I read a great article tonight about fibromyalgia and it showed me something very important. I am reactive because I am embarrassed and ashamed.

Here’s the article:

Fibromyalgia and complex trauma are connected in so many ways. Do you deal with any of these symptoms?

22 “Embarrassing” Symptoms of Fibro That We Don’t Talk About

I don’t deal with all of these, but I do deal with many of them.

For me the most embarrassing thing (and the thing I get defensive about, and now thanks to this article I realize and accept that it’s because I AM embarrassed) is that I’m “too young” to have ANY of these issues.

People who don’t understand this kind of illness look at me like I’m nuts when I talk about my pain or my exhaustion, and tell them that those things are part of the reason I don’t go out much, but the MAIN reason behind my anxiety is that I don’t want to puke or get a messed up tummy in public.

I don’t make a lot of plans and I really don’t leave the house very much because between CPTSD and these symptoms, my anxiety is constantly through the roof – which leads to regular panic attacks and to depression in itself, in its own way, on top of “regular” depression.

I was recently diagnosed with both Celiac disease and major depressive disorder and put on a whole new cocktail of medication for depression (celiac is only treatable by diet, basically). And as the article says, all the meds have their own symptoms. But it makes me crazy and embarrassed when people say, “you’re not even 40 – you can’t possibly have that many health problems.”

They often have the same reaction – you’re just making excuses. It’s SO embarrassing when they say that it’s just nerves because I’m too young for any of that stuff. And it’s disheartening when they say things like, “you’re just not trying.” Like, you have to be 50+ to be excused of these symptoms.

I fall down every so often because of my joints and I often have a hard time keeping my balance. Sometimes I think people probably think I’m drunk. That’s ok, because that’s how it feels.

I also drop things CONSTANTLY because of sudden weakness in my hands and random shakiness. I have turned into Miss McButterfingers. That’s hugely embarrassing to me – especially when you drop the same thing like 7 times in a row before you finally have a grip on it.

And, the worst thing at home (which causes some tension in my relationship) is that my brain doesn’t work. Literally, if it’s not music I can’t focus and I’ll forget what I’m doing while I’m doing it. Even reading a book takes ages now because my brain can’t comprehend what I’m reading half the time. Homeschooling is SO complicated, even though I have notes and a curriculum to follow with my son.

Even writing blogs and these posts here, I have to read and fix them a few times (and usually still have errors I see and fix later). That’s hard because I love to write. I hardly blog anymore because of it. This post alone took over 45 minutes to write. That’s ok – insomnia means I have nothing better to do at nearly midnight. ((thumbs up!))

It complicates everything. It even effects friendships – but it’s generally me, not them. It effects moods and the way I process and see things…as well as how I react, often…to many things. Those who stick around, well, I don’t know why they do. It really is (and I am) too much for people. So…such is life.

I don’t share this to complain or to simply verbalize my experience. This has been therapeutic. These are real issues and I’m grateful to have read this article with quotes from people who go through the same things.

It doesn’t matter how old you are, how much money you have, what your ethnicity is, where you live, what you look like…having any chronic illness is HARD. It’s good to feel united with others who deal with these issues even if it’s just in an article on the internet.

If you are one of the many, many people who struggle with chronic illness, you are not alone. I see you when you’re invisible, I hear you when you’re silently struggling.

I support you and believe in you.

Lots of love,

C.

Herbs and essential oils are and have been healers and helpers for all of time, for humans and animals alike. I have really bad headaches – sometimes (a lot lately) they turn into migraines and these are not remedies so much as just helpers/soothers during migraines but they REALLY help and sometimes completely relieve my tension or sinus headaches.

I have two things that I use – one with dried herbs and one with oils. For dried herbs I just put one part each of eucalyptus, mint, and lavender into a small sachet bag or tie it up in a thin piece of cloth (cheesecloth works well) to make an herb bag. Then I just put it on my face and sniff it for a bit and try to nap or rest with it near my head.

