Limbo

This is the kind of post I never thought I would write . . . either because I thought my dad would always just be dad or because if he ever got sick, I would fall apart.

But my dad is sick. Well, he was sick - he's just not getting better.  My dad - the strongest man I have ever known - had a stroke last week.  A mild one.  True to my dad, he was NOT going to cooperate with an IV.  So he was given a sedative.  And he hasn't really come out of it.

There is a trifecta of reasons for this, I think.  One, my dad is 84 years old. Which seems pretty old but considering his mom lived to be 94, is relatively November-ish.  Two, my dad is totally whigged out about being in the hospital away from his home.  Can't blame him there.  I react that way when in the hospital.  Three, because of 1 and 2, he is depressed.  Just doesn't want to deal with it.  Can't blame him there.  He knows that when it is time (WHEN it is time), he's going to be going to a much better place.

So why am I not falling apart?  I am.  From the inside.  I've had a perpetual lump in my throat.  My metabolism is running on superspeed and weight is falling off me like leaves on a maple in the fall.

But yet, I know my dad is going to be alright.  My grandmother has been here and has told me that it isn't his time quite yet.  I hope he is listening.  I need my dad.  I'm going to be 50 this year and I need to talk to my dad.  I need to tell him that I am sorry for holding down his arm so that the nurses could put an IV in.  I feel really bad about that because he was so mad - he didn't want that in.

I'll post some pictures to this post but I doubt that I will ever re-read it.  The only reason I can write it is that I need to get rid of this lump in my throat.  I also need to write it because I really love my father and need to put into writing that he is going to be fine.  He just is.

The light of God will surround him, the love of God will engulf him, the power of God will strengthen him, and the presence of God will watch over him.  Wherever my dad is, God is.  Thanks M Roberts for this.

Personal trainer.

My personal trainer is fierce. No matter how fast I run, he runs just a bit faster.  He is relentless.  If I don't run then he wakes me up at night with his whining and pacing round and round the house. 

My personal trainer makes me a better, faster runner.  Snow or rain doesn't discourage him.  Only midday heat will keep him from our run.

My personal trainer is the best.  In return for his motivation and encouragement, all he asks for is love, ear scratches and kibble.

Where I run.

I'm lucky to work at a place that has running spots like this.  After a morning of frustration, I can be down the steps and out the door and in the beauty of the forest in just a few minutes.  Some days, the trees are what save me from screaming.  The promise of bird songs gives me strength to make it through a morning of dealing with humans.  Living things aren't meant to be caged in cubicles.

The art of fencing.

 I've had animals for nearly 5 years now: goats, Dolly-llama, horses, chickens.........and it seems as if I've been working on one fence or another almost the entire five years.  On a broken shoe-string budget and no working knowledge of how to make a good fence, my fence-making results have been a bit substandard.  I've fixed fences with baling twine, chicken wire, sticks, blankets, pallets, old toy tonka trucks, freezer-chests, panty-hose.....
But I'm getting old now, I'm not a young chick.  I have gardens to tend, quilts to make, kids to enjoy.  I don't want to have to react to a goat getting out.  I just want it not to happen.  I want my fences done right.

I'm sick of the piecemeal fences and I'm sick of my animals escaping.

 Last summer my husband and his dad put in wood fence posts.  Unfortunately the ground was so saturated by the above average rainfall, that some of the posts didn't set before fall.  So we couldn't put up the wire.  Oh, and no consideration was given for corner bracing or gate bracing. 

So my next big project is just putting up the dang fence.  I'll get some fence wire, some insulators, and put the stuff up.  I'll search on the internet, scope out some local fences and figure it out.  In the words of Nike, I'll just do it.  I do realize that it may be the end of a marriage (just kidding, kind of) but I can't wait forever.  I need a gate too.  I'm tired of trying to hurl 5 gallon buckets of water over a 3 foot high rope fence.  Because the pump doesn't work and I have to haul everything from the house.  Not that I'm complaining, just stating a fact.  I'm not totally against hauling the water because I've developed some very nice shoulders over the past couple years.
                                                    I'm just thinking that it would be nice to have the fence finished so that I could move on to fixing something else, like the inside of my house.  Maybe even cleaning it, which then may lead to painting it.  Who know, getting proper fencing may lead to a whole new set of positive changes at One Old Goat farm. 

So this is happiness.

 This past weekend was one of the best weekends I have ever had.  My depression is gone and for the first time that I can remember, I truly had a weekend filled fully with happiness.

It's not that I haven't had good weekends before - its just that usually at some point the noise and commotion become too much for me and I just can't deal with it.  Social anxiety walks hand-in-hand with depression and the combo can be catastrophic at times.

I visited with my parents this weekend and my daughter, grandson, brothers, sister-in-law, niece and nephew were there.  I can honestly say that I have never laughed so hard or just really had a great, great time.

