One of elizabeth's suggestions brings up a practice that I have found helpful. Like her, I get great relief from observing the natural world. So what I do is to force myself to focus intensely on it for a few minutes every day, to the exclusion of anything else. (You don’t actually have to go outside to do this but it helps.) I put aside a few minutes to observe and record some details of things in the outdoors. This can be the time of sunrise or sunset, the changes in temperature or precipitation, depth and length of shadows, the color of the bark on trees, a record of what plants are blooming or dormant, the feel of the wind, the berries on a tree, the texture of the snow, the way the air feels - anything that reflects natural life, whether pleasing or not. I do not include my opinions or feelings - I just describe these things as precisely as I can, but without using technical terms.

The reason for doing this is to concentrate my attention on natural things to the exclusion of anything else. This forces the negativity of everyday concerns out of my perception and gives me a break from thinking about the things that are troubling me.

I think of this as my Anti-Journal because it is the opposite of what most people describe when they talk about their journals. There is no place in it for my everyday concerns, my joys or sorrows, my feelings about my spouse or his disease, or anything else like that. The purpose is NOT to explore my feelings but to liberate myself from them. When I described this before, someone called it a “gratitude journal” but it most definitely not that. There is no gratitude or other emotion attached to it. Just neutral observation.

This would not work for people who do not find relief in the natural world or who are more refreshed by being in artificial environments (like a mall or a casino). But for someone like me, who shrivels up if there is no window nearby, it helps.

I too love this myrtle and am going to add it to my coping strategies. I also really love nature and it is my salvation.

A strong theme I am picking from your post and the thread Elizabeth started is engaging in things that still our mind is a great strategy. To add to your observation of nature myrtle, on my daily walks I recently started spending time viewing in a new way what I am used to seeing and experiencing.

Usually my mind when I walk is busy with endless thinking. Now daily, I pause, take a few deep breaths, and then look at what is around me with fresh eyes. I also try and use all my senses, for example, what am I feeling right now on my hands and face, what am I smelling, how does the air feel going into my nostrils, what (if any) are the tastes in my mouth, what am I hearing?

Instead of just looking at a bunch of trees, I pay attention to the various shades of green, and colors of bark. I take note of shapes and the delight in seeing birds. I pay more attention to the birds.

For me, I find this a welcome reprieve.

I agree with Elizabeth that you nailed it with this line, "The purpose is not to explore my feelings but to liberate myself from them."

Thank you.

Just posting to keep this thread up toward the top. And Kathering and Bev, that is Myrtle's line, not mine. : D

I'm debating returning to some journal writing, with the goal of liberating myself from my moping and negativity, and to help document, as Wolf mentioned on the Lodge thread, the attempt to "build the past I want to remember."

I just pulled out the three pretty little journals that date (intermittently) from 1982 to 2007. They are mostly stupid, but in 1999 I started a gratitude journal that was short-lived and mostly a waste of time, but blessedly, the entries I forgot that I put in there about Larry are just bringing such smiles now. I'll post some samples.

May 22, 1999: A sip of Larry's single malt scotch, and the smell of his pipe."

Jan. 1, 2000: ...a magical, mysterious, mystical New Year's Eve home alone with Larry and the television; with a smile and a tear at midnight; with a kiss and a glass of champagne. Hooray, 2000! (I am Very happy.)

July 2, 2000: A turquoise swimming pool, a gorgeous perennial border, a tall, ice-cold gin and tonic on the screened porch. Larry.

Feb. 10, 2002: Going to Mass with Larry. A quiet Sunday at home with Larry, sitting by the fire reading the Times, having a good chicken dinner on the good china in the candlelight.

And back to July 4, 1999: A hug and a kiss with Larry.

Well, elizabeth’s post stirred my curiously about what was in the old mismatched notebooks on my shelves. What I found was that during a 16-year period (1993 to 2008), I made notes for 11 of those years. Most of the notes start in May or April, are heaviest during the summer, and stop in the fall. None of the entries deal with my feelings and most are quite boring, which is to be expected since the purpose was not to make a record for further reading but instead to force me to concentrate on something outside of and apart from myself.

I decided that each month I will post some sample entries for that month here. The only entries I made for December were in 2003. Here are some excerpts:

12/4/2003
Snow is predicted so we brought in all the hoses and pots and furniture that were still out. The ground is already frozen. To move the bench, Paul had to use a metal bar to dig the legs out of the earth. I had dumped the small stones [our neighbors] gave us on the front walk so we had to move them before the snow came. I cut landscape cloth and laid it between the yew hedge and the house and Paul shoveled the stones onto the cloth. After we finished, we took the cats out on their leashes but they got scared by the noise of the neighbors who were getting ready for the snow. It’s getting dark and snowing now - a coastal storm coming up from the South. Paul went back out to put some storm windows on the small basement windows.

12/6/2003
We are in the midst of a nor’easter. Snow is coating the windows. The cats were awake most of the night, looking out the bedroom window at the snow blowing around in front of the street light. No cars have driven by - only snow plows.

12/7/2003
We got about 16 inches. Carl plowed us out. Sunny but cold.

12/14/2003.
Another storm came yesterday and today. Wet, heavy snow. Norman [a neighbor] had a heart attack and died shoveling his driveway. Rose is in shock.

12/31/2003
It warmed up last week, with days in the high 40s. The melting snow and rain on top of that formed a smooth crust that looks like a skating rink.

I spent the morning with my sister-in-law's husband, so she could go to her weekly Tai Chi class at their Senior Center. Two weeks ago, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer (a complete surprise - the doctors thought he had a bowel obstruction caused by adhesions) and was sent home with hospice care. He is no longer able to eat so I guess he does not have too long to live. I wanted to help them out and I was fine sitting and visiting with him but I realize now that the whole deathbed scene was too much for me on top of the surreal aspect of our own situation. I'm thinking of starting up my anti-journal again, to force myself to focus on something other than sickness and death, gloom and doom.

marg78*, I'm afraid you're attributing honorable motives to me that I don't deserve. I went over there for my sister-in-law's sake. (She is my husband's younger sister.) Based on my experience caring for my husband when he was at home, I know that she is trapped. Even though her husband does not need constant care, she doesn't want to leave him alone. (What if he got frightened or tipped over his water cup or something?) I even had to pick up some juices at the grocery store for him because my sister-in-law cannot get out to buy these basics. (Sound familiar?) A few friends and some medical people from hospice come in but not on a schedule that allows her to leave to do her own thing for an hour. I'll schedule another visit this weekend when it's convenient for her. Dark days. Time to take a break and concentrate on something beautiful, whether it's nature or something else.