When it comes to oils, I use the same three herbs. I use 15 drops of peppermint eo, 15 drops of eucalyptus eo, and 11 drops of lavender eo, dropped into 10ml of carrier oil in a (10ml) roller ball bottle. I prefer jojoba for the undertone in scent but also like grapeseed as it is a little thicker and has no scent at all once mixed. The last bit I made, I didn’t have either of those oils so I just used what we all always have on hand – EVOO extra virgin olive oil). To use this I simply roll a bit on my temples and rub it in with my ring fingers, kind of massaging. I often rub it down along the bone of my eye socket or even on my forehead for the cooling. Don’t get it in your eyes, though!!

EVOO is a great deal runnier than other carriers, in my opinion, but it blends well and I do not notice much of an underlying scent at all once its mixed well. Another note: you can use more or less of each eo – I played with this until I found what I liked best and what seems to work the best for me. I like the stronger scent of the eucalyptus and the cooling of the peppermint oil. Some have better luck with 10 drops of those and more of the lavender for relaxing. It’s all your preference. If you’re very sensitive to scents (especially with migraines), you may want to mix some with 10 drops or less of each. Again, personal preferences and what your body desires is what matters.

Neither of these things are a cure all (NOTHING is for migraines, except time, just to be perfectly honest – or so has been my experience), but these old time “remedies” really help to soothe any headache I have and often will help to clear up a tension or bad sinus headache (as the mint/eucalyptus) is so good for helping loosen and drain mucous).

I hope this might help someone out there if needed…just a random little thing I did again recently and wanted to share. Hope you are all well and have no use for these “remedies,” too!

Take care…

C.

Partially rewritten from an old instagram account – the one that used to bear this username, I wanted to take a moment to catch up with you and tell you, in short, I’m doing a 5k in two weeks. 

I know, I know. What!?? My husband has been helping me prepare and is doing it with me, along with our little pup. It’s been a definite lesson in learning to listen to my body. Yesterday I made my best time, averaging just at 15 minutes per mile, which is basically shit for a runner but a miracle for someone pushing through with chronic pain. 

I suffered last night. Today I can hardly move. But this evening, weather permitting, we’ll be out again, pushing that time. Why? Because I WANT to. Neighbors and acquaintances alike are openly calling me crazy and expressing concern for my sanity more than my safety but using my safety as the key words, and I want to combine two things (this older writing rewritten for the now and a piece I wrote last night) and share it with you. Why? Because it helps me to share. 

Walk A Mile in My Shoes

I wrote this a while ago but was afraid to share it because I didn’t want to be seen as a complainer or as weak. This is what the stigma of invisible disease does to people. My friend sent me a challenge to share my truth as I used to – it’s called the #vulnerabilitychallenge. So, I AM going to post this & not be insecure, & know I am not complaining. 

If you have loved ones with CI or chronic pain, be patient with them. They can’t control their bodies & battle with them every day & some days every second. It’s hard to live with pain, especially invisible pain. Try to give them a break. 

Literally hours ago I felt like this black cloud over my head was lifting. I felt…happy. I got excited because the depression was leaving. But what I forgot is that it never leaves. It just rises & falls like the temperature…or the ventilator that kept my dad alive during his coma.

I realized I keep waiting – waiting to get better when I know I never will. I may not necessarily get worse, but never better. That’s what CI means. So I do the best I can…but forgive me when I suddenly crash, or snap at you, or act out of sorts or distant. It’s not just a mood. It’s not just pettiness or whining. Its not selfishness or taking you for granted. It’s fibrolife or a celiac flare. Don’t be angry with me & fuss at me or cuss at me or take it personally. Worse yet, don’t compare me to yourself or others – especially others with CI or depression. 

