Someday, sometime

Hopefully this will be my last post under Life During Wartime. The thirty days are passed, and no rockets are filling the sky. I spent the last two days waiting for the other shoe to drop. We were celebrating out holiday – Rosh HaShanah – and I wasn’t getting any news or information outside of what is available right here on the moshav. What we found here on the moshav is that the bombs haven’t begun again. Let the celebrations begin.


No. We celebrate the beginning of a new year, a new start. We make amends to people we have harmed during the year and (hopefully) try to learn to do a better job in the coming year.

The fact that the bombs haven’t started does not mean that we are at peace. No such treaty has been signed. We are merely lucky that, for the moment, the war returns to it’s quiet state, a state of siege. We resume our ordinary lives aware somewhere at the back of the minds that someday, sometime, the bombs will be raining on us again.

But not today. Thank goodness, not today.

I’m hoping for another driving lesson next week – it will be the fifth. Or sixth? I’ve lost count. Driving for the first time into the nearest city, Netivot, a little bit nervous.

My youngest son has joined a soccer team, which adds to the driving requirements of the family – here’s hoping I am able to get my license sooner rather than later. πŸ˜‰

Until I find a new topic that moves me, or the next time we’re in a shooting war, that’s it for me here. Thanks so much for reading along.

No particulars

During the past week I’ve thought often of writing here, but it hasn’t seemed like the right thing to do. Busy, yes, but also battling internal demons. During a war with bombs falling all ’round one’s internal demons shrink in importance, even seem to disappear for a while. If I want to be rid of them, I could move to someplace where there are no ceasefires… or, maybe not.

Family stuff is paramount. Trying to maintain and heal connections with family members in some areas, while trying to keep others at a firm and hopefully safe distance. There are people who never will step out of themselves long enough to acknowledge that there *are* other perspectives. Perhaps one could remain friends with a person like that, if nothing traumatic is happening. Not so much when one’s life is literally on the line.

I’m struggling to work through traumas that are decades old, and others that have occurred in the past year. Most recently I was abused by a doctor which has had the unfortunate affect that any time I need to see a doctor for any reason, I become practically frozen from fear. It doesn’t help that the last time I needed to see a doctor (opthalmologist, this past week), I met another doctor in the corridor who made no secret of his conviction that I am lying and making myself out to be worse off than I am. For what, for benefits? for attention? I don’t know and he never comes right out and says it, it is merely implied in his behaviour. “So you CAN get here for appointments” (implication: I don’t *need* the authorized home visits), when I had to get in to the clinic because there is no way to get my eyes checked for cataracts in my home.

It’s ugly and hard and is related to having an invisible chronic illness as well as being a trauma survivor (which is in it’s way also an i.c.i.) So it all comes around, myriad connections that make it sometimes harder to talk about because nothing can be reduced to a few simple sentences, but, perhaps, easier to work on as you can’t help but improve other things while working on any particular.

Quiet today, and since I’m not going into particulars, that’s all I’ve got to say.

Quiet – not the same as peace

I’m feeling pretty horrid today. The physical crash has been extreme, and it hurts to sit up. The body understands that the rush is over.

It is quiet here. Quiet is not entirely the same as peaceful, but I’ll take it for today.

I live on a tiny moshav with not many people, very few children. The house is quiet. I’ve been catching up on my music, actually, listening to a bit of Rebbe Soul which I had on audiotape years ago, and finally now have on the computer. Just can’t listen to audiotape any more. My last tape player gave up a few months ago, fortunately after I’d digitized almost all of my audiotapes.

Knitting another dishcloth. My oldest son does the dishes very often, and says we need many and many dishcloths. The dishes are allowed to pile up until they are creeping out of the room, and often dishcloths get lost in among the dirty dishes. Not how I would do it, but since I can barely make it to the kitchen most days, I have to let it go. Nobody has died from food poisoning yet.

I imagine I could/should leave this blog until I actually have something more to say, only, while it may look like it’s over, I’m still waiting to see if the ceasefire holds – if there is more rockets in my near future. So I guess I’ll write something here and there, until I either have a new topic, or the bombs are falling again, or I know I have nothing more to say.

For now, I’m going to give the body a break, and enjoy my Jewish jazz.

Thank heaven for a breathing space

As we return here to relative normalcy, I suspect I will become a less inspiring writer – not to mention finding it harder to find things to write about. I know that everything I write does not have to be dripping with intensity or significance, but I do find it harder to live with the things that I write that are more ordinary. I like ordinary. I’m just not very good writing about it.

While I’ve been busy the past couple of days not writing here, I have been finishing dishcloths for the family. Here’s two of them:

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At least two people said that I could just go to the store and buy something with which to wash dishes; and exclaimed that they were too beautiful to be used. I don’t see why not to have beautiful things with which to do ordinary tasks. I had this discussion with The Husband, the first time I made a pretty washcloth. He said he didn’t want to use it, that it was art and art should just be looked at. Fortunately I’ve convinced him that it is okay to have art you touch, pick up, and clean with. πŸ˜‰ Also, no need to preserve them for posterity. When they wear out or get lost, or whatever it is that happens to useful objects you like to have around, I can always make another one, or two, or three.

