How, Now, Shall I Bloom?

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
Anaïs Nin

I have had a very hard time getting through this first month of 2023. I finally sold my car just before Christmas. I haven’t been able to drive for some time. But the cruelest loss of all is no longer being able to garden. I have been a lifelong avid gardener, garden designer and writer, creating many very large cottage gardens, and roses have always been my special love. I planted 60 or so here when I moved in in 2010, and the last few years, building a cottage garden all around the front and sides of Dragonfly Cottage I planted a great many more. And then July of 2019 I fell in the garden (I have long had problems with my feet, but would never have imagined how bad it would get.) and lie in the dirt for more than 30 minutes when I could finally reach neighbors to help me up and back into the house. I had to get a “Fall Pendant” after that fall and in the last 3 years I have become increasingly disabled, the past year has been the worst. At the beginning of the year I could still drive a little, by the end of the year my car was gone.

I manage getting around inside my house, very carefully, with a rollator walker, but in October I fell 3 times in less than 2 weeks and each time the EMT’s came and they also called the fire department for extra help because they were afraid they would hurt me getting me up. At that point my doctor once again set up physical therapy, occupational therapy (to help me live more safely in my house), and an aide to help me bathe, all, thank God, covered by Medicare. My house had to be completely switched around because I had to be very close to a bathroom at night, and my shower now looks like something in a hospital with a special chair in the shower, a long hose for washing, etc. I knew things would change with age, but I didn’t expect all of this to happen when I was only 68, and yet it has. And there have been so many more losses, I’ve practically lost count. It came to the point where I was afraid to move or breathe lest I fell again.

By the beginning of this year I felt like I was living in a sea of losses and I couldn’t get a firm footing anywhere. I am working on my art and a book with the kind support of my Patrons at Patreon where for as little as 5 dollars a month you can help support me so that I can get the supplies I need and live a little less afraid living, now, on social security. I don’t know what I would do without them and I am deeply grateful for anyone who would like to join us there.

Then last Tuesday while cooking dinner (I can only cook, make coffee, or do dishes sitting in my rollator walker. I can’t stand for long.) I was turning a piece of meat over in my cast iron skillet and the meat hit the pan hard and hot oil splashed all the way from my hand to my shoulder on the left side and in several places on my right hand. They are 2nd degree burns and the pain just took my breath away. Nearly a week later I am only a little less painful. I cannot hold a pen to write or draw because of the way my right hand is burned around my thumb and the web between my thumb and my first finger. Finally I got up the nerve to do this blog post since the tips of my fingers on this keyboard is doable, but two weeks ago my computer was hacked, terrible fraudulent activity on my Paypal account and bank, and I swear, it’s been 2 weeks getting that sorted and I’m not through yet. I was ready to just wave a white flag and say “I give up.”

The thing is, I am not one who gives up, and I have continued, these last 3 years, as I became increasingly disabled, to find ways to manage and learn to live life a completely different way. I have been agoraphobic for decades, but I could, with medication, make it to the doctor, get groceries, etc. Now I cannot leave at all. I have to arrange a ride through the senior center to get to a doctor’s appointment and I now have delivery services to do my grocery shopping and other errands. Writing this all out, much I have written about here and there at other times, I feel somewhat hopeless, at the apex of so many losses, so much pain, and fear, and a complete change in my way of living and even getting around my house, well, as I started 2023 all I could think about was all that I have lost, how much I hurt, and the fear of what might come next. I have been in the pit of despair, and now, so badly burned, I just about gave up completely.

