Monday, February 2, 2015

All registered up for Camp Widow Tampa...

Welp. I've done it. I requested (and got!) a campership for Camp Widow East in Tampa, Florida, which starts next Thursday--well, technically, next Friday, but people start arriving Thursday. I have registered for workshops. It is starting to feel real.

I almost did this two years ago but it fell through at the last minute because I was scheduled to work a night shift at the hospital the night before I was supposed to drive down (it was in SC then), and I was doing things even more last minute then.

I just have to find a way to get myself down there in time. One way or another. I am terrified of screwing this thing up.
You'd think I'd be happy...but no. There's the PTSD again, screaming "PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!" I'm so tired of it. No wonder I've forgotten how to sleep.

Lord, how I hope this thing works out. I'm dying to go down there and meet my tribe. Finally meet my friends that I've conversed with on blogs and Facebook and generally online for the past five years. I have five years of hugs and tears saved up. Probably other emotions too.
Self-care! In CPE we always talk about self-care. This trip is the ultimate in self-care.
Lord, how I need this thing.

Oh, right. Some background. Camp Widow is the genius brainchild of this nonprofit group*, the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation, designed to help widowed people. There are workshops designed around the needs of specific widowed groups. I signed up for a workshop for unwedded widows (yay! it exists now!), for widows with no children, and one for widows of sudden loss. (There are more but I'm not posting my entire schedule here as of this moment.)
*Said nonprofit group is the genius brainchild of genius Michele Neff Hernandez, founder/dynamo/amazing person.

Tired wired cannot sleep
Glamis hath murdered sleep
Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house.
“Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more.”
But get the memo, sleep:
I ain't Macbeth
Or Lady Macbeth
Gimme some of that
Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.

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