Right now doing a few washcloths is a nice break because everything else I am knitting is a big project. Nice to have something little to work on, and finish, and get that good feeling that comes from finishing something.

On another note, one of my health-care providers came to my house yesterday. She does acupuncture, but I am reluctant to call her an acupuncturist because she does so much more. One of the things we discussed is that now that we’ve got a week’s distance from the bombs, how everybody’s health is falling apart. One of the things we do, during a war, is prioritize unconsciously. Our bodies seem to know that now is not the time to be dealing with trivial stuff, so anything that isn’t immediately important gets pushed to the background, to grow and no, it doesn’t fade away. As soon as the rush is over (assuming it does end, of course, there are areas of this planet where war is an ongoing state of existence besides this one), all those other things come calling.

Also there are the difficulties that emerge from stress relief. Sometimes, if you’ve been stressed long enough, then relaxing is actually more painful (in the short run) than maintaining the stress level. I’m going through the relaxing part right now, and it is painful. Not physically so much, although I have a stiff neck to make me cry out sometimes – and it’s like so much else, not easy to put a finger on or describe, because it’s, oh, feeling disconnected, or out-of-sorts, or suddenly having emotions you didn’t know were there.

This morning I woke up crying. I couldn’t tell you why, it just was. Fortunately I know that I don’t have to know why. I also don’t have to cover it up, or be ashamed, or make it go away. It just was. I had my little cry and now I’m sitting here, still wondering how I am feeling? what am I supposed to be doing? what is the point? I don’t know.

I have to do the next right thing, which right now is moving on to coping with the family, and preparing for shabbot guests. A family we know, who live just a bit up the road and who spent most of the war away because they have very young children, are back and coming to visit. I’m very happy and a little bit nervous.

I’m always nervous about having guests, because as a cripple I can’t keep the house to a standard that I would prefer when guests come over; and, also due to my disability, we can’t and don’t do things the way most mainstream families do. I love having company but I do worry about being judged. Silly, now, because I know the family, but it is something I’ve lived with for most of my life, and isn’t going to fade away just because it doesn’t happen to match present circumstances.

The ceasefire continues, and while we are all trying to pick up and restring the threads of our lives, we are also keeping a guarded eye towards the reopening of active hostilities. In the north, there are active hostilities which are disrupting the lives of a whole bunch of ordinary people, people just like us here in the south. I have to occasionally work to remember that, not because it isn’t important here, but because there is so great a relief at being able to go outside without being afraid of bombs that I find I don’t want to think about the war going on in other places. I want and need a break.

I suppose that is exactly what a ceasefire is. The war is not over, but thank heaven for a breathing space.

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Shabbot Shalom from Kitten

Silly socks and other things

I start with photos of socks, just because.
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Socks I made just for fun, because I was tired of all of my current projects and the yarn was calling to me. I just finished a dishcloth, after finding out that we are pretty well out of dishcloths, so I’m going to be furiously knitting dishcloths for a few days – I figure four is a good functional minimum.

I’m still working on a blanket for myself, and I’ve begun a new project, making placemats and decorative furniture covers out of some lovely green, brown and tan linen yarn I’ve been hoarding for just this kind of things.

Now I only have two hands, so if I’m knitting all day, I really can’t be writing, or even reading much on the computer. So I can’t remember all the fun we’ve been having; but I do remember at some point yesterday talking to TH about how different I was feeling, and he immediately related it to feeling more connected. Connected to what? to real life, to whatever is actually going on, to being more functional. He says because it happened to him on Sunday. Whatever-it-is, it is definitely us returning to some sort of pre-war state, wherein we were more present in our lives, if that makes any sense.

One really doesn’t seem to be aware of being not present in one’s life, until suddenly it changes.

Another thing was that there was quite a ‘boom’ this afternoon. I haven’t heard any news, or seen anything about it, so I’ve no idea if it was a bomb, some kind of explosion either here or on the other side of the fence, or maybe even some blasting for construction. I think if it isn’t war related, then people ought to be considerate of what we’ve been through and at least make sure people know what is going on. And then again, it wouldn’t be the first time that a couple of bombs or rockets were ignored on our side in order not to rock the boat. We wouldn’t want the ‘cease fire’ to end just because they’ve fired at us.

I don’t know, I’m not assuming that it’s that. It is just that it has happened before.

I went for acupuncture yesterday – my blood sugar was through the roof, and I heard that everyone is having health problems – either chronic problems getting worse or new ones cropping up. Also that everyone has gained at least two kilos during the war. So I’m ahead of the game, not having gained any weight. I didn’t lose any, either, which I was doing before the war. I’d lost about a kilo every two months for a couple of years. So I’m guessing my not losing equates to other people gaining.

In any event it was nice to know that what I’m going through is normal, and I don’t have to panic and start taking drugs. Don’t like drugs.

There is a street fair that was to happen in Sderot, and was moved, and cancelled, and back on, and then postponed; which is (theoretically) finally happening on Thursday. I don’t think I’ll be in any shape to go, which is sad. I would have liked to. And it is still possible I suppose. Only my youngest daughter is supposed to be bringing her new ‘significant other’ to meet the parents, so that takes priority.

So much going on already and I really am exhausted, so that is all I can manage tonight. Sleep well, dream well, be well.

And another view of my silly socks:
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Just because. πŸ™‚