And then I remembered Anaïs Nin’s quote. I have loved her for decades, read all of her books, most especially loving the diaries, and the editor of her diaries, Gunther Stuhlman, through an amazing story too long to tell here, asked to see my diaries, of which there were hundreds. I sent him a few, and life went on. But that quote I shared at the top of this post has stayed with me ever since, and as I thought, gingerly putting medicine on my burns, the quote came back to me. And I remembered for how many years, and in how many ways I have bloomed, and tears ran down my cheeks wondering how, now, I might ever bloom again. But just as quickly as that thought came to me I remembered all of the blessings I still do have in my life, and I felt deeply grateful, and no, I can no longer garden, which seems unimaginable to me, but I can sit here at my work table and read and write and draw and paint and create a whole new world with paper, pen and paint brush. By the grace of God, and the help of my beloved Patrons I have something to hold onto, people who believe in me, and I feel that I do have something to offer through my writing and art. And there are other lovely things like making a special tea time for myself each afternoon, and my beautiful children and grandchildren are healthy and well and I love them so very dearly. I realized, suddenly, that I was living too tight in the bud afraid there was nothing left for me, when still, and given everything that has happened to me, there is still room and a way to blossom. This is what my work is now, my most important work. Learning how to create a life in my own little cottage with my sweet little one-eyed dog Molly, a “chigi” (chihuahua/corgi mix which I had never heard of!) I adopted her 4 years ago this month and she is the love of my life and an emotional support dog for me. I also have two little clowns, my parakeets Franny and Teddy, a birthday gift from a dear friend when I turned 65. I will be 69 in April.

In 2023 I will continue to write my book and do my art and this year I want to figure out a way I can sell some of my art for much needed funds to keep going here, and I hope to grow my Patreon, again, to make life a little easier here, and the love and support my dear community there gives me is so important to and for me, well, there simply are not sufficient words.

And yes, the most important work I have this year is working at designing a life that is comfortable, magical, yes, and even enchanting. I want twinkly lights everywhere, I will put art up all over the cottage on walls and anywhere it will fit (My own, my grandchildren’s, other artist friends) and I was gifted a course by an artist I love dearly, Sandi Hester, who has the most amazing channel on YouTube, a lovely website, she is just a delight, and this class is on landscape painting. I said to Sandi (You learn SO much more in her classes than just the main subject) that while I am no longer able to go outside and paint Plein-Air, painting the outside world around me, my little cottage is the landscape that I live in. I will learn to write and paint from the vantage point of a disabled older woman whose home is her landscape. I have so much to learn in so many ways doing this experiment.

And as I am bipolar and have lived since childhood with mental health problems due to ongoing abuse (I thankfully have the most wonderful therapist I have seen for years and now online every week, and a med-manager who keeps me as balanced and sane as possible. The medication is a miracle.) I have got to form a set of routines and rituals which are the framework that keep me feeling safe, and help me get through the hours when the chronic pain is bad. I am learning more about radical self care, self soothing, I am no longer apologizing for the things I cannot do, and I am giving my whole heart and soul to my writing, art, and life-tending that is possible, given all that is.

And so yes, I have lived very tight in this dis-abled world I live in, afraid to live life, not even considering any kind of blooming might be possible, but the more determined I am to move through my days and hours with the carefully planned routines that keep me going, the more art I make, the better it gets and the more confidence I have in myself, and though I can’t garden I have a few plants I am learning to care for and hope over time to be able to get more and inexpensive plant lights (I literally live surrounded by 100 year old trees and there are no bright sunny windows here.), and I am determined to write about all of this to encourage others who are older or disabled and having a hard time finding their way to a liveable life, just as they are. I think it’s a worthy topic I can undertake. It’s how I shall begin this new life of mine as I gingerly and shyly take a risk in blossoming as an old lady whose life has drastically changed. I want to help other people in my position. I want to be of service in this world inasmuch as I am able. I want to smell the perfume that comes from this new garden of earthly delights I am creating right here (Natural scented candles, essential oils, fragrant teas, and more.) and I have returned to reading the books I think I love most in the world, Gladys Taber’s Stillmeadow books and other of hers.

And now I am getting very tired, and I hurt, but my heart feels joyful just imagining all that might be. Will you bloom with me, however you can? I will be writing a lot about this in my Patreon and in my books, and bits and pieces here and there on social media, but I really do have to concentrate on doing my work mainly for my Patrons, because right now it is the thing that is helping me survive and do my work. I’d be honored for you to join us there.

Blessings and love dear ones, and may 2023 be a year of growth, of blooming, and of joy for us all, in whatever way it may come…