I was encouraged earlier this week as my pageviews were up to almost sixty. They seemed to be growing. I thought I need to get back to the blog for the reasons I wrote here before: the discipline, the dead lines, the reaching out to people. Then back down to five pageviews, yet I hadn't posted anything since Wednesday.
I use a lot of energy fighting depression. I wrote a poem today, but so personally deep, I'd rather not share, yet. I wonder at my restless soul and how much this affects my daughters. Reconciling the dreams and reality and how hard one must work for dreams. Did I expect fairy tale endings and like Once Upon a Time (a TV show about fairy tale characters in modern day world), do the endings never come? I feel even my chapters don't end nicely. Yes, I used the word nicely.
I wonder often about the difference between content and resignation. I desire to be content in all circumstances, yet what really does that mean? Do I turn a blind eye at what could be better? Or is that resignation, that nothing can change? I mull this over. One answer seems to be whether one has joy. I don't mean a giddy happiness with no thought of tomorrow.
My mother in her last four years of life found that contentment. By world's standards, her belongings reduced to one room, it would seem the lowest point of her life. Sometimes she would wonder where certain things went, but she didn't seem to dwell on that. She showed concern for the workers at the home. She never bemoaned if it had been awhile since a visit from us. In her last months, she would wake from a sound sleep, a little confused and think I was my sister. She missed her children, but she didn't complain.
Mom remained kind, even at her sickest. In the hospital, lab technicians would dig in her arms for veins. Finally, after two or three people would try, the last one with success, she would thank them. Anyone coming into her hospital room received appreciation. She had found joy and she shared it.
Surprise filled the employees' faces.
I try to learn this lesson from my mom. Maybe when our resources are diminished, our joy increases. Or maybe it is the old age reminding us to end well. We don't have that many tomorrows to make a positive impression. Mom did it. Visitors were amazed that they felt better after they stopped to see my mom. She showed interest in them. It was not the usual nursing home visit people envision.
Engagement in others brings joy. I have tried to tell my daughters that from an early age as they said, "No one likes me." I would answer, "Be their friend. Ask them questions." Everyone likes to talk about themselves, if they think someone cares.
The girls are in service industry jobs. I see their caring from a distance. I hear about their friendliness from customers. They have learned to reach out to others. I guess something has been passed on.