I’ve just spent a few days at my house in Truckee, California. I rearranged the linen closet, the games and puzzles, and walked the trail from our house to the Truckee River Winery and Bocce Ball courts with my neighbors of ten years, but mostly I worked, and grounded myself in happy memories, and the love that was shared there.
When my husband died last summer, I could see the appeal of the victim mentality. I was a victim of circumstances, no doubt, but I refused to let it define me. Instead, I decided to allow it to strengthen me. I listened politely as friends said, you have to sell your Tahoe house, and be realistic. For the record, I will never sell my Tahoe house. Ever.
I’m not someone who allows myself to be a victim, even when bad things happen to me, I realize they are pushing me toward something I am more suited for. When my first wedding engagement ended, and I found myself in San Francisco walking down Market Street on my way to work, and spending my weekends in Sausalito, or Napa or Tahoe, I accepted these changes with equanimity. They had very apparent gifts and benefits.
At the moment, I alternate between suffering, and the tenable hope that faith and fortitude, are the catalysts of all good things.
Love and blessings to all.