Instead, just take a moment to try to imagine your skin feeling like it’s on fire. Feeling like your legs are wrapped in barbed wire, and let down because it’s backpain again tonight, first headache in a while, leg cramps, stomach cramps, everything hurts, and it’s stress. My body reacts very bitchily to stress – especially extreme stress, like my preparations for this 5K. 

The day has settled down & now it all catches up with me. Don’t hold it against me if I don’t cope well with stress. But rest assured – I WILL walk on, I WILL keep pushing through, and I DO love you. But I am also upset with certain aspects of how I’ve been approached recently. 

It’s comparison that gets to me. Tonight I was reminded by a film I watched during this painsomnia marathon how my mother has always doubted me and how sensitive I am to rejection, being doubted, being abandoned as the weak or the crazy one…and how that has been feeding my insecurity lately from several different directions. This all in turn reminded me that I am plenty “enough,” and never “not enough” or “too much,” at least not for MYSELF, which is what matters, and I started thinking about how even though I know it will never happen, anyone who doubts me needs to stop judging and assuming and just sit back and watch me succeed despite the challenges I face or my ups and downs. 

Then I wrote this note (blog) that was amazingly well thought out and put together and accidentally deleted it because it posted twice but it was a glitch so when I deleted one it deleted the actual note (and yes I’m pissed). Sigh…

The whole idea was that I no longer believe that our thoughts alone create our experiences, or that life has “terms.” I believe that there is a reaction for every action and that regardless of our thoughts or best intentions sometimes bad shit happens. I don’t believe we can control our lives with our minds alone, and that our hearts and our spirits have just as much to do with it. I believe that our actions and reactions, good and bad, feed on themselves to create our lives, and I also believe (know) that our lives can be effected by the actions and reactions of others but that we ALWAYS have a choice in how we live and face our challenges. 

I don’t believe in living life on life’s terms, I believe in creating my own regardless of what life has to say about it, even if that’s the harder way of dealing with things sometimes, and I’m sick of hearing people tell me lately that I need to accept life’s terms, I need to be careful with my body or I’ll make it worse, I need to just accept that I’m older or that I’m sick and so I can’t do the things I used to. Pffft. I know that they THINK that they have my best interest in mind, but they’re not ME. How can they know what is best for me – especially when they’re only a neighbor or an acquaintance I ran into in the dollar store? They can’t – not even just because they had an experience and found out what was best for them. 

Look… Listen to me hard right now. How many people who get a cancer disganosis say, “ok, I’m terminal. I’ll just die now and not try to fight back?” Some may, I’m sure…but all the people I’ve ever known to get that diagnosis, in real life or friends/acquaintances online? They may already know they’re terminal and they’ll die but they still fight – 99.9% of people I know who have had that diagnosis have not just accepted it as “life on life’s terms.” I even asked Dorie one time, because I used to judge that choice and think, “if I end up like that I’d never choose chemo,” why she made that choice and continued to struggle with it even though it was that that was killing her and not the cancer… Her response? “It’s the only way I know how to fight this.” 

My experience with Dorie and cancer and caregiving and watching her fight…that was the moment that I stopped believing in life’s terms and started believing in the human spirit and in the human heart rather than some stupid idea about how life works the same for all of us. IT DOESN’T. In a general sense, we all live and die. Everything in between? Not exactly the same for any two people. That was a huge lesson and realization for me. I’ve always known we are all different and we all do things differently and for different reasons. But that was my first slap in the face of how stupid it is to compare people or hold them to a standard we might think we have for ourselves but that can change in an instant based on any number of scenarios we may face. 

Fighting my body but learning to listen to it at the same time has reminded me of that. Especially today, after reaching that milestone in my mile time. My hip and my knee – my whole right side from the ribs down, really, is screaming at me. But it’ll pass – and it would have screamed anyway, probably louder, if I hadn’t reached this point. It would all come in waves regardless of any choice I did or didn’t make – because hello…that’s how it works.

