gratefulness — Joan Z Rough

R&R And The Free Newsletter I’d Like To Share With You

September 15, 2015 By Joan Rough

What I see when I open my eyes in the morning,

I’m on vacation on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I’m staying on Currituck Sound this time around. It’s quiet, peaceful, and absolutely gorgeous. Besides some Canada geese there was a Great Blue Heron fishing next to the dock early this morning. Evenings are filled with killer sunsets that change by the minute and seem to last for hours. The ocean is an easy six minute trek away, where I walk at least twice a day; the first as soon as I get up and put some clothes on and then a late afternoon walk as the shadows begin to shorten and the heat of the day is on its way out.

I have only four more days here. I wish I could stay another week.

But the main point of this blog post is that I’m joining the ranks of those who put out a newsletter as a way to expand my horizons and those of my readers. My blog is usually story driven with contemplations on how to live a rich and fulfilling life.

My newsletter will have different content and will be published monthly on the first day of each month, beginning on October 1st. It will cover many of the themes and issues I write about in my book, including compassion, gratitude, forgiveness, aging, PTSD, and caring for an aging parent.

Some Enchanted Evening.

I will also write about how writing my memoir and making visual art have helped me to find my center after years of wandering across an emotionally viscous sea of confusion and what AA and ALANON both call, Stinking Thinking.

There will be links to helpful articles on all of the above topics as well as books and movies that I have found to be of particular interest.

Each newsletter will include an image from one of my visual journals, for your enjoyment, as well as a way to encourage you to start one of your own. Everyone is an artist. By keeping a journal of your own creations you’ll find that being an artist does not mean you have to show your work in a gallery or share it with the rest of the world.

I will provide an occasional excerpt from my memoir along with updates as it makes it’s way to bookshelves in 2016.

Please use the sign-up form at the top of this page on the right to let me know you’d like to receive this new offering. Please take note that I will never share your email address with anyone else.

I’m very excited about sharing my newsletter with you and send you wholehearted THANK YOUs for signing up in advance.

Beautifully Blue

July 23, 2013 By Joan Rough

“This is the way I feel inside. Turmoil in twisted knots. Beautifully blue. And Black. And Purple. A bruise. But one that will heal to be more like the smaller, green outer pages, Still somewhat chaotic but fresh and very much alive. Still breathing. “

I made this collage in my journal and wrote those words on July 18, 2002. I was a year into taking care of my mother as her health declined. I invited her to come to live in my house. I thought I could help her through her final years. Bill thought it was a good idea, too.

On a day when Bill was leaving for a week in New York, Mom fell and broke her wrist. I was left alone with her to deal with her pain, her depression, and her growing neediness. It was not a life threatening situation. But it was an inconvenience. I felt overwhelmed and abandoned. I wasn’t ready to be a caretaker. I had no idea what I was doing. I had panic attacks, slept only a few hours each night, worrying about my mother. I was angry about the disturbance in my life, about Bill being gone. I wanted Mom to go away. I didn’t think about what she was feeling.

It was the beginning of a steep learning curve that brought me to my knees on many occasions. I was constantly confused and wanted out. But at the same time I wanted to take care of her. There were moments when I knew I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. And times when taking care of her meant the world to me.

In the car one day as I was driving Mom to see her doctor, she sighed and said, “If those old trees could talk it would be interesting.” I was deeply moved by what she said. She never talked about her emotional state during her last few years. I wasn’t ever sure that she was processing what was happening to her. But when she spoke those words, I knew that she was thinking about life and death and the passage of time. Later that evening I took her words and wrote the following poem.

She Said

“If those old trees could talk it would be interesting.”
And so we sat and listened.
She began to tell her own story
And when she was finished
The trees bowed to her in the wind.
The river never slowed its pace.

Looking back and rereading what I’ve written in my journals, I often feel guilt and heartbreak. But also very grateful. There is beauty in pain as well as healing.

Beautifully Blue

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