildings and the sky above. Before I joined the food photo trend, I used to take tons of pictures of the clouds and how the buildings would look silhouetted in the sky. Occasionally, I still do.

The Eiffel Tower

After spending 18 months away from soaring above the clouds, I was reminded on a recent flight as to why I always choose a window seat. Looking out across a carpet of clouds allows my imagination to see the angels or the gods waving as if we are a boat passing by. I feel I can see them cheering when someone waves back.

From the ground, I love to see two types of cloudy days (don’t mistake this for liking anything but a sunny day). One type is a mostly blue sky spotted with a random fluffy cloud or two that is whisking by. I can imagine the play and racing of the entities above. The other is a dark and stormy kind of cloudy day with light rays shining through providing us the hope of clear days ahead and reminding us that there is beauty even in the dark moments.

So, though I love sunny, cloudless, blue-sky days, I also keep looking up to see if the clouds have something to say or share that will allow my creativity to flow.

In Malta

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 052022
 

Money is one of those topics that is either an expression of love for it – when one has it – or a hate of it – when one doesn’t have it or has a jealousy of others having it.

It is also one of the major stressors in relationships: marriages, partnerships, consumership, and even friendships.

For the most part, I try to be as upfront about money matters with people as I can to avoid having a “financial elephant in the room”. With honesty as one of my top values, which can only be expressed through communication, I believe that if one is not given the opportunity to at least talk about a topic, then there is no way to move forward.

On the flip side, I also do not think that everyone needs to know everything about one’s financial situation – whether positive or negative.

My husband, on the other hand, likes to talk about money. It is, after all, and always has been, part of his professional world. As a financial advisor, he needed to get people to talk about their financial goals, current financial situation, and everything else around how to invest their money for their future. Now, as a fund manager, he talks about money all day. He is not afraid to share how much he/we make a month nor is he reticent to share how he/we spend it – 99% on our house payments these days due to not easily qualifying for a mortgage.

In contrast, I only talk about money as it pertains to maintaining positive relationships. If I owe people money, I talk about it. If they owe me money, I talk about it. However, I never talk about how much I/ we have or spend.

The other day, we had a discussion about M’s ‘oversharing’ (in my opinion) because he tends to share with perfect strangers. Personally, I don’t think that anyone needs to know how much our payments are nor that we can pay them – barely – nor that this will only last until June and then we won’t be struggling at all. In his mind, he thinks he is sharing the struggle and providing a bit of comic relief around the idea of money. In my mind, everyone’s idea of money struggles varies and so him talking about our enormous house payment as a challenge, which a majority of the world cannot imagine such figures, is a form of bragging. Also, logical follow up includes others knowing that we have a very healthy income.

For me, then, I question whether we have friends because they now know that we have money, or if they actually like us.

Also, since we are currently struggling to make the smallest of payments to others once we make one large payment a month on the house, I do not feel it is proper to underhandedly – whether intentional or not – talk about our money matters so nonchalantly.

Perhaps he finally understands my point as we met some new people this past weekend and he notably did not share specific numbers. Funnily enough, these people would have not been phased by the numbers since they were people who run in high circles, but in any case, I’m appreciative that I did not need to worry about that. πŸ™‚

Anyway, while I hate to love money and love to hate money at times, I know that we are fortunate to have such a very first-world problem to debate on the talk of it!

~T πŸ”₯πŸ‰β™‹οΈ

Apr 082021
 

As I cannot breathe through my nose, thanks to allergies, it is even easier to hear me exhale loudly and fully release the dark energies that can easily enter my body and mind.

I’m not a shy person, and I have no aversion to speaking my mind. However, what I have realized (again) is that it doesn’t always serve a meaningful purpose to open my mouth or do anything other than smile and listen.

Since I have arrived in France, and we have settled in with our friends, I have found myself getting caught up in their personal lives. Some are more dramatic than others. Some are more negative than others. Some are more “normal” than others. No matter the situation, the reality is that I do not need to spend time or energy on judging or speculating on their lives. Obviously, if I were asked to be involved, that would be a different kind of conversation, but that is not what I speak of in this case.

I am reminded of Mrs. Rachel Lynde from one of my all-time favorite stories, Anne of Green Gables, who was constantly all up in other people’s business whether or not anyone wanted her to be. While outwardly everyone dislikes her character, we know that she represents a side of every one of us – unless we choose to deny the admittance of this truth. Still, I find that the constancy of being involved in that which is not ours to be so is exhausting and rather depressing, if I’m honest. The frustrating aspect of Mrs. Lynde is that she never stops to consider that perhaps her nose is too regularly plugged up to realize that her breath is never full and so the exhale is never truly cleansing of the dark energies that can fill the body and mind.

Thankfully, I am not that character. Being able to recognize that certain behaviors and thought patterns are not beneficial is a gift that I cherish and am thankful to have been given awareness of. Still, it is easy to get caught up in the whirl of chaos that gets spun.

It is often a point of ponder as to how people manage to maintain an even keel when so much of the world is a swirling dirt cloud like Pig-Pen. It’s easier to see how we can get sucked into the vortex of despair and dismay when social media perpetuates like-mindedness without an off-button, or opportunity, to change the lens filter to realize that there are differing (and acceptable) points of views that are just as legitimate and logical as those we may think, for the moment, are the right ones.

I recently re-listened to the audiobook version of The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman. Like most of the world, I am in awe of her words and presence. She feels like a gift and that whiff of air that forces us to breathe deeply because we want to take in more of the scent of hope and inspiration that she has put out into the universe.

This is the kind of inhalation I want to have that breaks past the blockages of my nose so that the light and hope can enter my body and mind. I’m more than happy to push pause on the words that I may be unnecessarily spewing out and reset so that the energy shades I release are ones that further spread the light, joy, and hope into the world in which I am blessed to exist in.

~T πŸ˜€

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