OVERNIGHT, INSIGHTS COME POURING OUT FAST AND—FURIOUS—HHMMM

As reflection is not redundant when the goal is retention (of insight-driven streams of consciousness, which serve to deepen my brain’s capacity to heal its traumatized self from feeling stimulated to suffer through bouts of PTSD), I've learned to re-consider the part I’d played (or did not play) during a childhood drama that proved so dark as to transform my sunny home into the little house of horrors, which had tried to suck the well balanced mental attitude of a three year old child into a bottomless pit of emotional despair until Mother Nature saw fit to call forth my defense system to save my sanity from tumbling straight down into Alice’s rabbit hole, so, let’s take a moment to steady our nerves, straighten our thinking caps and fortify our connection to courage, because—ready or not—here comes whatever is about to pour freely out of the intuitive portion of my thought processor, right now

In Dec. of 1943—
I was born to a family whose adoration made me feel like the sun rose and set with my smile.

 In July of 1946—
My father’s father (my beloved grandpa—the only grandpa I’d ever known and loved) died, unexpectedly right on the spot where he'd gasped, clutched his chest and fallen to the ground of a massive heart attack at the age of 52, leaving every adult who’d supported my spirit’s sunny connection to emotional safety utterly shocked and devastated by grief.  Six weeks later—

In September of 1946—
My baby sister Janet was born, and for reasons that I couldn’t fathom, everyone thought she was so adorable that a little black cloud seemed to push the sunshine of their love away from me toward her, which made a good little girl feel BAD—Hmmm ...

In November of 1946—
(On my parent’s 5th wedding anniversary to be exact)
My healthy baby sister could not be awakened from her nap.

The unimaginable horror of Janet's sudden death coming close on the heels of Grandpa's demise left every adult who’d supported my spirit’s sunny connection to emotional safety utterly shocked and so devastated by grief as to have missed the fact that the undeveloped processor of a wide-eyed, dark haired, little girl was absorbing pure terror in an unprocessed state while she'd wandered around an apartment crowded with people, many of whom she did not know, all of whom were crying and wringing their hands, day after day, and the most terrifying aspect of everything that proved too traumatically complex for her undeveloped think tank to comprehend was this:  During this lengthy, deeply confounding period of time, her not-quite-three-year-old think tank could not fathom why people she'd loved had disappeared into thin air, and as she had no clue who might be next—maybe Mommy.  Maybe Daddy.  (Maybe even herself—her brain's absorption of traumatized terror grew so overwhelming as to have swallowed the self assertive portion of her intelligent voice, which got to feeling so insignificant as to have felt little reason to express her needs with clarity intact, and as her needs seemed to matter so little (when compared to the needs of others), they were repressed along with the sweet, little girl's self-assertive voice inside a tightly zipped pocket, secreted within her subconscious, leaving the people pleaser portion of her brain to walk through each next stage of her life feeling very much alone and deeply conflicted most especially when she'd anxiously, quietly, had not yet developed the inner strengths necessary to fend off predators, who’d instinctively sensed that unhealed wounds made her easy prey—and to think that this bone chilling, unprocessed feeling remained lodged between my subconscious and conscious awareness ever since early childhood until insight spoke clearly to me, today, offers my intelligence sound reason to call forth it’s positively focused power of imaginative thought to place that key insight into my intuition's open hand so as to empower my conscious awareness to identify my lifelong sense of inner conflict by unlocking the door of the escape room, thus liberating the self assertive portion of a little girl’s voice to flash forward toward adulthood with one wave of my mind's magic wand, thus offering the people pleaser reason to cough up her self assertive voice free of anxiety so as to save her spirit from feeling devoured by predators, lurking close by, licking their chops in hopes of feasting on the unhealed wounds of her heart.  (Oy!  Can today's insight driven, intuitive train of thought, which had undermined my peace of mind for more than seven decades, really be mine?)  Thank goodness, I've been inclined toward mining the dark side of my mind for insight until this key insight to unlock the escape room so as to liberate my peace of mind was clearly mine!

OMG!  Is it possible—even probable—that once my self assertive, inner strengths feel free to blend seamlessly with the people pleaser portion of me, I’ll be WHOLE, suggesting that the main root of my lifelong inner conflict has actually been revealed!

Holy smokes!  Is it possible that today’s stream of consciousness is my very own, deeply personal holy grail that will quell anxiety attacks, which had functioned to alert my intelligence to mend the split that had separated my people pleasing traits from the self assertive portion of my voice, thus severing my spirit's mindful (mind full) sense of self in half?

