I really like my neighbor. He’s in theatre and has a loud booming voice, a larger-than-life character and flamboyant in more ways than one. However, his need for excess had brought me to a point of concern. Without going into detail, let’s just say that he is considering crossing a boundary that would leave me feeling rather caged.
My zodiac sign is Cancer. When I was a child and read about the characteristics of Cancerians, I thought to myself, “This is not me, not at all.” As I aged, one by one, those characteristics emerged and I can say with most certainty that I am a Cancerian. One trait that I cannot deny is my complete and total avoidance of confrontation. If something presents itself or appears to become a possibility that I do not like, instead of confronting the situation, I run, hide and work myself into such a tizzy that I cannot sleep and cause myself physical and mental distress of great heights. It’s like I become a toddler, incapable of explaining what is upsetting me and I have a tantum of sorts that breaks me to a point where I drive myself to exhaustion and I simply need a nap to cope with my reality.
I saw a little ditty on Facebook today that I feel aptly describes me. It said that a friend is someone who overlooks your broken fence and admires the flowers in your garden. I am proud to say that I am blessed with a number of folks who are capable of doing so. I’m so broken, in so many ways that I find it challenging to understand why anyone gives me the time of day, let alone, takes the time and energy to be my friend. My goodness, it must take a lot of energy to be willing to even try and be my friend. I’m a mess and have been told that I am more than one man can handle. Yet, there are those who have proven themselves brave enough to endure the gale wind forces that are Groovy Gail.
So much has been happening the past few weeks. I’m working countless days and hours and managing a household. That in itself has been exhausting, but when a pleasant enough conversation with my dear neighbor revealed his plans for “more”, I lost it. Not to him, because that would be a more adult thing to do. Instead, the toddler in me got so worked up, I didn’t sleep. Fortunately, someone helped me to “use my words” and I sent my neighbor a passive/aggressive text message suggesting that he ask the city about “ordinances” so that if I were to move, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience to him.
Me, move? Would I ever? Could I ever? My current drive to work is making me wonder more and more. So much garbage in the streets. So many unsavory characters litter my path. I’m really starting to think that I have reached my breaking point. As my body weight continues to climb, I wonder if there exist enough body armor to protect me from all my brokenness.
As I have shared in the past, my father passed from advance staged dementia. It was years in the making, but I was blind to it. His final years were ugly at best and his last few months, absolutely dreadful. A few days ago, my across the street neighbor, a woman I have know my entire life came to my front door, very unexpectedly. She is in her 90’s and suffering from dementia. She decided to leave her house, but upon doing so, she became very disoriented and couldn’t find her way back. Fortunately, she found me and fortunately, I know how to contact her family. I sat her down and covered her chilled bare legs with a warm blanket and sat there holding her hand until my son was able to fetch her husband. I told her, “We all get a little confused at times.” We really do.
Her 95-year-old husband came to collect her and take her home. He had been so worried about not being able to find her in the house. It was heart breaking really, to witness the love he has for her and she no longer seems to recognize it. Her fence is broken to, but the love they have shared for 60 years or more is a stunning garden that will never die.
Like I said before, I’m working so much these days, I don’t even know what day it is anymore. I keep going, doing my best to keep the plates spinning. I have a day off coming up soon and the only thing I have on tap is housework, trying to keep this place tidy and such. I manage to tend my garden and all my houseplants because, they make me happy. I recently purchased a shirt that will hopefully fit over the extensive armor I’m growing. It says, “Into the garden I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” I sincerely hope that those who are brave enough to look past my broken fences will see that my soul is hanging in there.
Maybe it’s time to go, to find someplace else to tend my garden. Some place less filled with litter and questionable characters, someplace where neighbors are quite a distance away so I don’t have to be concerned with flamboyant clutter and boundaries. I would miss the neighbors I have know most all my life, but they are few and fewer with each passing day. Also, with everyone being so busy with their lives, would anyone really notice if I no longer dwelled in the home, I have lived my entire life? Highly unlikely. I realize that I am a freak of sorts, having lived in one home for over 50 years, but it is my garden, my safe haven. However, I’m not feeling so safe anymore and that saddens me, it really does.
Broken fences, too broken to mend? Let’s see what the next few months reveal.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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