Surrounded by beauty.

Posted on August 24, 2016 by luckyotter

I went back to the beach this morning (I finally got up early), and the tide was the lowest I’ve seen it, and it was still going out. Sandbars stretched pretty far into what was covered over by water the day before yesterday, leaving bathwater-hot tidal pools filled with small tan fish (probably minnows), skeins of green-brown seaweed, and tiny hermit crabs. I put my things down on the dry part of the beach and waded out, deliberately stepping in the warm pools and feeling the soft silty sand along the way. Dragonflies flitted back and forth, probably looking for mosquitoes for brunch. The only annoying thing was the many biting sand-flies, which tried to eat up my legs (why didn’t the dragonflies go after those?) But as soon as I’d waded far enough where no more sand was exposed, the biting flies disappeared.

I found a nice spot that wasn’t too mushy (some of the sand here is VERY soft, reminding me of quicksand, so I had to be mindful of that) and fairly free of seaweed. I settled into the slightly cooler water there, which only came up to my waist when I sat down in it.

At first there was no one else but me on the beach. I felt like I was the only person on earth. The sky was a bright blue dome, darkening to almost indigo toward its center, with white puffy cumulus clouds lining the edges against the horizon like lace trim. The water was clear and reflected the blue of the sky. I had waded so far out that I was surrounded on every side by barely moving but ever-changing water. I could tell the tide was still going out by the direction of the tiny ripples, and I kept having to move farther in to stay immersed. I looked back at where I’d laid my things on the beach and could barely see them anymore. I was very far out! I decided not to go any further because I didn’t want to lose sight of my things, even though it looked like the very shallow water went out quite a ways. I also didn’t want to be stuck any farther out if the tide suddenly came in.

I laid down in the water and dug my toes into the wonderful fine sand. I put my hands behind my head and let my elbows rest in the sand, propping my head up so I could see. It was clouding up just a little, and they looked so close overhead I felt like I could reach out and touch them. I heard gulls overhead and way in the distance, I could hear the rumble of a motorboat. I stretched out my arms and legs and just let myself float, tempted to shout to the sky about how great God is and what an incredible gift this trip has been for me, and how blessed I am to be in this healing place right now.

Mindful of my things on the beach and not wanting to drift too far away, I got myself back in a seated position and played with the sand again, rubbing it all over me the way I did two days ago. I decided to give myself a facial (that’s how soft this sand is!) so I plastered some of it on my face, let it dry a little, and then washed it off in the slightly salty water (Gulf water is less salty than ocean water). A few other people were visible here and there now, wading in the tidal pools or sitting in the shallow water. A young couple obviously in love embraced not too far away. Maybe they were on their honeymoon. I hoped things worked out for them.

It was getting hotter and there were more people now, including some kids with plastic buckets and shovels collecting shells and hermit crabs. These kids and their equipment triggered a memory of myself as a mosquito-bitten, golden-tanned and skinny 8 year old, exploring a similar beach much farther north where my parents had rented a vacation cottage for two weeks. That beach was off Cape Cod Bay in Massachusetts, where I remembered the sandbars had stretched out even further into the distance–so far that the deeper water was only a thin dark blue line against the horizon. I remembered playing out there for hours, collecting hermit crabs in my orange plastic bucket and then setting them free, and how fast the incoming tide had moved–so fast my friends and I used to try to race it in. I recalled sunsets seen from our screened in porch, painting the tidal pools pink and orange, and the smell of citronella and the sound of the bug zapper as the armies of mosquitoes dodged into it. Memories of that distant summer fused with the here and now, and time itself seemed to stop. I was still that child, yes–more wounded and damaged, but still essentially intact under my armor born of pain; still curious about everything and still in love with the wonders of the natural world. A child who still possessed the ability to give and receive love. I always wanted to go back to that place; now I’m here instead.

Sandbars off Cape Cod Bay, Brewster, Massachusetts

I had no idea how long I remained out there. It seemed like a very long time. I could have stayed in that heavenly spot all day, but being so fair skinned, I knew I should probably head back to the car before I got too sunburned.

Gone fishing!

Posted on August 24, 2016 by luckyotter

I got up pretty late again today, and while my son slept (he got home from work around 7 AM) I went to Wal-mart and picked up a few things we needed, including bug spray, and then went down to the apartment complex’s pool for about an hour. By the time I returned, my son was up and it was nearing 5:00.