I mean, think about it:  My self assertive voice has been stalking my mental well being with need to heal the wounded portions of my self esteem, which had felt imperfectly unlovable since the age of three when my fear of not being good enough to warrant the love of imperfect human beings made me feel so alone as to imagine myself either super human or wounded prey to evil closing in—like Superman, but with this difference.  Superman's xray vision see chunks of kryptonite, separating him from his inner strengths, whereas my kryptonite, having been buried subconsciously, could only be felt each time anxiety spiked to signal my smarts of the fact that my assertive voice, lodged in my throat, would continue to cause me to choke until such time as it felt free to blend, like a smoothie made of healthy ingredients, with the people pleaser portion of my think tank in a manner that proves to wholesome to my mental health as to fortify my spirit to stand strong on its own in defense of my honor and guilt free innocence of having condemned myself so bad as to have sentenced my peace of mind to solitary confinement for life.   OMG—Having railroaded my undeveloped thought processor into the hot seat, at the age of three, I've been deserving of an insight driven parole hearing, forever!  Whew!

As I’ve been thrashing my way through angry dreams, night after night, while my inner strength of self assertiveness has been attempting to guide the people pleaser to stop  feeling like wounded prey, my subconscious wanderings have grown loud enough to awaken Will, who remembers my crying out in distress changing to anger, though I do not; on the other hand, I do remember vividly painted scenes from my dreams that seem to be so unrelated as to make little sense, though my therapist assures me that everything in a dream is logically connected, suggesting that once my subconscious wanderings are astutely interpreted, my brain's intelligent capacity to heal psychologically continues to strengthen.  So, the fact that those deeply complex dreams continue to invade my connection to peace of mind, night after night, makes me wonder if, perhaps, my soul's personal quest to seek out the holy grail is still a tad beyond my thought processor’s current mental grasp—geez!  While the brain is in the process from healing from trauma, life remains deeply confusing!

I have no photos to post of Janet, because my mommy's brother, thinking to help my mommy recover from a lengthy depression, had taken it upon himself to throw them out after our baby’s death.  Boy!  Was I glued to the spot when Mommy’s zombie-like, dull-eyed spirit suddenly leaped back to life so inflamed was she with the raw intensity of fury, which having been in desperate need of unleashing, aimed the explosive extent of itself directly at my uncle, scaring my spirit almost to death until Mommy’s natural reaction collapsed on her bed, releasing another heart wrenching outpouring of sobs as if her brother's behavior had seemingly depressed her mind and spirit more than ever before!  Boy!  Just as I didn't want to make my mommy too sad to get out of bed, I sure didn't want to ever cause Mommy's fury to lash out at me!  So, I’d remained glued to this spot or that spot, eyes and ears riveted upon everything the adults were saying and doing unless I was seen wandering anxiously, aimlessly from room to room, taking in every grown up reaction in sight, thus offering my brain a fast forward rendition of every level of empathetic grief while my sunny side, quaking quietly with fear, continue to darken and my anxious, unprocessed state of mental confusion continued to heighten as days became weeks and then months of relentless grief ... but I'm getting ahead of myself—

In December of 1946—
Two weeks after Janet’s funeral, I turned three.  For months in the aftermath of our baby’s terrifying disappearance, everyone in my little corner of the world—most especially my beloved mother—was seen walking around our apartment in that wooden legged, zombie-like state (and if mommy had so much as felt like leaving her bed, at all, I’d want to wipe dry the silent tears streaming freely down her sleep deprived cheeks—so achingly did I long for her arms to wrap lovingly, protectively around my three year old insecurities, like Daddy’s did, every evening when he'd come home from work— Hhmmm—whatever could I do to make my deepest unmet need come true?

Maybe if I was a really, really, really good girl, in fact the best in the world, my exemplary behavior would inspire Mommy’s sunny side to smile back at me, so I'd been as good as gold while smiling as bright as a sunbeam, but nothing I did or said inspired Mommy's smile to reappear, so one day, just like Mommy‘s eyes had dulled and her smile had disappeared (along with Janet, whose angelic presence had been carved into her headstone), my hollowed spirit caved in, dulling my eyes and drooping my shoulders for lack of energy until my sagging smile, feeling to heavy to hold up by myself, had seemingly died, too.  The doctor told my daddy to get my mommy with child, ASAP.  Daddy listened up—

In April of 1947
Mommy, being fertile, conceived.
While I scratched till I bled

In December of 1947—
I turned four, and one month later—

In January of 1948—
My parents brought my baby sister, Lauren, home from the hospital
OMG!  Lauren looked exactly like Janet!
OMG!  What if Lauren was Janet, come back from wherever she'd been!)
OMG!  Maybe if I was a really, really, really good girl, causing no frown to appear on anyone's face, ever again, maybe my grandpa would come back—or—
Maybe if I made a mistake or did anything bad or disappointed anyone, people I'd loved would begin to disappear again, and maybe, the day would dawn when I'd be left all alone—or what if everyone I'd loved stuck together but I, having been bad, had been left out in the cold looking in—you know, kind of like the sad story of The ragged Little Match Girl—who, holding the way to ignite warmth in the palm of her hand, had no clue how naturally she'd fired up love in everyone's hearts while repressing the anxious chill in her own!

