Frosty

I want to thank all of you who have expressed support for me and my family during this ordeal. My post of last Tuesday triggered a number of entries on the guest book, emails, and phone calls, all of which were deeply appreciated.

This is to let you know that I am still here, in better shape mentally and emotionally than when I last wrote, and trying to stay warm. Perhaps it is the cold that has moved into our neighborhood that has forced the blues away? After all, we are hard-wired for survival on a very basic level and when the thermometer needles start rotating counterclockwise, our baser instincts take over and push all of those namby pamby, new age, touchy feely thoughts about happiness, sadness, emptiness, self pity, right out the window. When it’s cold enough for the snow to make that little squeaky sound under your soles as you walk out for the morning paper and the sun has another couple of hours to clear the treetops and cast its weak, thin, winter rays on your little bean, you know that you had better concentrate on keeping the fires lit and stoked.

So, that’s where we are now – thinking about the “fires.” Of course, this is all metaphorical clap-trap. The “fire” goes on and off by itself as long as the thermostat talks to the boiler and the natural gas pipeline isn’t blown up by terrorists infiltrating through the leaky border to the north. The boiler heats the water. The water heats the floors, and I sit at the kitchen table in my stocking feet with warm toes doing nice mental sighs and trying to remember what the big fuss was all about. Three feet away, through a half an inch of thermo-pane glass, frosty is painting the windows and trying to get in.

So, a few days ago, I was in the pit, and today I’m not (or at least right now). This is one of the harder parts of this journey – the up and down, in and out, nature of emotional healing. It isn’t something that you figure out, fix, and then go on with your life. It’s confusing and topsy-turvy. One day you’re good, the next you’re morose. Or even more likely, making the switch in a matter of seconds many times a day.

If it were not for all of you out there, rooting for us, this would be much different. As it is, when I feel down, I do my best to remind myself that number one, it will pass, and number two, there are friends out there who care, and will do things to help if I just let them know. It does make a difference.