The Flowers in My Hood

Sunday July 10, 2022

Today at the lake…I didn’t go to the lake. I took a walk. My first walk since surgery.

I walked a block and back. Actually, it was two half blocks, but whatever. It was excruciatingly slow because I’m not putting full weight into my leg yet. I plant the walker, then step with left while I lift myself up a bit on the walker. Then right step. Repeat. 

I can’t go too quickly because I actually have to concentrate. At first I was frustrated and angry, really resenting the need for patience. I have been so patient for so many years, and here I am again with another limitation. Then I gave myself a mental betchslap and decided to use my CBT (cognitive behavior therapy) skills. 

Flower Power

Why not take photos of the flowers along the route? A sweet distraction. It worked. I got so wrapped up in trying to capture the flowers that I forgot what a poppy mood I’d been in all day. Instead I crisscrossed the street, snapping as many flowers as I could reach. 

I saw a bun! Then another one. I noticed the various flower parts, the way one plant encroaches on another and grows through its branches. No respect for personal space. I’m not a fan of manicured gardens, and I count weeds in my flower tally because if it has a color and I like looking at it, it’s a flower. 

It’s funny how looking through an iPhone to take flowers helped me see them in a new way. I thought of the Georgia O’Keefe quote, something like, “Nobody sees a flower, really. It takes time to see a flower.” Who am I to begrudge myself a chance for gratitude this sunny afternoon? I was frustrated with my snail’s pace, and just a handful of flowers later I was taking the time to study so many fancy flowers. The colors, shapes, size of petals, entanglements, lifespan. Even some of the past bloom flowers had such interesting patterns. (I don’t want to call them dead since they still had leaves.)

I was also noticing some of the hardware and paint marks on the street. What do they mean? What’s going to happen here? 

Indelible

I walked up to the point where I had a panic attack a couple of years ago when I was on a walk with a friend. The weather had changed in an instant, and a huge clap of thunder had sent me into a complete breakdown. Today I just walked past it. I could note it, remember it, and know that it’s been awhile since I had a bad panic attack. Progress. Maybe it’s weird to remember it because that’s how my brain works. I’ll always know what happened at that spot in the road. I’ll always remember the house there. The pebble-y side of the road. The nice man who drove up and offered us a ride home. It was dumping rain, and I was yelling, sobbing, and clutching my walker like I was hanging on for dear life. My poor friend had no idea what was happening. 

So, yea, that was then. Not gonna happen again, at least not at that spot.

I turned around to go home and snapped a few photos of the crazy guy’s house, barely visible through the overgrowth of trees, bushes, weeds. There have been nights when we (my friend and I) walked past and heard him raging to himself inside. I’m always worried he’ll burst out from the tangle of weeds and shoot us. He’s clearly mad, neglected. His yelling is so violent. No flowers to photograph there. Someone should be looking out for him, moving him into some type of senior housing. Why is he left to suffer alone? 

Focus

It was harder getting home than it was getting out. I wasn’t tired from the activity as I was from concentrating on not tripping. I was using all my discipline to pay attention to my steps, my balance, the ground beneath my feet. I only allowed myself to take photos of flowers I could reach. I wanted to hobble up a few driveways to get closer to some plants, but I kept that in check. Ever since the accident I try so hard to temper my impulsive side. I try to be deliberate, to take my time, to not move without thinking. It’s hard. Exhausting. 

I got back to my place, and started my car. She’s so sad that I’m not driving her. I need to sit and let her run for 10 or 15 minutes, but I just let her run a minute or two. Maybe tomorrow. 

My landlord has lots of flowers, so I snapped all the way from the driveway to my back yard house. The hydrangeas looked amazing. I think they are hard to grow, but my landlord must have the magic touch. It’s like walking through a botanical garden.  His yard always looks incredible. He puts in the hours, for sure.

Now I am home. Tired. Hungry. Wondering if any of my photos turned out. I have shaky hands, so I’m worried that I’m not gonna be able to share the fanciness of my flower walk. It’s so silly that I’m bad at taking photos. The simplest thing.

Giving myself 10 points for using my CBT skills to shift my thinking and my mood today. It wasn’t easy, but it also wasn’t that hard once I committed to it. I need to remember that.