OMG!  Over time, my defense system repressed the key to my inner conflict along with bouts of high anxiety so deeply inside my subconscious that my itch to get out of my skin deepened until I'd awaken at night crying for Mommy, who'd lay down on my bed in hopes of comforting me—and thus did the pleaser-smile-by-day-and-cry-for-the-loss-of-her-self-assertive-voice-by-night ...

As my real world felt way too scary and far too confusing for the brain of an imaginative, sweet, little girl of four to process, Mother Nature stepped in to save the last threads of my connection to emotional security from snapping by packing my think tank off to 'enjoy' an existential adventure that inspired my power of intuition to open the door to the Land of Denial, where, upon taking up permanent residence, my smile's sparkle re-ignited and became so contagious that people were naturally drawn toward such an agreeable, helpful little girl, who'd not consciously worried about being 'left out' of the fold in the cold, all alone—until I was eleven and our family moved from our apartment in the city into the dream house in the suburbs that my father, strong of heart and spirit, had built for his precious family, where my many layered mask of super duper self confidence (which had fooled everyone, most of all ME) forbade me from revealing this sad fact that my defense system could not deny:  Annie, who'd begun kindergarten by comforting her crying classmates (and had continued to grow toward becoming a self confident leader in the classroom as well as on the playground), experienced sound reason to feel like a social misfit several months after enrolling in my new suburban school—and thus did the happy-go-lucky, self confident mask, which had fooled everyone who had thought to know me well, begin to crack.  (Note arms ba ndaged from itching to get out of my skin in the photo above as well as in next one, below).  BTW, stories offering a detailed version of my childhood were posted, several years back, after which a mental block developed that refused to free my memory to pen any story beyond jr. high, which is why I think it best to hold on to our thinking caps and buckle our safety belts as our ride in my time machine jet propels this post from 1948,  past six decades of my life, all the way—

To November of 2014—
When Ravi was born—

And now it's December—the month of my birthday—2018
Suggesting that Ravi's innately intelligent, sponge-like think tank has just turned four
And I'm glad to say that, thus far, my grand daughter's pleasing personality and
Self assertive voice suggests that a well balanced little girl, whose age appropriate
Thought processor absorbs everything her adult role models do and say, is not
Afraid to declare that airing her needs, which ring aloud, clear as a bell, is
Every bit as significant as is true when we air ours!  And our most significant
Shared need regardless of age, is our desire to feel worthy of unconditionally love

Time and again, while playing with my bright as a sunbeam grand-daughter, my smile’s natural sparkle witnesses the intuitive powers of a four year old child’s well balanced, emotionally secure brain highlighting her vivid imagination, which naturally knows no bounds, suggesting why her positively focused thought processor actually believes that the magic of the mind exists as a matter of fact, and though that's a very good (and quite frequently, a very funny thing)‚ unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for the wounded think tanks of adults to remain stuck in a negatively focused place where their darkest imaginings are believed factual, suggesting why closed-minded attitudes, which shape up during childhood remain rooted in fantasies of one's own making as many adults transition from one stage of life to the next without ever becoming emotionally matured, 'grown ups'—and thus do childish reactions and churlish behaviors cause so much unnecessary trouble and grief throughout our defensive world—hello donald trump)

Did I mention that several weeks after Janet's tragic death, our tragedy worsened immeasurably when my mommy's mother blamed her daughter for our baby's death?

Did I mention how their impassioned fights, secreted from my father, terrified me, anew?

Did I mention that we three watched over Lauren, most especially when she was sleeping, like a trio of mother hens?

Did I mention that six months after my 4th birthday, Lauren fell into a coma, arousing my mother's greatest fear to wail out loud:  OMG!  Nooo!  Nooo! Not again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did I mention that from the highly impressionable age of 2 until I was 5, a blue eyed, dark haired child, who'd scratched her arms and legs until she'd bled (and been wrapped in bandages), had continued to repress pure terror behind her congenial smile's ever-ready-eager-to-help-and-please-anyone-with-everything attitude, while repressed fear pierced her peace of mind?

And if, between the ages of eleven and seventeen, kids had bullied a child (who'd swallowed her self assertive voice) for having become fat while an adult, who had won my love, had sexually abused me, secretly, repeatedly, well—thank goodness Mother Nature had called upon my defense system (beginning when I was three) to protect my brain's connection to sanity by blocking my conscious mind so as to disassociate completely from every deeply distressing personal experience concerning every emotional or physical assault, all of which remained memorized within the darkly terrified, deeply traumatized portion of my brain, which, going by the name of Subconscious, lies in wait for any stimulus that offers the unconscious portion of my think tank sound reason to re-ignite an unidentified, repressed negatively focused emotional reaction to filter into my conscious mind in an unprocessed state by arousing a sudden spike of anxiety that makes me feel as though a foggy, personally threatening danger is suddenly closing in, severing my processor's intelligence from clarity, because my awareness has been swept into yesteryear's subconsciously disassociated state of a terrified three or four or five year old child, suggesting why there are times when my adult connection to logic is no where to be seen.  I still can't read about or watch a movie about or listen to the news when the topic is child abuse or sexual assault ...

