The STUFF Sisters - Mental Health

Having Been Here Before

As he told his new oncologist, who smiled, “I already have an incurable lymphoma, what’s one more?” Humor. It’s what Simmonses do. In times of happy and times of sad. We laugh.

I sat there idling in the fast food line, knowing I had felt this way before. I jetted over the guilt of ordering – and, in time, eating – this comfort food with my sister from the burger joint that has been here since our childhoods. Child’s play on the list of emotions I was trying to wrestle.

Strangely, I was feeling that things were settled for just a moment. I dug deeply, and, when I landed on where I had experienced this feeling before, I smiled. Continue reading “Having Been Here Before”

Sanctuary

I feel an overwhelming and powerful inner peace when I am where the ocean meets the land. It is my place of worship. It is my church. It is where Mother Nature is the most accessible to me.

Last week I found myself on a beach in February. A rare occasion for me in the dead of winter. I was there because my father has cancer and there is a new challenge to face. I traveled to be with him when he met with yet another cancer specialist. Something that we have done together as a family many, many times before and in many cities.

I didn’t bring a swimsuit or any of my beach gear. I didn’t plan to be on the beach more than a handful of minutes. I told myself that one long walk was all I needed.

When the time was right, I took my walk and headed “up island” (as it is called by the islanders). I kept my eyes on the water as I walked. I didn’t look around. I just listened and watched the waves. I wanted no distractions.

On my return “down island”, I again kept my head turned to the ocean. I found a spot at the water’s edge and kneeled down. I said what I needed to say. I did my best to lay down my fear, pain, and sadness. Mother Nature and the waves listened.

I continued my walk, slowing heading back to the house. Again, eyes on the water.

The tide came in stronger unexpectedly and I ran onto dry ground. As I did, I turned to look at the low slung dunes. The most beautiful sight was right before my eyes. A crude collection of broken shells hung from barren branches. I had walked past it on my journey North. I must not have been ready to feel it or see it when I began my walk. Only on my return did I discover this special spot.

I felt like I had entered a sanctuary. It was mystical and magical. Built by many, for anyone to share. I just explored it without touching anything. I looked into the branches from all angles. I listened to the sound of the waves and how the wind made some of the shells clatter. I sat down and looked up into the branches. I found a spot where I could see both the hanging shells and the water. I sat still and just took deep healing breaths. Before I stood, I thanked Mother Nature for answering my prayers so quickly.

I walked back to my family.

Casey

Note: Only as I started to see the path that leads off the beach did I remember I had my phone hidden with my shoes near the base of a tree. I grabbed it and ran back to take the photos you see in my post. I was thankful I didn’t have it when I came upon it the first time. I had picked up a few broken shells on my walk, I added them to the branches.

I did sneak back out for a sunset the next evening and one last visit to my special place.

Words & Boxes

I have been thinking often about writing and writing often about thinking.

I haven’t written a blog post in over a year. I stopped posting blogs because when I drafted something I felt uncomfortable. That is not to say I haven’t been posting or offered a public stream of content. I have been hanging out on the social media channels instead. And most of those posts have been on the store’s pages and feeds, not my own. My personal posting has been meager by comparison.

I want my posts to be authentic. And, all my drafts felt phony.

Continue reading “Words & Boxes”

I Miss Snow

I do. I miss snow. Writing those three words, I can only imagine what the polar bears would write if they had a blog.

There. I said it. I miss snow. In addition, I have missed the sun for many days in a row this past week. But that’s another subject and slotted for another session.

In pinpointing what I miss most about snow, I landed on one constant: the quiet beauty it brings. The snow muffles the sounds of my neighborhood, and I am unable to hear cars moving slowly at the bottom of my hill. A favorite. When I walk my dog, the sounds that are closest to my ears – and which are usually drowned out by the environment – become sweet retreats for my mind.The brush of my arms against my quilted coat and the dog’s paws lifting off the pavement are two of my favorites.