Anyway, all of this reminded me about comparison. That was the whole premise of this whole bit of word vomit to begin with. Don’t compare – don’t compare ANYONE but especially not people with mental or chronic or physical illnesses in general. It’s not fair, because we ALL do things and face things and accept things differently and at different times and in different ways and even on differently on different days.  

I get that people may think I’m super crazy or annoying because I deal with life at both ends of the spectrum to an extreme and refuse to just exist or live somewhere in the middle but that’s because I don’t WANT to be or live a mediocre life. And, it’s also because I’ve always been a passionate and very free spirited person and I’ve always had to fight – it’s a learned behavior. I’ve always had to fight – those are hard words for me to “say” out loud, but it’s true and a realization that deeper discussion in therapy has helped me to accept.

I’ve ALWAYS HAD TO FIGHT and it is a LEARNED BEHAVIOR – my mother, my health (yes even as a child – mostly because of allergies and reactions which we now know was related to celiac but especially the time I had chicken pox and then scarlet fever and almost died when I was 7, which is what led to my heart issues as an adult), my depression, and a whole hell of a lot of people in my life as a young person (family, not people just randomly existing in my life, but yes, some of those…) who never accepted me because I was adopted and who always judged and hated me and belittled me because I was different…I was bullied a lot in school when people found out I was adopted – and I still have no idea exactly how that happened; because of how my “family” treated me I NEVER talked about being adopted to anyone. I guess there’s always that “one friend” in middle school… LOL I digress…

Rest assured – I may appear weak at times, especially when depression has me down – depression is the hardest and cruelest battle I face and yes, I face it head on daily and “fail” miserably sometimes in the eyes of others and even myself when I forget that surviving another day is a huge achievement some days, but weak is the farthest thing from reality that I am or that ANYONE with depression is. It’s the farthest thing ANYONE with ANY disease is, physical or mental. So just because someone doesn’t complain or express thoughts about their illness to you and you think, “ohhhh they’ve got their shit together, why don’t I or why doesn’t she or why doesn’t he?” Just don’t. Because they DON’T have their shit together. They’re just dealing with it in a way that makes it look like they do – and if they’re not talking to you about their struggles it’s easy to think they’re not struggling. 

News flash – not everyone talks about their struggles. Some people are very private. Some only express their physical and emotional exhaustion when they’re alone in the shower or in bed at night crying themselves to sleep. Some express it with a scream into a pillow that no one ever hears. Some express it by not expressing it. Silence is a sound, too… I’m not one of those people that is very private, and that doesn’t make me a bad person or a weak person or an ungrateful person or a “not coping well” person… And tonight I’ve been reminded by art imitating life imitating art of how much I HATE to be compared to anyone else and how much I strive not to compare anyone else to myself or to others. 

I don’t want to hear about what you approve of or disapprove of how I have a goal to make it through this 5k coming up with a “broken body,” or about what I should do or what I can’t do or what precautions I should take and so on and so forth. I CAN READ and I have been researching my physical conditions a lot longer than you’ve been thinking about all the ways my legs might not work during a 3.3 mile trail run. Speaking of which, it’s ONLY 3.3 MILES. It’s not the fucking Iron Man. 

What I want is for you, if you’re one of those people, to just sit back and watch what I CAN do, despite my insecurity and fear and pain and my body that screams, “fuck you!” to me every time I begin and end a walk or a jog. I want you to sit back and choke on those words of doubt and judgments, even if you’re only thinking them. Because I will NEVER say them to myself and I don’t want to hear them from anyone else, and I don’t want to be compared to anyone else – especially not anyone else’s imaginary standards for me (which are generally double standards, anyway). Nobody does. 

Tonight I’m laying here with heat on one spot and ice on another, and you know what? I’m relishing in it – I feel strong. I think I’m stronger than the doubters and judges in my life because guess what? I’m doing something besides worrying about what everyone else’s is doing. I’m focused on MY goal and MY current “dream.” And I’m gonna get a T-shirt for this particular experience, whether I come in first or 80th or dead ass last. But what I’m really gaining is a window back into myself. And that is priceless to me, even if it costs me more than I have to pay in the end. 

