A Little Adventure

The repetitious fog horn sounds in the distance. A Siamese cat surveys my invasion of his territory from the corner and swishes his tail in his own rhythm, quite contrary to the boom, boom, boom of the radios in cars passing in front of the pottery barn in which I'm am cozied up for the night.

I've gone on a bit of an adventure, to spend time with the friend who made Y's urn, to check in on my mom, and have an excursion to the Bay Area to play with Bella and make contact with my family there. I had to get out of the house in the mountains for September 27th would have been Y's 70th birthday. The way I was going alone there, the puddle would have turned into a pond, and I thought I'd do better out in the world for a change then struggling to find things to do at home.

There is no end to the list of things to do; sometimes I just don't want to do them.

So to go on this adventure, I had to get behind the wheel of the car again. I'm not sure if this phenomena was strictly my own, or if others in grief have a fear of driving. All I know is that my reaction time of moving my foot from the accelerator onto the brake had slowed down too much to be safe. I'd forget where I was going as I was driving toward town. I literally shook with anxiety. So, I had others pick up my mail, the prepared food left at the quilt shop, or do my shopping.

When I got this plan to leave home, I realized I needed to do something about my problem. I had to take small steps, so I drove to the post office and back one day. The next morning, I did a dump run and made a deposit at the bank. Then I tackled going 22 miles to Willits. I made it there and back with flying colors and only twice drifted over the center line. Thank goodness there was no one in the other lane.

Then I took myself 50 miles to Ukiah and made my two appointments, one with a counselor and one with a chiropractor. I did everything on the list, made all the required left hand turns, and got home without an incident.

It doesn't seem like much, I know. In fact, it seems silly in retrospect, but I did have a problem, and I had to solve it, all by myself. This set of tasks helped me pull myself together. Keeping to a schedule helped me keep the goal in mind. I don't want to be a recluse. I don't want to be a dependent old lady who has to live in the back room of one of her kid's homes to be able to survive. I can do this thing, called living alone, and I plan on doing it well. I just have to take it one step at a time and expand my confidence as I go.

I have a new prayer. “Thank you for who I am. Thank you for who I have been. Thank you for who I am becoming.”

The cat is on the bed now, accepting the inevitability of having to make friends with a new person for the night, and I am so new, even to myself.