In addition, the Midwest is not at its loveliest in winter. But our sloping hills, stark trees, and structured landscapes become magical with even the slightest snowfall. Quiet beauty. This region needs snow to brighten the brown that overtakes the ground. Not being a scientist, I can only imagine this region needs the snow for a myriad of reasons, water tables and probably makes for nature first pest control for rat,mice and other vermin much less chemicals needed, probably, I don’t know but those are my two guesses.

I do. I miss snow. Writing those three words, I can only imagine what the polar bears would write if they had a blog….

p.s. This photo is of my niece almost three years ago. Time has flown, but she clearly embraces in this photo how I feel about snow.

One Of The Days I Went Crazy

Many were the days when I pushed my young man too far and crammed him into the car seat one too many times. To appease him and soothe his crankiness, I played Disney music. He loved it with his every fiber.

I can remember it well:The day I couldn’t take one more minute in my minivan with Disney songs on the CD player. Being the driver did not mean I chose the music every time. Many were the days when I pushed my young man too far and crammed him into the car seat one too many times. To appease him and soothe his crankiness, I played Disney music. He loved it with his every fiber.

When we purchased the CDs, my husband and I chose well, knowing we would be surrounded by these pieces for a while. They were recorded well and sung by professionals. Sure, Mickey performed some songs, as did Donald Duck. OK. But great orchestrations and orchestras moved it along, All fine and good.

Until your beautiful child wants to hear “There’s A Hole In My Bucket” performed by Goofy for the ten-thousandth time in a row in one day. I was beginning to hate Goofy.

Continue reading “One Of The Days I Went Crazy”

She Was Seventy Feet Tall

I looked up that day into the far distant branches of the tree above him and noticed I could see more of the sky than ever. The leaves seemed smaller, and the branches less full.

“I…can’t…talk…about…this…right…now.” My words were choppy as I tried to catch my breath with my voice wobbling into sobs.

In my marriage, we divide and conquer. We share a great deal of the responsibilities of owning a home that’s over a hundred year old. In fairness, my husband takes on more of the burden in the fourth quarter, my busiest. I, however, rule the other nine months.

Coordination of the trimming of our three large, old trees fell to him. He called the arborists, set the appointments, kept the appointments, and booked the work.

Continue reading “She Was Seventy Feet Tall”

Casey Faces Her Election Frustration

I am buying myself a new piece of jewelry today. I know many of you know I am being completely serious. But, for people who don’t know me as well, let me explain.

Continue reading “Casey Faces Her Election Frustration”

Finding My Way

I haven’t posted to our blog for a long time. If you follow our blog you may have noticed or maybe, if I am lucky, you didn’t. I left you in very good hands. My sister, Sloane, has been keeping our blog well tended with her lovely writing and unique point of view.

I have been overwhelmed. I don’t feel pressured to have an excuse. I am just ready to write it down and share it. Life has been challenging for me. I am no different than most of the people I know. Everyone is busy living fast and furious it seems. And, sometimes circumstances can knock you on your ass for awhile. That is what happened to me.

When I have challenges that I cannot change, or I am not in the position to change, I rage against my impotence. I am conditioned to my high energy “get it done” personality. So when it is ineffective in a situation I burn ruts in the ground just trying to move something, anything, forward.

I could not change the hurdles that were placed before me this past year. I flailed about grabbing for something to change. My frustrations finally landed on my home. As time marched on I became laser focused on everything wrong with my property. I fed my pain by blaming myself for my inability to find the time and energy to get any projects done. Top of my list was my yard and gardens.

I would drive up my drive and say to myself, “See those weeds and those overgrown vines, do you see them? You are right, your life is awful. Why can’t you get your shit together? Look at your yard. It’s a mess.” You see, that is what I do when I feel helpless, I beat myself up.