So, thank goodness a therapist, who does not practice EMDR therapy (which strengthens my brain's intuitive capacity to heal the traumatized portion of itself from PTSD) introduced me to one who does, and based in the knowledge that my power of intuition has guided my processor to acquire for many years, I've come to see how, during every stage of my life, the overwhelming nature of subconscious fear, lurking behind my sparkling smile's many layered wall of denial, has had a heavy hand in formulating more of my existential decisions than my conscious smarts could have ever clearly conceived on my own, so thank goodness, I've had the good fortune to benefit from the healing effects of EMDR therapy on PTSD—

Did I mention that the younger your processor is when trauma short wires a portion of your brain, the longer it takes to work at peeling the many layered onion so as to heal whatever had wounded your self esteem, which will remain stuck in what feels like a 'bad' place until you come to see that spiking anxiety signals you, repeatedly, to seek out an unidentified self defeating attitude that's still tying your think tank into tightly tensed knots—unnecessarily?
Hhmmm ...

I WONDER IF THE INSIGHT SPOTLIGHTED BELOW WILL RELAX MY ANXIOUS STATE OF MIND

Today, the spotlight of insight clarified this awareness:
Ever since the age of three my processor has repressed
A worrisome feeling of inner need to muster the self restraint to
Stave off an ocean of tears behind a defensive shield composed of
Heroic strengths, thus fortifying my spirit to bear
The overwhelming burden of personal grief all by
My lonesome so as to minister to the natural, heartbroken
Emotional reactions of my family whenever a person, whom
We love deeply, dies—and if you’d like to know what
Stimulated today's self-liberating awareness to filter
Freely from my brain’s subconscious storehouse of
Insights (concerning what really makes me tick) into
My conscious mind, overnight—so would I—

Thank goodness, the emergence of one insight inspires
The inquisitive portion of my thought processor to
Believe that with positive focus and patience intact
The power of intuitive thought will ready itself to
Reveal additional insights, all of which will prove
To be interrelated, so now that my inquisitiveness has
Set attitudes of impatience and doubt in time out
Please stay tuned to this channel until
The intuitive portion of my brain is ready to
Surprise your thought processor (and mine) with
The re-emergence of a string of insights, which is currently
In need of deeper reconsideration than ever before —
Hmmm ... my conscious awareness had no clue that
The focus of today’s intuitive train of thought was
Leading us toward my inner need to reconsider
A string of insights, which have already been posted until
The word ‘re-emergence’ popped up on my screen
Suggesting, once again, that the magic of the mind and
The power of intuition are one and the same—
Ohhmm ...

SO—HERE'S WHY MY 75th BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION FELT FREE OF INNER CONFLICT—

Once my power of insight-driven, intuitive thought shone a spotlight upon a specific (unprocessed) memory, I came to see why my birthday celebrations had always felt fraught with a confounded sense of inner conflict, beginning at the age of three, and once that sudden flash of clarity freed the conscious portion of my mind from tangling with yesteryear’s foggy feelings of doom and gloom, nothing disrupted my pleasure center from thoroughly enjoying my good fortune on the occasion of my 75th birthday when my entire being felt suffused with unconditional love emanating freely toward me from within the hearts of family and friends (whose steadfast presence buoys my spirit whenever the fickle finger of Fate challenges my inner strengths to tame sudden spikes of anxious angst, which filter through my wall of denial, from time to time, just as their presence fills my heart with joy whenever Lady Luck waves her magic wand over my head, which thankfully, has been true much more often than not).

Oh—one more thing—Knowing that my sparkle (which emanates naturally from deep within my soul whenever the party planning baton is in my hand) feels need to seek shade from the limelight whenever the lighthearted center of attention shines ever s0 brightly directly at me, Will chose to include only ‘family’ whose presence has graced our holiday table, during recent years, because otherwise, the list of invitees would have swollen to at least 200 beloved folk, whose heartfelt inclusion had lifted their glasses (both near and far) in celebration of our 50th anniversary, two years back.  You see, my heart comprehends only one kind of love, which runs so deep as to last forever and a day.  So once every last crumb of birthday cake had been devoured and Will and I had tucked ourselves in for the night with Ravi fast asleep in our bed, my husband asked if I would have included anyone else, and without so much as a moment’s hesitation, three couples (rounding out my nearest and dearest in-town sisterhood) came to mind; and while answering truthfully, I made certain to reassure my husband that limiting the list of invitees is always challenging when we’re hoping to create an intimate celebration for a loved one that feels perfectly planned—