Now that I'm am putting this in words, it seems ridiculous to be so excited about having an anxiety-free weekend.  But it was. And I did.  The ugly, scary hole of depression may be gone forever and it may be waiting around the corner for me to step into it when I'm not paying attention.  But one thing I can carry with me is the knowledge that things truly do get better and that by taking care of myself, I can feel good again.  I do have some control over this and that alone, makes it more bearable. 

So life is good - very good - these days at One Old Goat farm. 

Cage Queen (or things that I know now that I wish I knew then)

These days I find that my satisfaction comes from a cage well-cleaned.  I get paid to be an academic counselor - I volunteer my time (once a week) to clean dog cages from our local Pets Come First (formally the SPCA). 

Which do I value most?

I feel that my time is better spent cleaning the cages for ten dogs who have been dropped off lost, neglected, abused.  Today as I took nearly two hours to clean these dog-rooms, make their beds, fix them clean water bowls and feed them, I realized that I would rather make 10 dogs feel a little more loved, a little more comfortable than I would 'try' to cater to humans of my age who expect to purchase 'service' and 'education' according to their own whims and schedules.  You can't buy love and you can't buy education.  It just doesn't work.

I know that sometimes this blog is filled with 'not-so-happy' posts and that it should really be focused more on my farm.But........

Today as I was washing out water buckets for the residents of our doggy rooms, I heard a prospective adopter ask a potential adoptee if he would like to come live with them.

I cried.

This was a couple who came in looking for a dog.  And who found a dog (my daughter's favorite) a 'forever home'.   This was my first time witnessing such an event first hand.  I knew that the skinny boxer in room #9 was going to be adopted today and I was incredibly happy.  But I heard this firsthand.  Rudy was going to have a home.  By the time of my next cleaning, Rudy would be gone.  To his forever home. 

But then what about Boss?  Or Sadie and Riley?  What about these older dogs?  If I had the funds (and I'm working on this), I would open a home to adopt only geriatric dogs.  I've experience in this as most of the dogs I've owned have lived to ripe old ages.  Boss is a beautiful 12-year-old spaniel mix, Sadie and Riley are a 9-year-old beagle couple.  They deserve to be loved (and kept together) throughout their natural time on earth. 

People???? Not so much.  Maybe some day.  (Except for my mom and dad)

Dogs???? Always.  And I'm trying to figure out a way

Favorites.

My son and daughter made this the best day!

 Two of my favorite people, one of my favorite dogs, all in my most favorite place of all.  Life doesn't get much better than this!

Sebastian reluctantly climbing out of the creek after his umpteenth dip of the hike,

I don't often get my oldest son to go on hikes with me - today was a special treat!

The forest calms my soul.

Beauty everywhere I look.

And yet humans always have something to add.

I don't ever want to leave -

Back again.

It has been a while since I felt like writing. That is how depression affects some people - we pull back into ourselves away from everyone and everything. Socializing becomes exhausting. Trying to form words whether written or spoken can take more energy than running a marathon.  An introvert anyways, depression makes me want to fold up until I can't be seen.  This early spring has helped immensely.  There is nothing like a climb up a mountain with a really great kid and an energetic dog.    It seems that for a while anyway, the depression monster may be kept at bay.  Over the past few weeks, I felt its choking hold ebb slowly away.

I'm doing what I need to do. My daughter and I have been volunteering at a local animal rescue, I continue to run, and I make myself go out and be around other people.  It has helped.

So hopefully the words will come again.  Just like the sun and the happiness have returned.

Bright spots.

Proof that everyone has a friend.  On many mornings I've seen this black hen and bunny walk/hop across the backyard.  What an unlikely couple. 

Upside of sad.

 

Being sad isn't all bad.  At least when I feel sad, I know that I feel.  And if I feel sad, I know that happy is right around the corner.  It's mostly a seasonal thing.

I've been profoundly sad for the past couple of months - likely due to a number of things.  Not the least of all has been the death of a hero, the anniversary of the deaths of several of my favorite people, endings, painful beginnings, mud.

The dark dreary days of winter don't lighten my spirits either. The good thing about being sad is that I know that I'll be happy again. My sadness is legitimate just as my happiness will be.

But sadness beats the choking nothingness of depression.

Anytime.

Farm and mud and getting nothing done.

Another beautiful day! So......I went out to (first) clean out the kidding pen, then to hang up clothes (in the trees), and to work on the covering on the well.  What really happened is that I got the clothes hung, started to look at the pump only to find that the entire top had cracked and broken so.........I'll be lugging 5 gallon buckets until my husband either takes the pump in and replaces it (it was a new pump and shouldn't have cracked) or until I get the old pump that a friend had given me up and running.  Since I work from dark to dark, I won't get to it until Saturday.  I did make a fair amount of headway cleaning out the kidding pen but holy moly!!!!  the hay packs in like peat moss!  My back is aching and my shoulders are sore from getting it nearly all cleaned out.

I had every intention of working on a quilt but took a nap instead. So while I got some stuff done, there's still a good bit that I'll be making up next weekend.  I'm hoping by then some of the mud has either dried or frozen.