The Art of Disappointment

hand painted silk robes, 1986

When I moved into my current apartment an ecstasy welled up in me because it was bright and clean and mine.

Living here for a few weeks has weaned me away from that initial rush and left me hollow.

I am living essentially in a parking lot..other apartments face mine a scant 30′ away on one side but mine borders the parking lot on two sides just 6′ away from my bedroom window..

I wheel 8 blocks over and through vast concrete swaths of other apartment complex real estate to finally arrive at a tiny patch of green for my dog to relieve herself and me to pause and breathe in the air of life.

Santa Fe is a tri-cultural (Anglo,Hispanic, Native American) city and I am feeling the bubble of ‘anglo-privilege’ I took little notice of when I was a fully functioning part of this community.

I could afford to keep my ‘tribe’ close in and choose to where I was to live.

Since I do not have the luxury of working, my surroundings are crucial to my health and well-being.

The reality remains I am in need of the governmental assistance I receive and am grateful for.

My apartment complex is populated with many, many young Hispanic mothers raising large families of small children alone.

They are tired, angry and spent. Rightly so.

I am a foreigner in their eyes and they are to me as well.

I thought I was noticing racist tendencies in myself as I began curling my energies in toward myself for protection against their steeliness and indifference.

It isn’t racisism after all as I discovered; just a desire for a quality of life with more possibility of connection, feeling of safety should I need their help and the absence of armoring-up.

And so.. as providence would have it- the complex I have always wanted to live in has called and there is a spot for me there at the end of the month. I have been on their wait list 2 years.

I will move once again end of this month.

How will I ever manage to rally once again is anyones’ guess but I am choosing quality-of-life as we never know how much of that precious stuff we will be granted after all is said and done.

I call on my adventurous angels to assist me emotionally, physically and spiritually.

I am still on the road to ‘home.’


4 Responses to “The Art of Disappointment”

  1. Rita Kindl Myers on June 11th, 2013

    I also believe that surroundings improve quality of life. This I know very well for myself. Asphalt and cement and a little patch Green does not nourish the soul.

    Today, I found myself asking “what do I need to do to look after myself”? This includes: positive interactions with fellow beings, a lot of nature and a to a view of trees, as well as a creative outlet. Your blog has inspired me to make sure I do some writing, which is my way of expressing my creativity.

    Thanks again!

  2. Jane on June 12th, 2013

    Dear Cathy (or anyone, or anyone reading this) – I am in the midst of what you might call an agoraphobic stage. My legs are becoming shakier, and I find it difficult to talk to people who are not going through MS. I feel likeI should be doing more things (i.e. acting more “normal”, which means forcing myself. I would appreciate any and all i advice ) – this ia a trap that I built for myself long, long ago. But for now the question is, how can I accept this – truly – without the bitterness, or self-exile, and I would like to figure this out while I still have a friend or 2 left. Thanks, Cathy, for being my voice when I feel like I have none.

  3. Cathy on June 12th, 2013

    THE BIG QUESTION!!!!!! “What to do to look after my Self?”

    I am seemingly in every moment re-choosing from a more true place.. Far away from expectations which are my own projections, after all.

    Thanks for the contact!

  4. Rita Kindl Myers on June 12th, 2013

    Dear Jane (whose legs are becoming shakier):
    I can’t dwell on what isn’t working properly. If I did, I’d become too aware that my left leg has a significant limp, which I know wasn’t as bad one year ago. 6 years ago, I could hold a pen in my right hand and sign my name. Now I print in block letters with left hand. 10 years ago, I could hike with a cane for a few hours. I don’t think of what I am unable to do, nor of how difficult it is to do things. I have to live in the moment and enjoy what I’m able to do now. Today, I will practice some yoga. I will breathe deeply and enjoy it! A mini routine that stretches limbs and my spine and strengthens my legs and arms. And, best of all circulates my blood. I will print a few words and feel pride at the tidy block letters. If I don’t feel like going out, I’ll ask myself if I’m tired and get to bed early. There is no normal. There is only how I am NOW. I hope this helps a bit. I try to treat myself with love & respect.

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