I have written a lot about grieving and how ive carried it for years, deep down in a dark and quiet place because it was not possible to share such a thing openly. I had a husband. I had children. Nobody knew him. I was alone. I buried it and went on.
Until I came home. I have written so much about this. You have patiently gone along with me as I rebuild my camper and my life. This blog is as sacred as the confessional. I start from the bottom and work upwards.
Today it rained. It rained as it needed to rain and the water cleansed the smoke from the wildfires in California and some say Canada. Lightning strikes hitting the ground were impressive. I sat in the vehicle I was driving and waited for the deluge to stop because I couldn’t see. I listened to the pounding rain on the roof of my car and watched the rivulets of water streaming down the windows. Rivers of water. All I had cried through the years and now since I’d come back.
In the aftermath of the storm there is peace. The world is different for the change but it finds peace.
So will I.
I am not dead. I am still here. Still blessed with good health and children I love and a home and a job and the ability to do work I love through writing or Tarot reading . My life is not over. It is filled with possibility.
I haven’t worked on the camper much lately. Ive been just cutting foam insulation and insulating the bare spots, which, as you remember from earlier posts, is down to bare aluminum because the old studs were rotten along with what old insulation was left from the water damage sustained before I got it. Ive been having to do a lot of little things lately. Spot insulation with spray insulation in the door and windows. New weather stripping around the outside of the windows. Caulking what gaps I find.
Again I am stunned by the parallels of this camper and my life. Cleaning up the bits and bobs as my British friends would say. I am listening to Loreena McKennitt and thinking about all I’ve had to clean up in myself in reconciling the past going forward into a new future in my hometown which is familiar but not familiar at the same time.
- Unresolved grief
- Learning a healthy lifestyle mentally and physically begins with living a smaller and minimalist life
- When your living space gets smaller everything gets smaller
The evening is cool and soft. The clanking of the trains with its mournful horn sounds as it bangs and rocks through the night past my tiny home is something that now I am used to and cant sleep without. The smell of ham and bean soup with fresh vegetables and herbs wafts through the air and adds to the coziness of this small living space that I have come to consider cradles me. It is swaddling and I like a child being held tight. I have been at sea in a world too large for me and I adrift in it. It is a comfort now to be in a tiny space where everything has a place and is in its place.
When the insulation is in place then the framed bench goes into place. Then i will have a larger bed. I will get my table and seats back on tbe other side when I move the bed over to the newly fixed bench. I am excited about that, but also finding I am not in a hurry to give up the small loft bed I’ve been sleeping on for a month on top of my breakfast nook. The small bed has been solid and embryonic for me curled up in sleep. To stretch out in a larger bed is a freedom that I will develop an appreciation for; but for now, I am loath to give up being that fetus-like sleeper.
I make ham and bean soup with the little bit I have in my pantry. Onion, celery, great northern beans, ham necks, carrots. I find I don’t need salt and I’ve cleaned up leftovers so no food will go to waste. It is important to me that food is never wasted. I realise how large American packaging is for food and that they don’t package for one person. They package for a family. A sack of celery hearts is too much for one Crock Pot of soup. I only used three stalks. I will be eating celery for ages. One garlic bulb is enough to last for many makings of soup. I only needed two cloves. Four carrots was enough for my soup. The rest of the package I will have to eat in lunches. I never realized before that packages could be so large. In a house I never thought abkut it. I bought food and had large cupboards to keep it in. I have that no longer so I can’t buy huge amounts of groceries. I have to shop more frequently but thats what they do in Europe. They buy small amounts of fresh food more frequently and use all of what they purchase. I will have to learn to eat smaller now.
Eating smaller is healthier though. Everything narrows when you live smaller.
This is true. I don’t have much and I am calmer. I don’t feel the emptiness I used to fill with buying things on Amazon I did not need. I walk around stores now, because I have so little money, and I cannot think of one thing I am desperately in need of. I realize I have been trained to be a consumer, and I am untrained in how to live without consuming. I have conflated living with consuming only to find that consuming constsntly as we do consumes us.
It can seem like we have reams of time on our hands when we stop shopping. I have learned little by little to fill that time creating.
- Creating a home.
- Creating blog entries like this
- Recreating my life
- Uncovering me.