december

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I’m realizing this morning that I’ve not had this blog a year, meaning I’ve not faced December nor written about it in a very long time.  Years I’m sure.

I had a very weird night with virtually no sleep  and am trying to nap but the blog keeps calling to me so got up to write a bit before heading out with my family to see Evita.  Hopefully I can get a wee nap in before.

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I’m aware I’ve been unusually shaky and sensitive and exhausted now for days.  My Dr. recently told me my blood work still showed I’m in a state of “Adrenal exhaustion” and gave me something for it.  But damn if those little glands on top of my kidneys aren’t actually throbbing this week.  Like I’m sure all of you reading out there, I have so many things to do and less time and energy to accomplish it all.

This week I remembered what this Numerologist told me years ago about the month of December.  That it’s really a month, being the last one in the year, to go more internal and be more reflective on the prior year and to gather energy before leaping in to January.  But we all do exactly the opposite.  We are the most active and social in December than any other month.  And we get sick.  By January, we’re all battling something.  It makes sense.

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I’m not well.  I can feel it.  I had a day off this week and so many fun and busy work things I needed and wanted to do and I spent most of the day in bed.  I just didn’t have energy to even go up my stairs without being winded.  I could barely get the most basic of tasks done but I did manage to decorate my house and pack up my car with tons of remaining decorations to take to Sedona where we will be celebrating Christmas and New Year’s.

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This December is a hard one for me.  It may be that I have my family so close now and that closeness also brings it’s unavoidable voids.  I can guess a million reasons why I’m struggling this year but of course that’s all they are–guesses.  This circuitous grief path is mysterious and daunting and at times hauntingly beautiful.  And this is, in my opinion, the very hardest thing anyone in this human existence ever endures–losing someone you love and navigating the rest of your life without them.  There is just no greater pain.  I’m convinced of it.  I’ve lived an entire life of this from the age of 5.

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Grieving is a strange bird.  One thing I know for sure is it’s not something that occurs in stages.  Like you graduate from one and go to the next.  It raises it’s head when you least expect it and can lighten and lift also unexpectedly as if by some unseen hand.

Cindy was killed on December 23, 1988.  It’s been twenty five years this Christmas. Her body was found in the desert by a young boy out four wheeling with his father on Christmas Eve.  That little boy came to court a year later and said “I thought it was a deer”.  “It” meaning her body.

I’ll never forget his words and my tears that sprung as he said them from that witness stand.

And I’m sure he, now in his 30’s at least, will never forget that Christmas Eve.

I wonder if he ever says a silent prayer Cindy’s direction on December 24th.  I wonder if he talks about it.  I wonder if he and his Dad do–the dad who stepped in so carefully to see if she had a pulse and walked backward out in his own footprints preserving the crime scene.

I wonder if either of them will ever contact me or my family.

I wonder if we will talk about Cindy at Christmas this year.  Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t.

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I’m shaking this morning as I write this.  Too little sleep, too much recent trauma, too much of too many things.  Thanksgiving was good and rough–John had a glitch , a serious glitch actually, occur with his meds and decompensated quickly.  Luckily we (meaning me) caught it and he’s much better now.  The thought of heading in to Christmas with him off the rails or worse yet, hospitalized,  is, well not something I ever wanted to think about, but did all last weekend.

I’m exhausted.

I had something I’d been planning for some time for this morning implode on me last night and get canceled.  I’m thinking this is some sort of sign that I need less planning and less doing and more rest.

So that’s what I’m going to do.

Right now.

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I hope you are finding places of rest as well out there.

Thanks for listening.  I’ll have more to say soon, I promise.

But for now, I’m hibernating awhile.

23 thoughts on “december

  1. lovelaw

    Gentle (((hug))). Life is so unfair, when someone who touches others’ hearts so profoundly, hurts so deeply in her own. Thoughts and prayers of healing and positivity.

  2. Oh Katie, I feel the exhaustion with you, the unexplainable kind that seeps into one’s bones and heart and mind. The hardest thing I have to learn is to let go of some the “doing” and slow down to my internal pace for a bit. I have thought and worried about you a bit lately, so it is good to see a blog post again. Very sorry John had a glitch along the way.