As for now, David and I are about to pick up Ravi from pre-school after which we three plan to meet my niece and nephew for lunch, so whatever time I'd set aside to speak my mind has been spent except to say this:  Ever since arising, this morning, the intuitive portion of my busy brain has been bugging my conscious mind to ready itself to absorb yet another self deceiving perception that my defense system must have 'cocooned' in an unprocessed state, and here’s why I believe that cocoon is beginning to unravel so as to reveal a deeper truth concerning yet another deeply repressed false belief, which having been harbored, over long, requires the conscious portion of my mind to tolerate this current spike of anxiety until my inner strengths, having stabilized, feel ready to catch hold of a string of insights that are raring to fly free of the cocoon so as to clearly liberate the whole of my mind from carrying forward the heavy weight of another self conceived assumption, which has relentlessly refused to free my logical sense of innocence to shake off emotions wracked with personal guilt of—I know not what as of yet—for example, this morning, I was awakened by a life-threatening feeling of heartfelt constriction, alerting my intellect to call upon the inner strength of courage to unlock yet another door, behind which an emotionally repressed reaction during the aftermath of Janet's death is readying itself to be released (thank goodness experience has taught my intelligence to remember that whatever had once caused a confounded little girl’s undeveloped think tank to quake with guilt-ridden insecurity is no longer empowered to frighten my knowledge-laden processor half to death—so in hopes of freeing my conscious awareness of yesteryear’s spiking anxiety, I can safely and agreeably go along with today’s game of seek and ye shall find deeper truth waiting to set thy mind free of spiking anxiety (yet again).  And thus does my power of intuitive thought guide me to say:  Come out, come out 'unprocessed memory' so that another repressed misinterpretation (concerning my role in my baby sister’s death) can be clearly swept out of the dark side of my mind—and with today's string of insights acting as my power of intuition’s guiding light do we come to see why my positively focused attitude chooses to embrace a proactive role so as to un-handcuff a good little girl's self perception from yet another self-tormenting anxiety attack, based in undeserved guilt—Gosh!

How wonderful it is to note that by guiding me to pen this post, the intuitive portion of my brain is clarifying my life-long need to relieve my conscious mind of today’s foggy sense of guilt before I've even identified the crime that the terrified mind of a three year old child had unknowingly condemned herself guilty of committing during life's most crucial stage of personality development—And—

Thank goodness, my processor continues to work toward calling forth a host of inner strengths so as to buoy my spirit each time the child’s innocence, feeling haunted by yesteryear's fear of suffering severe punishment for being humanly imperfect, has need to be swept out of my mind by my hard won, emotionally rebalanced state of well being, and that's most especially true whenever I push my exhausted think tank past the point of maintaining a realistic view of my traits, suggesting that each time mental exhaustion depletes my think tank of energy, the next layer of my wall of denial experiences a meltdown, freeing the insecure little girl, imprisoned deep within the subconscious portion of my mind, to cry out anxiously for help, which was not forthcoming when every adult she'd loved had been utterly immersed in personal grief, and thus does each meltdown prove to free a good little girl to slide down that slippery slope of self condemnation until my strong sense of courage is summoned to rescue both the little girl and my adult’s exhausted processor from skating blindly toward thin ice, again!
Hhmm and Whew!

FEELING GRATEFUL FOR BEING LOVED UNCONDITIONALLY

How does feeling grateful for unconditional love differ from feeling worthy of unconditional love?

Whereas feeling ‘grateful’ suggests that I have more work to do so as to feel worthy of receiving love when my vulnerabilities are fully exposed, feeling worthy of receiving love, warts and all, indicates a well balanced sense of wholeness, which humbly accepts those times when personal vulnerabilities undermine my inner strengths until my power of intuition processes my need to consciously place subconscious attitudes of negatively focused self judgements in time out until such time as my spirit has fully re-energized so as to regain a heightened level of self esteem, which, otherwise, has a tendency to slide downhill so as to bury my smarts under yesteryear’s avalanche of emotional sludge.

And having recently experienced this downhill slide (no sight of snow in the forecast, smoothing my sled’s rocky ride into a gleeful glide), my intelligence is charged with reminding me of how readily exhaustion ensnares the conscious portion of my think tank to feel entangled within the unhealed, fear based portion of my subconscious, which releases a ghostlike presence of unidentified emotional distress that arises from out of the distant past to haunt my current sense of self worth with feelings of unworthiness, which make no sense when my intelligence considers the good natured person I’ve become, beginning at the age of three when tragedy swerved my processor’s self confident development away from the natural path of emotional security toward feeling caught up within a swirling web of self conscious insecurity that proved so confounding as to have led my conscious awareness to experience the dizzying nature of unnamed emotional duress, which has daunted my think tank’s sense of clarity, time and again, as has been true over these past several days; however, now that the main root of my foggy sense of  emotional dizziness has been clarified by way of today’s intuitive string of insights, which, upon emerging as though all on their own, served to enlighten the conscious portion of my processor as to why my anxious reaction to any celebration of my life had always felt muddied by inner conflict, I’d like to do what everyone who loves me, unconditionally, has been doing throughout the day—I’d like to wish myself a very happy and healthy 75th birthday—with many more to come!

