painting my nails red…

In an effort at finding a way to respond to ‘how are you today?’ that is shorter than one of Shakespeare’s soliloquoys, I have been trying to give myself marks out of 10 for how I feel each day..

My worst day was a 0.5.. I really hope I don’t have many of those since I am just not one of those women who can cry elegantly, and despair does not suit me… I end up looking like the creepy creature from the red and puffy swamp. My average day comes in at somewhere between 4 and 6 and I figure that is ok for now.

Yesterday was a pretty good day, maybe even a 7. Again I stretched myself a little. I dragged the dog out on a two and a half hour jaunt across the hill tops, bathed in the views, got a little lost in the bracken. Tripped, fell but picked myself up again, which was just as well since this little dog is no Lassie… she took the opportunity of my fall to take a nap!

Grief still managed to find me without a map. I caught myself contemplating calling dad’s mobile phone in the hope of hearing his voice on the answer phone, and the thought fell on me like a kick in the chest. But, being somewhere out on my own meant there was no one but me to grieve with my grief. The hills don’t get uncomfortable when I’m sad, the sky is entirely unperturbed if I howl a little and no bog has ever gurgled ‘it’s all alright’ or ‘you just need to be strong’. I might just have freaked out a sheep or two but that I can live with on my conscience!

There is something very freeing about being able to let the feelings run their course, find my way back to ok again and laugh a little at the speed of the journey. For me, walking seems to propel my feelings forward. As I move, they loosen and shift. Maybe I should try jogging.. maybe that would move them even faster!

That got me thinking about the inside outside thing: how external things affect what I am feeling and how I travel through those feelings. Lately it is all too easy to eat rubbish, stay indoors and mope around like Banquo’s ghost in a grubby tracksuit. That would not make me feel good even in life before cancer, loss and the general vale of boos hoos, so it is not entirely surprising that doesn’t get me ascending to the dizzy heights of 7, 8 and 9 all that often right now.

The mafia would take it to the mattresses.. perhaps I need to drag out the war paint…

So, today I took action. I ate a vegetable and fruit or two along with the junk. I painted my nails. I pulled out the red shoes and a skirt. I dressed like I felt good, and I actually did feel kind of good. I took that little dog for another spin.

I’m thankful for heights – hills tops, blue skies, stiletto heels…the view seems a little better from high up. Maybe I can even hope for something higher than a 7…

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