But if I write about that I’m going to need to rename my Substack and everything. No. No I am not. Not this time! Things, life, may have changed but I am still at the wild edges.
Two years of holding up my dad’s life, in all the ways, broke me. I’m exhausted, sad, unhealthy, overweight (please can we respect each other’s knowledge of and care for our own bodies before choosing to share opinions on that word), unfit, in pain and just completely burnt out. His passing; the forced re-examination of our difficult relationship; the house full of 80ish years of belongings that need clearing, and the emergence of someone who may or may not want to contest his will… Just let me lie down under a hedge and sleep until May.
See? Always with the hedges. The wild edges.
Underneath all this is the fast-approaching 60th birthday next spring. The closing of my second Saturn Return has me facing all sorts of demons whilst simultaneously looking forward to a new era.
The thing is, as much as I don’t want to tempt fate by talking about it before it’s a done deal, my dad left his four children a quarter of everything he owned. It’s not a vast amount but when you have no savings and no property, it is life-changing. There may well be enough for me to buy us a home outright if we’re prepared to move. Move a very long way. In theory, we’re good with that. So…change.
Can I face any of that prospect with energy and joy while I’m broken? No.
Do I want to spend this third stage of life increasingly sick, medicated, limited and tired? No.
Do I have a choice? Oh yes.
Everything else that was ever circling in my head, my energy field, my journals or my conversations must be at best put on hold. The page is bare.
My job now is to look after myself as if I were a wounded animal because I am a wounded animal. I know there are people out there - some of them friends - who have gone/are going through far worse and seemingly managing better but, with the utmost love and respect, this is not about them. All versions of stress, grief and ill health are valid and also I’m talking about only mine. Decades of putting my own feelings and needs at the bottom of a massive pile are over. Sitting in a heap while your vision goes black round the edges, you’re trying to decide which way to vomit, and wait, you’re not breathing just sobbing and, “Is this how I die? In an ASDA CAR PARK????”? That will finally make you prioritise differently.
Here are my words now:
Slow, gentle, loving, tender, protective, nurturing, cyclic, supportive, compassionate, indulgent and did I mention gentle?
This is how I look after myself now. I will tend myself and make space for myself so that I can be fully present for the next part of my life whatever that is. And because I feel and hear and read that there are so many of us feeling at breaking point for whatever reasons, I want to write it down, speak it, show it, share it, in case any of it’s useful. Personal experience, not instruction or advice, but it may be useful.
When it comes to the mechanics of the body and exercise, I’m qualified. When it comes to energy work, I’m qualified. When it comes to some plant medicines, I’m qualified. When it comes to ‘mindfulness’, I’m qualified. It turns out that all this time I was collecting what I’d need.
(Incidentally, I have been checked over by my doctor and he says I’m young [bless him] but suffering from long term, intense stress that isn’t over, and I have a knackered back from literally carrying a six foot man. Trust me when I say that anything I do will be soooooo pre-beginner level and careful that it will barely be visible.)
Some years ago I had a doe tattooed on my forearm. When I’ve picked an animal guide for a year, it’s often been a deer. We see them here almost daily - usually at dawn or dusk - living as our neighbours. Their symbology speaks to me and contains many of the words up there in my list. So while “wild” may conjure up lions and tigers and bears (oh my), I am evoking Deer energy for the foreseeable future.
We’ll move slowly.
Image credit: Gaith Shalan
A poem that's helped me.... “Beannacht / Blessing...
On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.”
― John O'Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom
I don’t feel like I should say anything... just that I hear you. There’s a new beginning just on the other side of this.