Sunday Brunch
And Bullocks To All That
I’ll be honest. I lost the plot. For two weeks I studied, talked, listened and learned. We (my former death doula and I)opened a treasure chest of therapeutic goodies. We took little trips with the dogs, through the woods and along bright blue lakes. But it was hard to maintain my balance. My life is lived at a level, where questions like “Are you still afraid to die or do you trust your body to heal?” are just as easily asked as “What would you like to have for dinner tonight?” And there is the world… our weird and wonderful world… at war… or on the verge of it.
IN A BIT OF A MOOD
Today I feel restless, ADD-ish, antsy and annoyed. I had wanted to round up the week in Sunday Brunch yesterday, but I couldn’t quite make that happen. I looked at the notes, jotted on my phone. I re-read my essay on “Beyond Forgiveness”. The notes looked too small, the essay too big. Neither of them seem to be going anywhere.
Also, the sun has been out for two consecutive days now and it got me all fluttery with spring jitters, like budding leaves and sudden blooms.
Besides, Stella has an ear infection that needs tending to, my room exploded into utter chaos and I need to file my taxes over 2024. Bullocks to all that then.
AT WAR WITH THE WORLD (OR NOT)
It’s been a bit of a week. Between Stella’s sense of snow (she finally found a tiny patch to play in) and the world going to hell in a hand basket, it became challenging to choose between faith and fatalism. My nervous system is definitely tracking the news along with me. I have to consciously release my fight or flight triggers on a daily basis now. If I could meditate my way to world peace I would not get out of lotus position until that job was done. But alas, I hold no such sway over humanity, nor the cosmos. A collective effort is required though. Let’s not all succumb to doom. Spark a bit of joy wherever en whenever you can (like silly Stella in the snow…)
In terms of flight or flight (freeze and flop have been ruled out), these are two suggestions:
“What do we do?” Malina said.
“Run off into the woods? Become fucking Sarah Connor?”
(Malina is my friend who I reference often. Whichever option it will be, I will gladly take it on with her.)
When I consider a mixture of both I suddenly start having visions of us emulating the infamous “preppers”. Is it time to pay a visit to the army surplus shop? Polish up on my rifle skills? I haven’t held one since I was thirteen and my grandfather gave me one, as a consolation prize for not being allowed to take crossbow lessons. When I won a dart board at the local village fair, I used it for target practice and shot it to smithereens. Anyway…
Why the urge to take up arms? Well, the Tates were airlifted out of Romania and left the country on a private plane.
The orange man thought he could take on Zelensky, which may have been one of the most excessive demonstrations of self delusion I have ever witnessed.
I never thought I could think less of any other person as I do of Trump. That was, until JD Vance opened his mouth. What a twat.
When I later read that Vance may have given the Tate boys way too much pocket money, the word “twat” was quickly swapped for something with a little more oompf. You cocksucker.
Put the Tates tragedy and the Zelensky triumph together and we have JD Vance now as the shining symbol of utterly failed, fraught and toxic masculinity.
Find your sanctuary. I was lucky to visit mine last week when we took the dogs to my hunebed in Exloo
IN THERAPY
I have so enjoyed these past two weeks of immersion into all that I consider helpful and healing. I am slowly but steadily developing my own framework, SILIM, founded on theory, practice, my own life experience and my convictions.
In the Netherlands there are currently over 100.000 people on the waiting list for psychological counselling. If I were to follow the path required to offer relief there within the mainstream GGZ system, it would take me 11 years: 6 years of studying and 5 years of practice. I don’t have the time, and I believe I can offer relief exactly from where I stand now. I have been told that for years, but now I finally see it too.
I am hoping a few of those 100.000 will be willing to take a chance on me working with them, as having to wait over 14 weeks before receiving help is too long.
Then there are the rising numbers of people having to live with cancer or its aftermath (over 900.000 people). I want to work with them too.
HERE I WANT TO REFER TO ANOTHER SUBSTACK WRITER WHO WRITES BEAUTIFULLY ABOUT THE VALUE OF A DEATH DOULA: SALLY C. SUMNER
A FUTURE PERSPECTIVE: STAY POSITIVE
The idea that I am looking ahead is huge and it is not without ambiguity. On the one hand I am excited and I feel the energy. I could easily get down on my knees in gratitude for the space, the perspective. On the other hand I still want to scream.