It’s been a weird several days. Aside from life being life, I am basically at a loss for what I want to share as far as subject matter of images, or how I want to share them – especially on my photography blog and on my social media platform of choice (Instagram). I mean, I don’t like the random. It feels too chaotic. I like things to sort of “match” and to blend and flow. I’m into themes (you can probably decipher that if you look at my Instagram profile as a whole for the past several weeks of posts). It’s got something to do with symbolically maintaining a bit of control of myself and my life.

I feel a lot of panic lately. I feel a lot of panic in general but my death panic is the worst part of it. My death panic is BAD lately. Not just my death panic for myself (I’m not afraid of death, but of leaving my son without a mother), but also my death panic about my mom (who, even though we are…not the best of friends, is my only living relative left), death panic about friends, death panic about my son’s family and him facing grief. It’s like all the loss has caught up with my mind and the CPTSD stuff is not helping.

I’m oversharing again, as I do. This is why I have a blog. Sigh.

I’m trying to think and exist in a positive space. I’m focused a lot on my illness and restoring my physical health (new probiotics in the mail!!). I’m also spending a lot of time planning the food I’ll grow this season and preparing my raised beds and backyard for all those grand ideas. That helps. It’s good to hang out in the outdoors in shorts and tshirt and get dirty and sweat already. I like that a lot. I didn’t think I was ready for winter to end this year. I WAS WRONG. Nope, still not a winter person.

I digress (as usual). Here’s where I was going to begin with:  Sometimes my thoughts feel like they are (almost) literally flying around in my head. It’s like this very demanding, exhausting experience of what feels like mental gymnastics to try to flip and bend, leap and stretch, desperately trying to both understand what all these thoughts mean and how they entertwine, and to somehow make something graceful out of it because otherwise it’s just going to be an extremely tangled and not very asthetically pleasing mess. Nobody likes a tangled, un-asthetically pleasing mess, especially if it is one inside their mind that they have to carry around all day, every day.

Sometimes there are so many thoughts, encompassing such a vast expanse of ideas and issues, that they seem to crash into each other and meld into a fleeting fusion of momentary wonder and I really have no full idea what they have actually become before they disintegrate into the mental exhaustion that envelopes me from trying to sort and understand them. It’s a bit depressing, really. When that happens I feel so…unintelligent, incapable, and silently swallowed. If I can’t express my thoughts – my words – then I am silent, and when I am silent I feel like I can’t breathe.

It’s not a need to express myself and be read or heard, necessarily. It’s just expressing in general, whether it is in a private journal I keep or the notepad on my phone that nobody ever sees, or a blip of an Instablog on Instagram or a full blog post here. It doesn’t matter if anyone sees it (much less understands it). It’s just getting it out. What matters is that I am understanding myself. That’s what this entire blogging/instablogging/online conversation is about for me – that, which is where my writing comes from: the depths of my being; and, it is about hoping someone else finds inspiration or support of some kind as I make my way through my now.

So, when I find myself left in silence, it’s because I am not understanding myself and I can not find or even create the words necessary to do so. In a general sense, that has never bothered me; recently, it has become unacceptable for me. In the last few years this experience has come to create a choas and a discomfort within me. I hate it. But what I have found in the last few years is that in those times the words are not what are important. It’s the feelings – and sometimes there just aren’t any words that are appropriate. Feelings are a language all their own, and I am reconnecting with that, within myself.

It’s especially complicated on the days after nights when I haven’t been able to sleep. It’s a consistent – perhaps chronic – theme for me lately, this not being able to sleep. Not being able to sleep means that a) I have this plethora of constantly running ideas and thoughts and feelings overwhelming me and b) I’m forever exhausted and being exhausted does NOT help me to cope with the mind noise that is always there. I always try to write it away, and for years and years (most of my life) that has worked. It works better than music, better than meditation, better than escaping into a book…writing is what works best for me. So why can’t I write now, when I so desperately need my writing and to break my silence? I don’t know.