So far, the only damper on this vacation was what my son told me about my mother. On the way to pick up his friend Tal (who got my son into fishing), we talked about her. Seems she’s been attempting to triangulate against me. Fortunately he’s not in any danger of becoming a flying monkey because he doesn’t like her or the way she talks about people, especially me (he’s very protective of his mama, bless him!) But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t try! He said she is very condescending toward him, much like she always was with me. He said she’s negative and judgmental, which is absolutely true. Apparently she had told him she didn’t like the idea of me visiting him (MY OWN SON!) because I would be a “bad influence” (huh, what?) and tried to get him to tell me not to come. She also told him he was making bad life choices (he’s doing very well, in fact and is making great choices that make him happy) and should have become a journalist (he’s a good writer, but he doesn’t enjoy it). She was always on me too about all the bad choices I supposedly made. Now she thinks I’m going to “infect” him with my “loser-ness” or something. She’s also telling everyone I’m still with my ex and that I’m as bad as he is! These are all just lies. Oh, and she asked him if I was still “writing that thing” (referring to my blog). Why would she even need to ask him since she can easily get the answer to that question herself? She stalks my blog. Welp, that’s narcissist “logic” for you.

The wind picks up as the storm clouds move in.

Now I’m convinced she really is malignant. Malignant narcissists like my mother love to keep the scapegoat (me in this case) isolated from the rest of the family, even from their own children if they can get away with it. I felt hurt by the things he told me but he’s on my side and doesn’t want anything to do with her either. It’s also not as if any of this is news–I already knew she badmouths me to everyone who will listen, but hearing about her attempts to keep me from visiting my own son just really bugged me. At that point I told him I’d heard enough and I just wanted to have a good time fishing. He was sympathetic. My son is definitely not a narcissist! As an aside though, he told me he was tested recently for personality disorders and he does in fact have one–Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (not the same as OCD). In fact, he scored very low in both narcissism and antisocial traits.

We picked up Tal, stopped at a bait and tackle shop and picked up some bait. Then headed off to the mangrove park with a fishing area and nice view of the Gulf at the end.

It was rocky, and very buggy, so I was glad we brought the bug spray. I got bit in a few places anyway. It was also cloudy and we could hear thunder in the far distance. Tal’s a weather buff and he said we wouldn’t have to worry about any storms for about 2 hours, so there was plenty of time to fish. He showed me how to bait the line, and how to operate it, and then had me practice casting without bait for awhile. The last time I ever fished was when I was at summer camp in the ’70s and we went deep sea fishing. I caught onto casting pretty quickly, so maybe a part of me remembered how to do it from when I was at camp.

Practicing casting a line.

It was getting darker, not just because night was coming, but also because the storm seemed to be getting pretty close. Tal said it was still about a half hour away. I started throwing some lines with small pieces of shrimp. Once I got my line caught in a tree, and a few times I threw my line too far over to the right, getting it caught with my son’s and Tal’s. I didn’t catch any fish (though I almost caught a small pinfish but he let go). After awhile gave I gave up and decided to sit down ( we had our stuff laid out on a picnic table) and watch them instead. They weren’t catching anything either. A piece of shrimp I’d left on the table from earlier was already covered with ants. it was gross but kind of cool at the same time, so I took a picture of it.

After watching them for awhile, I noticed the sky had turned a fiery red and decided to walk to the end of the park overlooking the Gulf. There I saw the most incredible sunset I think I’ve ever seen. I started taking pictures like a crazy person, before the rain started.

The storm was moving in fast from behind me. When it rains in Florida, it REALLY rains. I shoved my phone back into my purse before it got soaked and ran back to the car as fast as I could get there. There, my son was grinning like a maniac and holding up a fairly big catfish! I got a quick picture of that. I asked him where Tal was and he said he was still fishing. “In this weather?” I asked. “Oh, yeah, he never lets any kind of weather stop him,” my son said.

A few minutes later, Tal came back with a catfish of his own. They both decided to release the fish because these weren’t good for eating, apparently.

Finally the rain died down enough for me to go back and get one last picture of the sunset over the Gulf before dusk fell.