PS
Though my spirit always feels 100% gleeful while busily creating an abundance of birthday surprises for everyone I love, I’ve never understood why anxiety attacks my spirit’s naturally relaxed sense of personal well-being whenever the spotlight’s focus singles me out on my special day—until just now—you see, over these past few days, my third birthday party has flitted in and out of a foggy portion of my mind, and once that particular memory emerged, so did the insight that my intuitive powers have been struggling to ignite so as to enlighten my conscious mind with sound reason to lighten the burdensome weight of undeserved guilt that has been deflating my spirit, unnecessarily, whenever it’s my turn to bask in the spotlight of love, sporting a megawatt smile:  The first birthday party in my honor that I remember celebrating took place two weeks after my baby sister Janet’s unexpected death, which left everyone in my extended family wracked with pain, wringing their hands in tormented shock, feeling devastated to the max, suggesting that the party, made in celebration of love for me (as seen in one of many photo albums, documenting the years of our lives) had offered my three year old processor reason to feel that my birthday celebration was an intrusion during a time of horrific grief rather than seeing myself as the worthy recipient of my beloved family’s unconditional love, and having come to see that my life sentence in purgatory was self inflicted at the tender age of three, tis high time for my intelligence to pardon that deeply confounded, self condemning, sweet little girl of a crime that no one had ever declared her guilty of committing except for me—

Hhmmm ... now that my brain’s heavy sense of fogginess is clearing the way for my spirit to lift above subconscious emotional sludge, all I have left to say for right now is
Thank god the intuitive portion of my brain guided my conscious awareness to blog—Whew!

And as David, who flew in to surprise me, last night, just left to pick up Ravi, that’s a wrap for today!

FOOD POISONING IS NO FUN-FEST!

How do I express the after-effects of food poisoning without grossing you out?
Hmmm—let's just say that I didn’t fly to the west coast on Tuesday with
Plans to spend the next three days planted in bed, except for those
Desperate moments, which saw me tossing back the covers and leaping to
My feet in hopes of racing madly toward the bathroom to relieve
My abdominal misery without need to wash the floor—repeatedly
As to whether I called the doctor—I didn’t for two sound reasons
You see,  at my bedside on my right stood an orthopedic surgeon while
On my left stood a cardiologist (who’d graduated number one in their
Medical school class more than half a century ago—where in
Heaven’s name did that half of a century go???)
At any rate, upon witnessing the fact that food poisoning distresses
Every bodily function inclusive of wracking one's brain with
A head ache that just won’t quit, the combined professional
Opinion of this pair of brainiacs offered me a banana washed
Down with as much electrolyte water as my abdominal revolution
Could tolerate before my digestive system rebelled—again and again
And that describes how my days and nights were spent until it was
Time to ready ourselves to pack up and fly home, which proved
Easy peasy based in the fact that other than lounging apparel
I’d never unpacked in the first place—however, here's what was not
Easy peasy:  Knowing that bathrooms would not be a leap away on
The day that saw us traveling from the west coast to the desert—
So—you can imagine my relief (while making my way
From point A to point B and C and so on) to find that
The fickle finger of fate had chosen to Friend me, again, and
I say that because self control won the day—Whew!
Though at this point in time, I’m still feeling literally
Washed out from head to toe, thank goodness, my digestive system
Depleted of undignified rage, is no longer launching
Colon-piercing poisoned arrows, empowered to deflate my spirit!
(And to think that I’d been so prudent as to ask our server to
Assure me that my crabby salad would rest upon a bed of
Iceberg, hold the romaine, suggestive of this fact of life:
As carefully as we may plan for the best, fate can be likened to
Russian Roulette in that misery has been known to aimlessly
Shoot pleasure right between the eyes without offering
The recipient of pain so much as a hint of what’s about to grind
One’s happy go lucky state of well being into dark clouds of dust
And once fate decides to knock out our high spirited attitude by
Delivering a heavy fisted barrage of low blows, it’s disheartening
To note that no apology will be forthcoming, any time soon, sooo
Once it came time to bid our dear friend goodbye
His immediate response to my wan smile of apology (for
Literally being a party pooper) served to lift the burdensome
Weight of self condemning contrition off of my spirit so
Naturally as to have spontaneously re-ignited my sparkle's
Pilot light, and though mental exhaustion has remained
Persistent, this week proved to be a vast improvement over
Last based in my having been re-friended by fate, suggesting
Why I've made no mad dashes to the nearest commode, and if
My brain insists upon languishing lazily rather than
Re-energizing—well, advocating for upping my attitude’s
Level of patience is of the essence whenever my think tank has
Need to refuel after fielding several days of dehydration, and
As that’s still the case, today, it’s my good fortune to note that
All I need do to offer my spirit a lighthearted lift is to
Remember to hydrate while reflecting over my friend's
Parting words: “No apologies, Annie—
We’ll take you any way we can get you”—and each time
I revisit his innermost feelings, expressed so naturally and thus
Openly, my pleasure center reminisces over the heartfelt hug
We'd shared, highlighting the lasting nature of
Our friendship more clearly than any verbal response that
My processor could have conjured up to describe how
Grateful I’d felt to find myself the fortunate recipient of
Unconditional love, and in addition to that silver lining
Here's another:  Remember those five pesky pounds, which
Over these past two years had wrapped round my hips as
Stubbornly as a koala bear hugging a tree?  Well, during my
Abdominal revolution, all five of those pounds, along with
Inflammation, were flushed away, and with today’s
String of insights popping like kernels of truth from within
The corny side of my processor, I can feel my spirit tickling
My pleasure center from the inside out, stimulating serotonin to
Curl my lips up into a smile that feels so natural as to
Entice my sparkle to come out to play, which suggests that
My spirit, fielding the positive effects of self empowerment, will
Surely (with patience intact) regain the inner strengths necessary to
Pull today's intuitive train of thought into a peaceful rest station
Where this post will be put to bed with a hearty Hi ho Silver—
Ohhmm ...