I felt so overwhelmed. I began fantasizing about selling my home and moving into a small apartment with no yard, where everything was brand new and I lived on the 130th floor where nobody could find me. I appetite to run away from home was insatiable.

I was advised to sit still and let time help me get to the other side. I wanted to scream. Sit still? Screw that! There are things that must be done. Can you not see the weeds in my yard? I am being covered by weeds Why can’t you see the weeds? Doesn’t anyone see the weeds? I have to pull the weeds.

It was grim.

A few weeks ago, I took this photo with my phone one morning when I was impatiently waiting for my daughter to get out the front door.

This beautiful vignette of my courtyard. I started pulling the image up on my phone to view it randomly. I found it captivating. I wanted to know why I couldn’t avoid sneaking a peek at it a couple times a day. It soothed me.

There was that vine that had slowly and patiently, over the entire summer, crawled it’s way from behind a big planter squeezed against my fence, climbed over two plants, around a metal sculpture and was reaching down to the ground to find it’s footing. It is beautiful.

It began to validate me. I realized I was like that vine. I just need to give myself time to find my way.

I am now pulling a handful of the weeds each day. I am going slowly.

Meditation

I have tried traditional meditation on and off. It’s neither that I don’t like the “voice” on the apps I’ve chosen nor that I can’t find my quiet. It’s that I don’t want to be led.

In the past week, mediation has come up three times in casual conversation. Among women my age, with a new male friend much younger than me, with a customer at STUFF. We’ve consumed many minutes discussing apps with good “voices”, best time of day, and length of dedicated time. All of this and much more.

I have tried traditional meditation on and off. It’s neither that I don’t like the “voice” on the apps I’ve chosen nor that I can’t find my quiet. It’s that I don’t want to be led. So, I improvise and sit in the deep quiet of the room I dress in – which is also my home office – most mornings and listen. Eyes closed, I have been known to work down a list of people I keep taped to the inside of my eyelids. This list changes and is filled with people that I want to benefit from focused energy.

But my favorite mediation comes in the summer. In water where I can barely touch bottom, I lie on my back and float in deep pools of silence. And, again, I listen.

My heart speaks to me, and stress evaporates.

p.s. Three or four summers ago, I became transfixed with the form of my son under water. I possibly took several hundred photos of him in the ocean and in the Fairway Pool. The quote is mine, from a time in my life that was more challenging than others. A long time ago, water healed and protected me. It still does. A friend put the two pieces together, seen above, as a gift to me.

Enthusiasm

I get teased a lot for my passion, my enthusiasm, and my boundless energy. I get it. I am a force. I recognize that about myself. Many years ago I stopped trying to quiet my personality

I get teased a lot for my passion, my enthusiasm, and my boundless energy. I get it. I am a force. I recognize that about myself. Many years ago I stopped trying to quiet my personality or to dampen my outgoing nature. It wasn’t easy. I had been shamed by many. I was told I needed to change.

I don’t know if, when I was little, people were trying to change me because I was a girl, but I remember thinking why don’t they ever tell the boys to be quiet?

As an adult woman, I still feel that it is expected, at times, for me to “wait my turn”, to sit still and be quiet, or to be demure.

When I first started therapy 11 years ago, I was in crisis. I was facing seemingly insurmountable challenges. Turns out I was going to be just fine.

I stayed in therapy, and I still value it to this day. I have spent many sessions on self acceptance. Countless journal entries, talks, and reading and writing exercises learning about myself. It is hard when you have been teased and criticized about your core nature and personality.

I know we all do it to each other more often than we realize. I hope I seldom unwittingly hurt someone because of my jokes. I know I have in the past, and for those times I am deeply sorry. And, when I make the mistake in the future, I will apologize and ask for forgiveness.

At 47 years old, I am ready to stop apologizing and to start celebrating. My enthusiasm comes from a deep passion for love, acceptance, creativity and justice. It was how I was built. I am a force. I am proud. I am Casey.