Wow, did I ever have a lousy night's sleep. It felt like I never fell asleep the whole night. I just mediated my way through. I never felt tired, and I wasn't tired when I woke up, but I sure missed my deep satisfying sleep. Let's see what tonight brings. Is this a result of my grief? I had insomnia for years after my dad died when I was fifteen. It was a nightmare. It could also be a result of my withdrawal from the statin. I don't have the body aches anymore, and I'm certainly not sleepy.
It poured last night. First, it started raining, then it poured harder, and then it poured even harder and then even harder. It was scary. There was a break in the storm pattern, so I got to walk Elsa this morning. However, as I drove to Bikram, I got caught in a squall so intense it was hard to see the cars in front of me. It was short-lived, only in that spot. At Bikram, the rain was over if it ever hit there in the first place. It was good to get in the heat.
I had PT after Bikram, but I had time to stop off at Target and pick up some storage bags so I can organize the linens. Katie, the PT, worked on my left foot and my left calf. She had told me last time to work on stretching those muscles. I discovered that my left ankle is constricted while the right is not. She also worked on the muscles around my waist, which initially brought me to PT in the first place.
I went straight home after PT and did some work on the linen closet. I put the towels I was keeping back in the linen closet, although on different shelves. They will be easier to reach that way. I counted twenty-one towels, all for beach use. It may sound like a lot, but one time after a five-day visit, Damon and August had used fourteen towels. I also started sorting through all the old bedsheets. There are three sets and some miscellaneous cotton sheets. I don't know where they are from.
I showered and headed off to school. Both Mrs. D. and Mrs. B. had subs. I started with Mrs. D.'s room. D. was sitting with the sub who said his behavior had been okay. When asked D., he didn't want to come. It was free time. I don't blame him.
I went to Mrs. B.'s room. I had her D. read the transcribed stories. He did somewhat better. I asked him directly if he had trouble naming objects or only letters, words, and numbers. He said it was only the latter. I told him I wanted to know because different parts of the brain were involved. He said he saw a change after the spin release work we did last week. He read reasonably well, making a few mistakes, but I make some too. He asked for copies of the transcribed material to take home.
Then I worked with I. I also worked with the transcribed material. I had him read two stories. He made some mistakes, but what was interesting is that he was processing differently. It's slow, but I'm hopeful.
Then I went back to Mrs. D.s room. D. came out and said he wanted to work on math, division. I asked him if he understood the division was a form of subtraction and multiplication was a form of addition. He didn't have a clue. I showed him two addition problems: 2+2+2+2=
Versus 2+3+2+5= He could see the difference and understand why the one with the repeated numbers could be changed from an addition problem to a multiplication problem. He had a little more trouble with the relationship of division and subtraction but got that too.
B. and N. were both absent, so I moved over to Mrs. L.'s room to work with her D. He didn't want to come out. He spent a lot of the time asking what time it was and if he could go back into the room. I give students a lot of choice unless I'm faced with this type of resistance. Then I put my foot down.
D. went back and forth between wanting to work on math or reading. For the reading, I had him read the transcribed stories. Word recognition is not his main problem. He sailed through three of the stories and then balked on the fourth. He said it was going to be too hard. I asked him if he was afraid he was going to make a mistake. I have been theorizing that his fear of making a mistake drives his disruptive behavior.
He admitted that he felt terrible when he made a mistake. I asked him if he thought I made mistakes. He said no. I can see it from his point of view. I don't make many mistakes on third-grade work. He seems to be under the impression he is the only human being cursed with this frailty.
I asked him if Mrs. L. yelled at him when he made a mistake. No. Did I yell at him when he made a mistake? No. Did anyone in his family yell at him when he made a mistake? No. I pointed out that the only person who yelled at him and made him feel bad was him. I told him that I cared about him and didn't like anyone treating him that way, including him. I finally had his attention. I suggested when he makes a mistake, he should say to himself, "It's okay. I forgive you. I love you." This is a variation of the Ho'oponopono that came to mind. Let's see how it goes. If it goes well, it will be life-changing for this little boy.
I spoke to Mrs. L. after the children left. She was supportive, but we both aren't counting on this as being a magic bullet.
At home, I had a brief nap. I didn't take Elsa for a before-dinner walk because of another downpour. Yvette came up to say good-night and noticed that the floor mat by the door was wet. Hmmm! Thank you, Elsa, for solving the problem so conveniently.
Damon called while I was making my smoothie for tomorrow morning. He has been fantastic. He makes an effort to be there for me. Currently, he is involved in a major project at work, and he hasn't called as often. He is the producer of a movie at DreamWorks. I'm not allowed to tell you what it is about.
We talked about a range of things. There was talk about the New Hampshire primary in Dixville Notch. They actually mentioned the Balsams, which had been a high-end hotel in the forties. My family went there for a week or so in 1949. My sister and I stayed in the kiddies' cabin. It was a pre-camp sleepover experience. I have a picture of my parents around a dinner table with other guests elegantly dress. My dad had on a white jacket with a bow tie. My mom had what I would describe as a prom dress. I can still remember it. They looked so elegant, good looking people.
Damon asked me if I remembered being there. It is interesting, I remember the face of one of the counselors, a bike accident I had, and Dorothy throwing up all over my mom.
The day we left, my parents made a point of telling the counselors not to feed Dorothy too much for breakfast. She suffered from car sickness. Unfortunately, she was such a cute button; they stuff her to the gills. We were driving along with Dorothy sitting in my mom's lap in the front seat. This was before seat belts no less restrictions on where children could sit.
As we approached an intersection, Dorothy announced she had to throw up. My dad pointed to a gas station right around the corner and asked her to hold on. He made the turn at the light and was ready to make the turn into the gas station when she erupted. Her vomit hit the ceiling and rained down on my mom. I laughed then, and I laughed again as I told the story to Damon. I laughed hard and without restraint. It was a wonderful release.
I don't know what is building up in me, grief, confusion, frustration? While I'm at Bikram, I am distracted, but I do not have many opportunities for a release. It felt wonderful.
As I'm typing this, the rain has started again. It's late. It looks like poor Elsa is going to have to settle for the doormats and the shower to relieve herself.
I miss Mike, but I think I miss me in the context of Mike even more. In the book I'm reading, a little bit at a time, McGilchrist speaks a lot about things existing in a context. None of us exists in a vacuum. There is something which is just me, which makes everything I do is uniquely me, but I don't exist outside of contexts. I am slightly different in each one.
The 'me' in the context of Mike is gone. I miss her very, very much. In my 45 years with this man, I never once hated myself in my role as his wife. This is remarkable, given that I was raised on a heavy diet of shame and self-hatred. I don't mean I ever thought I was perfect, merely good enough.
Besides what I was not in the context of my relationship with Mike there is what I was: loving, laughing, the frustration, the learning, the accepting of Mike, and myself in the context of this relationship. That is gone forever. I miss her.
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