Scream at the craziness isn’t an option, because the screaming will make the sane look crazy and vice versa. So, no screaming. Use your words instead…
Use humour, use wit, use love, use hope and say and write all that too!
For a little soothing of the soul, I also have this: Helene Neijmeijer. On a Friday afternoon our paths crossed. A meeting to remember. Helene has a voice, and a story. One of incredible resilience. Let her sing you to a better place (she definitely brings out the best in me..)
Sneak preview of my first fiction fiddling. Art by ELISE KLINKERT
ON WRITING
There are many aspects of my house in Valea that I do not miss. But I do desperately miss my outhouse. I tried writing in the toilet here, but being stuck in a tiny tiled cubicle is just not the same as a wood outhouse with a spectacular view.
I need to get back on track. Substacks, memoirs, self help, fiction, aaarrgghhhh.
I have to finish sharing All Day A Good Day here. Then I want to follow up with a second memoir. I am torn between tackling SILIM and pouring it into self-help. Or I will write: Just Another Middle Aged White Woman’s Memoir. Which is only being half-sarcastic…
Then there is the epic fiction. This one gives me the same fluttery belly as spring looming and the newfound therapy/counselling direction. But how to cram it all in?
I am analytically sharp, have very strong associative powers, am creatively blessed but planning ain’t my forte. David Allen HELP!!!
WHAT WE WATCHED
After full days of studying and the occasional excursion we found time to watch TV.
I know I am late to the party, but after watching the first two instalments of the Dune series, I am all in. As the next movie isn’t expected to be released until December 2026, I will read the books. WOW. Warring planets may be an odd choice of escapism, considering the aforementioned shitty state of the world. But well what the hell, why not. It is a level of well founded world building I cannot resist.
I wanted to watch the documentary on Belle Gibson (Apple Cider Vinegar) but for some reason it vanished from Dutch Netflix. I went with it Ends With Us.
I have never read a Colleen Hoover book, but I have always been a fan of Blake Lively. I wanted to like the film, but I didn’t. It could not hold my attention at all (could be down to me being antsy again, or maybe it is just not that good of a movie).
I don’t consider it a complete waste of time. The film took me on two trains of thought:
Blake Lively and Mr. Baldoni and their legal battle. I don’t know what that is all about. But after reading some of the text messages exchanged between Baldoni and a PR person I did get the chills. Apparently they “can bury anyone”. It was the same publicist, I gather, who was hired by Johnny Depp during his trial against Amber Heard. I had always given Depp the benefit of the doubt (mostly because of the other women who were ever seriously involved with him testifying on his behalf). Now I am not so sure.
The one and only time I was (almost) in an abusive relationship. A few years back I was dating a friend of a friend. One night after watching a movie together I went to bed early. I woke up being dragged out of bed by my hair and thrown on the couch. He was enraged for no reason at all. When I took my phone to call a friend, he grabbed it from me. He broke it with his hand, the glass of the screen cutting him. I grabbed a tea towel and threw it at him. Then I ran. I ran through the streets of Amsterdam in the middle of the night, barefoot and in my underwear. He tried to get me back by begging. Then he tried manipulating by lying and saying that I had to go to the police with him, because of a car accident we had (it turned out that they never requested my presence; when I found out I told them to keep an eye on him. I did not file official charges, only a “mention”). When that didn’t work he tried to bribe me with a very well paid freelance job. When that also failed his last resort was to have our mutual friend plead on his behalf. That is when I discovered he had a history of violence, which I had not been told about because a) that would not be fair to him and b) because my “friend” thought I “would be able to handle him”. I cut both from my life.
I lost interest in the movie halfway through and wandered off, relationships and domestic violence still on my mind.
I then started watching “Totally and completely fine” about a young woman who inherits a house on a cliff, where she spends her time talking suicidal people off the ledge. Leave “It Ends With Us” and watch that instead.
Have a wonderful week, don’t doom scroll yourself into oblivion, find your bliss instead (at least a bit). I am off outside in the sun to catch some freckles….
XXL