Ok. Starting with Tuesday morning I had things mostly plotted out for the days between then and the wedding. Things changed Tuesday, so that stuff got bumped to Wednesday. Prone as I am to distraction ... well, Tuesday's stuff got done Wednesday and Wednesday's stuff was moving to today and somewhere along the way I was catching up or dropping something from the list and I wasn't emotionally attached to either outcome.
The landscapers arrived today to begin to finish the work we'd contracted in June. We knew they weren't coming back until mid to end of September and that was fine. I received a call last week that it would be end of last week or if not then, this week. This morning they came. I mentally rearranged some plans, swapping out the beginning of next week's tasks for now - today - and all was well.
As my friend says, "Weddings and funerals, weddings and funerals, people go insane." <------ may be a slight paraphrase. It is true. I had gained my sanity, bee bopping along all happy with my sane self and then today happened. I am fine dropping my own stuff into the ground. I am fine dropping stranger's stuff. But the stuff of loved ones can still give me issues. I recognize it, I back off from it, and recenter. But surrounding this event I still start the approach first.
In the never ending dance with Self when stress comes and time is tight (and weddings loom) old habits return as if they've never left. Forward and back, forward and back, the dance continues. This week has been a slow slipping. I've caught myself, though, and corrected my steps. Until today.
Managing feelings - others feelings - not mine, mind you. Trying to "fix". ~~deep sigh~~ I caught it, I retracted it, I corrected with what I should have uttered right out of the gate. I was fine with that.
Except I was not fine. Not really. I was falling into myself as I am wont to do when I start to become overwhelmed. Now that I should have noticed on Monday, when I dug out a decent chunk of the pad of my thumb with a screwdriver at work. Tuesday I became silent during talk of parents, aching at the absence of mine with OlderBoy getting married in a week. Yesterday I'd ditched the self care aspects of TheNewMe™ and was the relentless energizer bunny of cookies. When I replotted tasks today almost became rearrange the furniture/stuff in the blue room day. I stopped myself - one week before the wedding ... right ..... it can wait.
I went to the boxes in the basement instead. There are certain dishes of my mum's that my sister wants and she'll be in town for the wedding. I just needed to dig them out. As I pulled boxes off of stacks I sorted them quickly, pitching a bunch of stuff I didn't need/don't want while hunting the Wedgewood. I found it ~ hurrah! I tend to sing or chat during long monotonous tasks or I fall too far into myself during thought. I do it at work and I do it at home. It keeps me connected to here and now. Dishes, cleaning, checking in eyeglasses. I taught myself this habit when the kids were wee because diving too far into yourself is not good with wee ones around. So, soft tunes in the form of a CD or simply a song in my voice.
I did not notice my silence today. I immersed myself in the task in front of me. I pulled myself back, took breaks and chatted to the landscapers, but didn't notice how much I'd slipped and the breaks were more shams than not. I was still fine. Mostly. I was keeping my emotions at bay surrounding the ache as I went through boxes that reminded me that Jeremy has now only one generation back watching him wed. Normal expected bit of melancholy, keep moving forward. (See? Old habits - Die So Hard.)
And then I opened that box. In it was the flag that draped the casket. I had hunted for this flag. I had moved it from the other house. I had opened boxes over and again and had somehow, until today, missed this one box. That was it for fighting off old habits. I folded the rest of the way into me and dissociated - hard. I quickly finished enough to be able to restack boxes. I was done. No more boxes. I pulled out the shop vac and began cleanup.
I vacuumed the floor and hit nooks and crannies and snagged cobwebs. I worked toward the steps. I went up the steps and worked my way back down, hose in one hand, shop vac in the other, here and not here. I reached the bottom step and stepped back onto the floor. Herein lies the problem - I was not on the bottom step. I was in fact three steps up from the bottom. Three. W! T! F!
I somehow remained upright, not dropping the shop vac or the hose, but what I traded for that was a crashing halt against steel shelves and a small metal cabinet that rattled everything, especially me. The back, head and right arm took the brunt of the force. The bruises when they work to the surface should be colorful. (So happy I chose a strapless gown that will show them off in a lovely way for the plethora of photos next Saturday.) The swelling near the elbow has stayed small and local, the raised bump is little. Something happened to the neck. I hurt. Lots.
Oh. Right. This is supposed to be the gratitude post. I am grateful the bone in my arm is not broken? It is not sticking out through the skin so that must be a good sign.
And I have to go in for a half day of work tomorrow. FM.
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