A mural I saw in the hipster part of Port Richey, FL

Posted on August 23, 2016 by luckyotter

Tonight my son, me, and his two housemates all went to a Mexican restaurant in the hipster, arty part of town. The food was excellent. But what was really unforgettable and made me laugh was this mural that was painted on the side of the building. It was in 2 sections.

This is NOT a part of town where the wealthy live, so it was probably meant to be ironic or something.

Rescuing a baby squirrel.

Posted on August 22, 2016 by luckyotter

My son’s partner and roommate is an animal lover and works with abandoned, orphaned, and wounded animals. Today he received a call from a friend who had an emergency situation involving an orphaned baby squirrel. He’s always available on call, so the friend brought the squirrel over.

What happened was the little squirrel had actually come up to the woman, which is very unusual for any wild animal (if it’s an adult, you have to be careful with any sort of unusual behavior because it could mean the animal has rabies). She said the squirrel seemed hungry, and realized it had somehow become separated from its mother but was far too young to take care of itself. The baby seems healthy enough, but needs to be fostered until it can be released back into the wild. Here is a photo I got. The rest were too blurry to post (the baby was moving so much it was hard to get a good photo).

Going with the flow.

Posted on August 22, 2016 by luckyotter

I wanted to get up early and walk on the beach at sunrise, but I guess I was so exhausted from my long drive yesterday and busy evening (also stayed up late blogging about it and chatting with my son) that my body needed extra sleep, and I didn’t get up until about 1 PM!

No worries though. My son has to work all night tonight so he was still asleep too. I quietly ate some cereal and headed out. I decided to go back to Rees Park, where we witnessed the sun set last night. I felt like it was calling me back. This time I had the presence of mind to wear a swimsuit.

The day was hot, very hot–95 degrees and very sunny. I drove to Rees Park and immediately smelled the ocean smell and felt the soothing sea breeze, making it seem cooler. I noticed that unlike last night when we were there, the tide was coming in. There were no sandbars and there were very small waves (really, more like ripples), and a lot less of the beach was visible. Banks of puffy white clouds dotted the horizon against the bright, almost electric blue of the sky.

I took off my sandals and stepped into the water. It was as warm as bathwater! So unlike the ocean water further north, even as far south as Myrtle Beach. Of course, this was the Gulf, a smaller body of water than the Atlantic Ocean, so that probably had a lot to do with the very warm temperature.

I waded out into the water, and when I looked down, I saw small schools of tan colored fish swimming around my feet. I squeezed my toes into the very fine, silt-like sand, an lowered myself into the water. It was like sinking into a bathtub, only so much better.

I closed my eyes and used the rest of my senses to feel nature around me. I felt the ripples gently rocking me, and I just let my body respond to that, rolling over and floating and stretching every part of me that could be stretched. I breathed in the salty air and listened to the seagulls on the shore. I scooped up some of the silt-like sand into my hands, and squeezed the water out of it until the claylike substance squeezed out between my fingers and left a small ball in my hands. I looked at it and could see many tiny shells and fragments of shells studded throughout the ball. It felt so nice in my hands I decided to rub it all over my arms and then lifted my legs out of the water and rubbed some of it on those too.

I looked around me and saw a few other people, also just relaxing and enjoying nature. I had a short conversation with a woman lying in the water nearby, who was visiting her mother. She said this was better than going to a spa, and I agreed.

I just sat there, not caring that the tide was now getting dangerously close to where I’d laid my things. I looked down into the clear greenish water and then looked out where it seemed to stretch out into infinity, becoming dark blue as it receded into the distance. I looked down again and there were those little fish swimming all around me, as if protecting me. I looked back at the beach and gazed at the palm trees and listened to the hissing of their fronds in the gentle breeze. For a rare moment, I was completely in the moment, not worrying about the future or fretting over something in the past. I just was me, just a part of nature. Not my ego or my achievements or my failures or my fear or my anger or my shame. Just me.

I felt the healing energy of the sun, sand and water that cradled me, and realized that this was all God’s doing. It wasn’t the water rocking and comforting me, it was God holding me gently and using the warm water to do that. I never felt like I got that from my family or anyone else I loved, but God has always been there, always ready to hold and comfort me. All I had to do was ask and be open to it. I felt a lump of gratitude form in my throat and thanked him for bringing me to this place. Through grace, I knew I would be healed, that one day my mental disorders would be a thing of the past.