    Is the first pic from your home? It is beautiful! And the last one — you and Cindy? That soft and tender touch that only an innocent child can share just melts me with a tender heart-smile. Your blog and photos with such depths to them have been the most precious and blessed gifts, dear friend. Thank you beyond words.

    When I was a pre-teen we lost a favorite cousin to leukemia on Christmas Eve. I cried and cried alone then, as the adults seemed to have their own sadness and arrangements to tend to. Fifty-plus years later, and I don’t recall ever hearing mention of him by anyone, but I remember him even more intensely every year during the holiday season. I hope he knows how much I loved and admired him, and still miss him. Holidays can be bittersweet that way.

    Sincerely hoping your tiredness passes and you have a blessed and loving Christmas in Sedona. Take good care of yourself, sweet one. Sending loving thoughts your way.

    • Thank you for this precious sharing my dear Spellbound. I’ve actually been going through a fire of transformation that i wasn’t even aware of until things started to break open today. I’m breathing much more deeply and feeling much more connected to myself and my family which is where it’s at for me these days. John is much better this weekend. We had a great day today with my Dad. Things are definitely looking up but I’m still on the rest. I love all your sharings, I hope you know that. xoxo

  3. Shelley

    So sorry you have so much weighing you down. December is always a sad month for me. My birthday is this month–so I’m more aware that another year of life has flown by and the end of the year is approaching – these 2 things & shorter, colder days, for me, are sad & they emphasize the passing of time. Remembering loved ones no longer with us is especially painful at holiday time. REST and take care of yourself. It’s cold and drizzly here in Calif. so I’m making soup, having tea and reading by the fire today. All good wishes & hugs to you.
    xo
    Shell

  4. Zuri

    When one is on total overload, even the simplest of things can be too much. People write so much about joy and cheer at the holidays and it can be anything but. Anniversaries of the death of a loved one are hard in general, regardless of how much time has passed. Instead of looking forward to Christmas, you must dread it as it is a constant reminder of loss. Yet you choose to decorate, celebrate with family and friends, which speaks to the incredible strength you possess. I am sorry that John had this glitch you speak of and I am so glad you caught it and rectified it. As for the implosion and last minute canceling of your event, that was just another stressor and disappointment you didn’t need. I am so sorry you are going through all this. Gather those who you care about closer and leave the others behind. They are not worthy of your time or energy. Thinking of you…

  5. Kim

    Yes, holidays can be rough..so sorry your planned event imploded..I hate when that happens..much love sent your way…My BFF died on Dec. 23… Three years ago..my heart feels a dread..though I know he would not like that as he was a jolly old soul…I am trying but like you said…it raises it’s ugly head unexpectedly…be gentle with yourself….hot toddies and sleep……..peace to you and your family.. ❤

  6. NavyChief

    KCL-I am wondering if you agree to do things quickly or “chew” on them before answering? I got overloaded and found this was the key. Now I say,”It’s possible, and I’ll let you know soonest if I’m available.” Then, I can quietly evaluate time, energy, worth. Oh, and cancer (10+ years) drained me forever. Just my well wishing 2 cents. PS-the funniest thing you’ve said on air was seeing Juan stand next to a seated Dr Janeen and not have to look down. I see you smiling :>). Be well to yourself.

      • NavyChief

        Hi person I could see as a friend, we’ve never “spoken” to each other; didn’t want to crowd you during JA trial. I am UCAKID on WS. Posted more on MM trial but listen to pods daily at work. My mom died of undiag cardiomyopathy at 34 (I was 4). While not violent, was just as sudden. I feel I relate to your experiences/feelings. Am here for you with East Coast earliness if you need.

      • Oh NC. I’m glad to hear from you and thank you for stopping by and sharing. I’d like to be your friend too. 🙂 MM trial? I’m brain dead…who is that? I’m glad you’re out there relating…that’s the whole point of this writing. Earliness, what a great word. 🙂

  7. NavyChief

    Friend! MM=Martin MacNeill. I’m glad you post publically so you hear from people who only relate and don’t want anything else. It is therapeutic, I’m sure. I have 6 sibs, built in group therapy! But even though half French, we don’t have ALV as our therapist!

  8. Cyndi Wells Platfoot

    Been thinking and praying for you because you were unusually quiet figured something was up. Take care, rest well! {HUGS}

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