SUDDENLY SUCKER PUNCHED!

On Saturday following Thanksgiving
Ravi’s fourth (Cheetah themed) birthday party saw
Children and parents from her preschool class and
Soccer team and of course, cousins and neighbors
Enjoying a sumptuous lunch of tacos, beans and rice before
Diving into slices of my granddaughter's
(Cheetah) birthday cake, after which about
Twenty or more jolly 'jelly beans' from diverse cultures
Piled, with great delight, into the jumpy house from which
Gales of giggles could be heard as small fry collided
Happily into each other, and as you can imagine
Ravi jumped for joy upon unwrapping two giant cheetahs, which
Now stand guard on either side of her African safari bed so as to
Protect her from night monsters that might otherwise sneak up on
Her once she's been tucked safely under her cheetah comforter, each
And every night (Note headband with cheetah ears complimenting
A rainbow of bows adorning Ravi's imaginative head—I mean, seriously
Doth Ravi be the first Cheetah Princess thee hath ever seen?

  

Sunday, being the fourth day of our family fun-fest, saw me
Swallowed up by waves of exhaustion, based more in swimming
Through emotional swells than due to physical exertion, and as
The same depleted level of energy proved true of me on Monday (when
David had flown safely back to the coast) I nose dived into
My pillow, content to do nothing more than—crash in hopes that
My brain, being plugged into rest and relaxation, would be up and
Running, again, sooner than later, for this reason:

Though generally, during the aftermath of our family fun-fests
Will and I look forward to quiet days filled with
Little more than reflective solitude, Monday evening saw us
Packing to fly to Carlsbad, CA on Tuesday so as to enjoy
Quality time with a life long friend, who’d lost his wife—another
Beloved friend of ours—to a virulent brain tumor, ten years ago
And after we’d landed, followed by renting a car, Will and I
Made sound use of Google Maps to guide us toward our friend’s
Timeshare (which proved similar to our own) where, upon
Our arrival, we three greeted each other warmly, and as
We'd been welcomed into this two bedroom, two bath (thank God!)
Vacation home, several times over these past fifteen years, we felt
Right at home kicking off our shoes while relaxing with
A glass of wine and slices of pungent cheese tamed with
Sweet dollops of fig preserves before the four of us—four
Suggesting that five years back our dear friend had had
The good fortune to make the acquaintance of
A cheerful companion, who won his affection as well as
Ours—and as such, we four have sought out each other’s
Company several times, over recent years, and thus did
We enjoy our first dinner, together, by dining out while
Planning ‘this and that’, which would have been fun to
Experience, during the extent of our stay—had all gone well—
However, once Will and I had retired to our room, after wishing
Our friends sweet dreams, my stomach soured quite
Unexpectedly, followed, immediately, by fate sucker punching me so
Hard that I’d not a clue as to what in tarnation was burning
Straight through me as if a bolt of lightening had struck, knocking
My sunny sense of well being under a little black cloud followed by
Fate having had the gall to dump a ton of bricks onto
My aching head, and over the next several days and nights, as
Fate continued to rain severe abdominal distress on my parade
The lack-luster smile that I'd felt able to muster (on those few occasions
When I'd ventured out of our room), had flagged at half mast—OMG!
Smiling with feeling proves quite a feat when one can barely
Lift one's aching head off the bed!  I kid you not!😯

