copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
I told my Parents I was going to have buns of steel. I went up and down those damn narrow stairs at least twenty times or more a day. I'd go down the stairs to get into the kitchen for my eye routine with the hot washcloth and make some tea. Then I'd go back upstairs to have my tea and do my therapy. Back downstairs for breakfast. Upstairs after breakfast for writing or to get dressed to do more moving. And so on, and so forth, on and on, it would go every day.
I went for a walk to check my bird bath water at my former home, the Cabin, on Parcel B. I saw a car down at my Parent's old house, the A-Frame, on Parcel A. Great. It was another looky-loo buyer imagining what they could do to the house if they owned it.
As I walked onto the deck of the Cabin I noticed someone had cut through the side of my yard. Probably to go onto the porch and get a better view of what could be theirs. But they hadn't been smart enough to leave it the way they'd found it. Or they didn't care. I checked all the windows and the doors from the outside of the Cabin to make sure no one had broken in. Then I looked inside the windows to make sure all my stuff that was still in the house.
I told my Parents about it when I got back from my walk.
"They probably thought the house [the Cabin] was part of Parcel A [the A-Frame]. Especially with the notice of eviction on the door [of the Cabin]," I told my Parents.
"Well, all the confusion about the boundaries is actually better for us," said Dad.
All the growing stress was piling up on Dad, and he was starting to get really down on himself.
Could you blame him?
He felt like it had been his sole responsibility to provide for his family and turn our situation around. But things seemed to get worse, not better, with each passing day. He took it all very personally. I knew him well enough to know that. It felt almost as if we were being punished, that our lives would never turn around, and our Dreams would never be fulfilled.
And with all of negativity running around in his mind, Dad started to get very depressed. He normally didn't get depressed. Most of the time, if anyone was going to get depressed, it was Mom. But this time, Dad was the one slipping into the dark pit. I knew he felt close to just giving up entirely. We were all failures and we had the lives to prove it.
Why didn't we just give up?
It would be so much easier to just roll over, stick a fork in us, and call us, "Done".
After all, what did we have to show?
Well, we had two Foreclosures, with another two on the way in the not too distant future, one turn down for help, no money, no prospects for money, and about zero response for funding our Dreams.
What else could we deduce?
"I don't know how much more of this I can take," he said.
It was evening and the fading light was shifting over their bedroom. His voice quivered with desperation.
I'm not sure I'd ever seen or heard Dad this bad before. It scared me, right to my core. It was not a good sign when Dad was acting like he was ready to give up. I couldn't do this on my own. Mom was useless already. All she had to give was her moody tantrums, which Dad just ended up reacting to, sending them both into a downward spiral. To be honest, I was the only sane one in the group, even with just one good eye.
We needed Dad. He was our captain. Dad was the only one who could pull us all through. I needed him. I couldn't carry this weight. I couldn't carry all of us. I couldn't carry myself, my Mom, and my Dad. It would break me. I knew it would.
I decided to get proactive with him. I went upstairs and grabbed my Code Book and went through it. I looked for energy exercises he could do that would help him overcome the extreme desperation he felt.
Then I went back downstairs to the master bedroom, and made him do the exercises that I'd picked out. Otherwise he wouldn't do it. Dad was such a hard head sometimes. He'd balk even if it would help him feel better. But I wasn't going to put up with that shit tonight. No sir.
There were a total of five different energy exercises I made all three of us go through in their dinky overstuffed new temporary bedroom. Mom was standing on one side of the bed, Dad was on the other, and I was standing at the foot of the bed. I talked them through each one, as we did them, step by step. One of them, called "Separating Heaven and Earth" always made me feel better. We were all so tired. But Dad did them, and I was proud of him.
Right before bed Dad said, "I feel better. Thank you."
"Good. See what happens when you listen to your daughter," I said with a big grin on my face.
He'd gone from Mr. "Doom and Gloom" to "Happiness and Joy". It was a little funny, but in a good way. Sometimes it's good to move a little energy around when you're having a tough time with your emotions. Maybe it would help him be more open to my help. I doubted it, but pigs might fly one day...maybe.
"To pray the prayer of healing we must visualize a change for which we can give thanks."
Dr. Rebecca Beard
Medical Doctor & Metaphysical Practitioner
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