When I got back to the apartment, I found out an answer to an earlier prayer was answered favorably. I think that has everything to do with what I found out on the beach today.

Monday Melody: Old Man (Neil Young)

Posted on August 22, 2016 by luckyotter

I remember “Harvest” was one of the first albums I ever bought with my own money (that wasn’t bubblegum!) and “Old Man” was probably my favorite song from it. It’s timeless.

Gulf of Mexico sunset.

Posted on August 22, 2016 by luckyotter

After eating out at a local and cheap Vietnamese restaurant (I never had Vietnamese food before), we drove out to Reese Park, in Port Richey. The water was at low tide, so there were sandbars and you could walk out onto wet sand where the water had been at high tide earlier. The water was nearly still. The pictures just don’t do the incredible view justice at all. I was amazed by its beauty. I felt so serene and calm there, that it’s hard to believe many of the most violent hurricanes in the western hemisphere get their start right here over this body of water. We are almost at the peak of hurricane season, but according to the weather forecasts, it doesn’t look like anything’s developing out over the Gulf.

After the sun set, we went out to Coldstone Creamery (I had a $10 gift card) and then back to the apartment complex for a lovely evening swim in the pool.

I made it!

Posted on August 21, 2016 by luckyotter

I made it here in one piece after a 10 hour drive!

We’re about to go out to dinner and then sit by the pool later, but the first thing I did when I got here was try on my son’s fursuit heads.

Meet and Greet: 8/20/16

Posted on August 21, 2016 by luckyotter

Little Miracles.

Posted on August 21, 2016 by luckyotter

God keeps sending me all these little gifts and surprises that are becoming proof to me that he listens and cares. I’ve written about a few of these before. A few others are too hard to explain so I haven’t talked about them. Another one happened today, sort of a big one.

Katie from Dreams of a Better World blog and I have been having a lot of discussions (in the comments) about the nature of suffering and what it means. She’s also written some excellent and moving blog posts about it. A whole book could be written about this topic (and maybe has), but here’s the short version of what we both think suffering means.

God doesn’t cause us to suffer or make bad things happen. He isn’t a big bully in the sky. But he allows those things to happen and asks us to trust him when life looks hopeless. He uses those things so we learn to lean on him, and then he will begin to show us in small ways that he is there, and that increases faith.

What happened today seems like a dream, but I think it’s the beginning of a spiritual awakening…maybe. Time will tell. I know I’m changing, and they are all good changes. I don’t think these changes would be happening without God and the reason why things never changed before, was because I wasn’t ready to trust him or lean on him yet. I was still too proud and too suspicious and untrusting and skeptical because of my past. But you need to lean in completely and just let go. But that came later.

You reach a spiritual low that can go no further, in our cases caused by prolonged abuse, and one day we realize we must fight to survive. But we’re so weak and beaten down, how can we fight? But we do. We get angry at first, and rage and pound our fists against the walls and at the sky and maybe at God himself. But soon the angry fires burn themselves out and are replaced with a sort of openness. I can’t explain this openness but it happens after the anger. It’s like you’re empty and waiting. Waiting for what, you don’t know. You’re exhausted.

If you’re a writer, you start to write. Katie and are both write and that’s the tool God has given us to draw us closer to him, and to help us make sense of what happened to us. So we started blogs. For someone else, it might be art or music. Creativity is very close to spirituality, and it is given to us through grace.

That’s when God steps in.

And then everything begins to change.

Getting back to the conversation Katie and I were having in the comments about suffering, I decided to go to Mass today. I never go on Saturday but something told me to go today. The homily was about–

You guessed it. The nature of suffering and how God uses it to humble us and mold us into who he wants us to be.

I couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. I felt my heart open. Wiping away tears, I looked up at Jesus on the cross and whispered thank you.

After a lifetime of not knowing what I was put here for or what I wanted to do, and not being passionate about much of anything, the clouds are finally beginning to clear and some kind of plan is coming together for the rest of my life, and it’s nothing I could have ever dreamed up myself.

Whenever I tried to make choices without God, I always made the wrong ones and was back to where I started or worse. But now, I’m finally starting to see the path that God has laid out for me, because my faith is growing. And it’s the little miracles like what happened today that are helping with that.