Those little blue “wisps”, they’re called.
I’ve seen my own over the course of the summer…bringing the rollercoaster of stress back and forth…ebb and flow…into the chaos of the made-for-tv-movie version of my life.
The Will o’ the Wisp enticing me into dark regions, only to bestow favours and light…but, most assuredly, off the trodden path…
[what in the blue hell are you ON, girl?]
I recently had the most glorious entitlement to THREE weeks of (paid) vacation… 10 days of which I spent camping (aka, living the frak OUTside).
It was, hands down, the BEST 10 days I’ve had in awhile (and by “awhile”, I mean for about a year and a half of consecutive days).
This past year has been spent managing the chaos of multiple chronic afflictions, managing a substance abusing son who was ultimately told to leave the family home, managing the planning of THE most epic wedding EVA’ (to which we still receive accolades)…managing not to run head-first into a wall. That kind of thing.
If I had a dollar for every time a doctor (primary care or supporting) asked me, “Do you feel you have a lot of stress in your life?”…
…my “I’ve-earned-this-ass” would be parked on an island that I’d own.
[enter wisps, stage left]
It’s only been a year that the big “reveal” was made to my most inner of circles…the kidney failing bullshit that threatens my attempt to take over the world. The combined pericarditis which is just a royal pain in the ass, making me feel like I can’t breathe. All. The. Time. Plus all the logistical crap of having the lining around your heart swell up and shit. Go Google it.
I’m tired of alluding to it.
I’m tired of skirting around the magnitude of my reality for fear of the, “Oh sweetie,” shit. But, I’ve decided, I’d rather people know in all fairness to the love and support I receive from them daily…the RT’s…the “Like”‘s…
Only when you’ve had to protect your children from your other children would you begin to understand the “I am TOTALLY going to need therapy” that a only mother’s guilty heart could know…
I get back from the most validating spiritual enlightenment I’ve had to date.
I get back having left the stresses for 10 glorious days.
I get back having made it there and back (2.5 hours @ way) with a completely non-existent front end suspension and brakes.
I have NO idea how that was even possible.
I verily believe that my existence is of some kind of whacked-out requirement for some greater good.
So, faced with no car, the only asset in my name (pride & independence)…having appointments overdue (I maintain a tight schedule of pissing in a cup almost every week. How fun.), open criticisms in public forums (take your purple painted ponies pooping butterflies and shove them up your ass…I’m not playing Eeyore, dudes…it’s the reality of my life and I need a goddamn vehicle with four kids in the house and failing health)…I was facing not only a severe XP hit to my esteem, but also the reality of managing all that I need to manage…
[enter wisps, stage right]
Sometimes help comes from places you least expect. Sometimes, it even comes when you’ve not asked. Sometimes you’re asked to handle more than you can, in order for the success of your fates to come to fruition…
Mine comes at the sacrifice of something else, however. Doesn’t it usually?
I’m currently awaiting the arrival of the tow truck dude to haul my car’s “I Fight Like a Girl” bumper-stickered ass back to the garage to be fixed.
In order to pay back for the awesomeness that are all things automotive, I must postpone (for a couple of months *fingers crossed*) enrolment into the herbalism program.
[underlying stressor of time, stage centre]
Coupled with the anticipation that we’re bringing boy #1 back home for the start of the school year, now having had a friend come through with, quite possibly, the BEST list of resources for our family to date…with eager anticipation of seeing where his wisps will take him having the love and support of the family he now so desperately appreciates…
Some legends say the wisps are fairies.
Some legends say the wisps are the mischievous spirits of the dead.
Whatever your take…it’s something from my ancestral lore that helps me manage and believe that “things work out” if you’re prepared to take the road less travelled.
As long as that road contains an herbalism program, a chocolate store and a therapist…I’m all set.
(for you own amusement, you can check out the Wiki page for Will o’ the wisp: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Will-o’-the-wisp)