Yesterday I woke up to a rumbling stomach. Actually, rumbling isn’t the word, it was more like a grinding, pinging, can’t-find-third-gear feeling. The next three hours were like going through a colonoscopy prep, minus having to drink gallons of a lemon-lime concoction.

No headache, no fever, just losing my guts.

Once I could wander around the house without being four feet from the bathroom, I started cleaning out the icebox. Maybe the hummus I had at 8:30 the night before was off. (What was I thinking? Oreos at night are the way to go. Carrots and hummus? Who do I think I am?)

The leftover butternut squash from last week was NOT going to turn into soup. The black bananas were NOT going to become bread. The red salad dressing, bought on the spur of the moment, was NOT going to remind me of my childhood.

That purge led me to the pantry. Protein powder with a “best by” date of 2012? Out. Tapioca from 2008? Out. Pickled walnuts? You don’t even want to know how old that jar was.

After the flurry of pretend housekeeping, I took a walk down to the labyrinth where GA and now, 18-year-old Spooky, are buried. They are six feet apart. Peter set it up so the lawnmower can still do it’s job, however it’s a fitting placement for the cairns.

It took 7 years for Spooky to leave her studio apartment in my office and join GA and me on the bedroom floor for the nightly ritual of ending the day. I sat in between them with arms outstretched in order to reach and pat them both. Now they are enjoying each other’s company in the field, socially, physically, and comfortably distant.

I don’t think it was the spoiled tahini as much as the grief churning inside me, that got my engine sputtering and back firing. When we hold feelings in, try to keep control or suck it up, we end up flooding the engine. Mentally and philosophically, I know this. I also know that we need to allow ourselves some time to feel discomfort.

My friend Jo sent me this this morning.

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” Khalil Gibran

Sorrow, weeping, and discomfort remind us to think further …deeper. What we had is no longer and that’s sad, however, rather than bemoaning the loss it helps to appreciate the past with delight and appreciation.

Oreos help too.

Namaste- remembering days of animals at play.

6 thoughts on “TMI”

  1. Love this Alexandra. And love you too. I’m so sorry for your recent losses, one on top of the other. No fun. And I agree wholeheartedly, the body knows the score. It is good you were able to purge your grief physically. The emotional will take more time. Sending love and big hugs!

    Liked by 2 people

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