MY PLAN FOR FAMILY FUNFESTS AS THE FUTURE UNFOLDS

While enjoying time spent with expanding family
I plan to take mental notes of emotional jumping beans, which
Though repressed or suppressed while we’re together
Will surely clamor for my time and attention once
My conscious awareness is no longer devoted to
Playing with this one or listening to that one while
The kitchen timer is ding-ding-dinging, signaling
Me that it’s time to take this out of the oven or
Place that into the oven while reminding myself to
Check to make certain that marshmallows atop
Sweet potato soufflé are not charing, before
Spinning round to turn down the burner under
The gravy while hearing Ravi say—
I want Gramma to pour my chocolate milk (because
After all, she’s accustomed to my undivided
Adoration during our play dates), and thus, upon
Reflection in the afterglow of several delicious days of
Non-stop togetherness, hindsight suggests why
My brain still feels like a bouncy house overloaded with
Bunches of jumping beans, though, truthfully, I’d reveled in
Partying with my precious family, day after day, in my home as
Has always been my pleasure with one change that
I’ve not made by choice—you see, during my prime
I’d felt exhaustion overwhelm me by Sunday; however
My depleted energy level would bounce back, over night, in time to
Awaken on Monday morning feeling spiritually replenished so
As to rouse the troops with a cheerful smile that had felt
Naturally refreshed by the awareness that our family fun-fest had
Been thoroughly enjoyed by one and all, and with those thoughts
Buoying my spirit, I'd call out that breakfast was ready followed by
Driving carpool to school after which I’d steer my nine passenger
Burgandy Buick Estate Wagon straight toward
The college, rarin’ to inspire a classroom filled with parents to
Share their success stories concerning Parent-Child Interaction or
Evolving Family Roles so as to encourage one another to continue to
Strive toward creating changes for the better in their homes; however
The whole of that scenario had taken place before
Our family of five had continued to expand to include thirteen
Highly diverse personalities of all ages while my advancement toward
Senior citizen status had been stealthily establishing itself, and
Though the realistic side of my brain has not shied away from
Openly admitting that during recent years my capacity for preparing
Holiday feasts while sailing through four-day family love-fests proves
Less smooth, more choppy for sound reason, the happily engaged
Side of my brain continues to sport the skipper’s hat (so as to keep
Family fun-fests shipshape), and as this hat has been
A good fit ever since Will and I chose to move from
The Midwest to the southwestern desert, 44 years back, and
As beloved family traditions, like habits, are hard to change
The well developed pleasure center of my brain resists removing
My ship shaping chapeau though, over recent years, it’s been feeling
Really snug, most especially when all of us are partying in
The jumpy house simultaneously (Well, almost all of us, because
This year, Tony and Ray were on the coast, celebrating with their
Dad).  So, since it’s become apparent that my captain’s hat seems
Determined to stay snugly in place on my head, here’s
The plan that the intuitive portion of my exhausted think tank
Conjured up, just now—in honor of the fact that, over
These many years, this particular hat on this specific head has
Served all of us, very well—I’ll not rip it off and toss it to
The winds, but instead, I’ll plant a tender seedling inside
The fertile, conscious portion of my brain, which
My intuitive powers will sprinkle with sunshine, love and
Lightly scattered showers of logic offering today’s
Insight-driven, reflective train of thought the gifts of time
And patience to grow ever so naturally toward such
Strength of purpose as to encourage repressed angst
Based in whatever is beyond my control to change) to make
Its transformative way through the frayed fabric of
The captain’s hat in similar fashion to the way that
Once upon a time, an accomplished author, who’d
Penned a classic story, titled A Tree Grows In Brooklyn
Offered posterity a positively focused page turner about
A seedling, which had ever so slowly but self assuredly
(And thus miraculously) emerged through a tiny crack in
The pavement so determined was it to grow to be
A mighty tree that has served as a symbol of the human spirit's
Inner strength, which proves capable of overcoming
Adversity, time and again, and though I have no clue as to what
This seedling, which my intuitive imagination has consciously
And determinedly planted inside my think tank, will grow to
Become, over time, I have no doubt that this most recent
Personal growth spurt will inspire my ready smile to replace
Repressed angst (concerning age-related exhaustion) as
My spirit seeks to gain the natural capacity to mindfully (and
Thus gracefully) pass the captain’s hat to the younger
Generation, which, being well prepped, will readily accept
The baton of skillful leadership, freeing their role model to
Embrace a newly enhanced sense of inner peace, based in
Whatever is sure to develop as my attitude continues to
Strive toward making changes for the better, which
Though not yet obvious to me, are bound to grow apparent as
My role in our family dynamics evolves away from conducting
Our harmonic symphony toward passing the baton, wrapped
In traditional family values, so graciously as to
Relax and enjoy the music, which, having been absorbed by
The orchestra, shall most assuredly continue to play, on and on—
Ohhmm ...
Oh!  One more thing—
Did I think to mention that a portion of my extended
Exhaustion proved to be the result of food poisoning?