Saturday, November 21, 2015

In The Garden

Some days I am surprised at the aloneness I can feel when doing something I once loved.  Today, while puttering in my new garden, I was overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness. You know the kind I mean? The kind that starts in your gut, sort of uncomfortable, and then starts to twist so tightly that it pulls on your heart until it aches and then presses on your chest until breathing becomes harder and harder and you feel the need collapse in a ball; to howl loudly. If only it wasn't so socially unacceptable, if only it didn't worry my loved ones; I'd have done it and it felt as if, once it started, it might not stop for a good long while.

Once the feeling passed and I returned to my task, it was good for me to reflect that, although the last 5 or so years had been very tough and the last year and a half fairly unbearable, that even when times were not great, my Secret Keeper and I had companionable times in the garden.  We bounced ideas off each other and we worked together to build a beautiful place to have family and friends.  We composted, vegetable gardened, nurtured old plants that we urged to hang on, built stair ways and hideouts and cottages and reading nooks. The Secret Keeper frequently purchased dying plants from nurseries and nursed them to vigorous trees and shrubs. He would start them in a box he dubbed the orphanage, where they would stay until healthy enough to put in the ground. There were lovely times of quiet and silliness and old fashioned hard work that brought us both pleasure and connectedness.

It's good to remember those days. It's good to know that aside from the four greatest gifts in my life, that the rest of that relationship hadn't been a complete waste. I already knew this but the process of preserving my heart can dull those memories.

It's NOT that I am lonely. I'm not most of the time.  I think it's more dealing with the change in how I feel doing a particular activity. It's another new norm to adjust to and "adjust" I will. 

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