And then the grief comes. And then the smashing into the glass side of the jar comes. And then the understanding that the body needs to be protected comes with the churning frustrations.

The Okanagan summer is unfolding like it has for the last couple of years. Flakes of cancer causing burned trees were landing on my deck last night. The temperature has gone up to 35 to 38 degrees for days on end. And the relentless cleaning, laundry, greeting and waving adieu to people is sending me into a pattern of lower energy. I am trapped by my debt, I say to myself. I am prisoner to a seven day a week job. My low blood pressure leaves me feeling as if I am dragging around dead oxen draped over my shoulders like a mistaken fox stole.

And my practice is being used to inflict yet more sadness upon myself. “You should be….,” I say.

My right eye suddenly became so blurred I could not see out of it. The eye doctor after using five machines and two kinds of drops declared it an “occural incident.”

I have run out of gas; no longer driving on paved road; in the weeds; at my limit. And as is my way, The Overseer is lashing my back. “You have not worked out.”

And so I attempted to move through my list and download new software on my second computer. After four hours of different servings of failure from the possibility menu… I felt bereft. The urge to cry was there but I had the mother voice telling the Overseer that it was stress and now was not a good time. Let it go for now.

I put on the bionic air filter next to my bed, turned on both small air conditioners upstairs and soaked my foot. It isn’t strange at all that after four months of going barefoot on the lawn with joy, yesterday I impaled my arch on a lethal stem of lavender.

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Turning to Netflix which is my teddy bear soothing ritual, I watched Ricky Gervais evicerate various people. It was calming. Watching someone else spew out the anger I hold inside myself is quite validating to me.

I know somehow I will solve the growing list of technical dark caves I have walked into. I know somehow I will learn to operate these systems. But yesterday… yesterday I had the urge to shave my head, tear off my clothes and go into a forest with a wooden bowl and a roughly constructed fork and just forage.

The victories were not greeting with fanfare. I didn’t cry myself to sleep. I didn’t eat a bag of cookies. I didn’t buy some outrageous piece of clothing I will never wear and I didn’t work frantically to prove to myself that everything was in my control.

Slowly, slowly, I am learning. Gay Hendricks calls these times of mysterious failures as reaching the upper limit. My airbnb is in the top ten in Kelowna. I am fit and strong. My friendships are blossoming. My blog has gone past the 70 thousand subscribers mark. And my gigantic debt for buying my freedom from a poisonous relationship is whittled down to under the cost of a car now.

It is an upper limit problem and I am practicing patience. The heat does not help me. Pollutants in the air do not create a supportive environment. Waiting it out is the wise decision at this point. And as always, trusting that I am growing even when it feels like I have just been failing. Increments, baby. I say to myself in my loving mother’s voice. Step at a time.

Being human is never a rose garden. Or maybe it is and it just needs judicious tending. Watch out for the thorns.