What’s changed? What’s happening? Most of my followers/people I actually have gotten to know and have followed ANYWHERE online have long since wandered away from the different sites and forums. So have I. I’m no longer on Facebook, post on deviantART about once every six years, blog about once a month (except for this blog, which I started this year for the precise reason of thinking that a fresh, new slate would open new possibilities for my inspirations and my creative drive), and I am even getting really sparse with my posts on Instagram, which is a complete shock to even me.

I don’t know what changed, really. It’s been a very slow decline for YEARS – after having my son in 2009 I just kind of…fell away from the world in general. I was too busy for anything else. Then, I got myself involved in a whole bunch of exquisitely beautiful crazy that brought me back to my creativity and desire to be expressive (gotta be grateful for having a muse cross your path), but then my dad died in July 2015. At that point, I was foundering… When my best friend Dorie died of cancer in March of last year (March 22, 2016), I just kind of died along with her in a lot of ways.

There’s been SO MUCH DEATH and loss and destruction of me over the years – especially throughout Dorie’s cancer, because of the cancer and because of the things that were going on my life during that time. I am STILL trying to comprehend that period of my life. My creative side has always remained, and always continued to be my sanity, but lately I find myself in a desperate struggle to express it. It’s not even that I fail because I try to force it. I don’t even have the oompf  to do that.

I tried to start over on dA and created a new account and everything, but I never use it. No one really connected to it – no one was really left there that I knew anyway… I have taken up with the Instagram community, and that’s mostly where I share my photos at this point, and has been my hub for about two years now. It’s really easy to share my photos with my mobile devices there, and I rarely touch my computer anymore except to blog. Instagram is convenient. There are also a lot of friends there who help me through the ups and downs of grief, cptsd, anxiety, panic, and my celiac diagnosis… I appreciate them, but I haven’t even been active there for the last week and my activity for the last few months there has been sparse, to say the least. I don’t know what’s going on, really.

I’m not in a creative slump. I just feel like there’s too much whirling around in my head. I can’t sort it. I can’t see any of it clearly enough to do anything useful with it. Dorie used to say,  “You’ve got to step outside the tornado.” It was kind of our little process, together. Step outside of the tornado, and start identifying and picking up the pieces, even as they still fell. That always worked amazingly, because we would help each other through that process. We both understood the process and how it worked so we didn’t even really have to talk to do it. It just happened. Now, she’s not here and I can’t seem to do it on my own. Not effectively or efficiently, anyway. My last post, where I shared about deleting my past, was the most effective way that I could step outside the tornado. I managed that part. But even though the mind noise has become quieter, I don’t know what to do with what I’m observing about myself.

I feel like I’m stuck in this weird, empty limbo. I don’t even know why I’m choosing to share this because I know that the likelihood is that it makes little to no sense. I suppose the point is that I’m grasping for straws and just hoping for something useful and solid to grab onto. I think it’s safe to say that in a very general sense the year 2016 sucked for EVERYONE. I feel like that’s carried over into 2017 with my newest life situation – my mother has begun the fall into dementia and that’s very hard to deal with. Caring for her is the hardest thing I’ve ever done because we don’t even like each other. That cptsd thing I mentioned before is rooted in my childhood with my mother.

It’s all very stressful and emotional and I think the truth is that I’m just exhausted. I’m exhausted from figuring out and dealing with life without my Dad or Dorie here to be my guides. But, we all eventually face that time where “we’re it.” You know what I mean? It’s hard. It’s doable though – we’ve been doing this for thousands and thousands of years, right? The cycles, the whole “life” thing. Life on life’s terms – I cringe to say that phrase but it’s the truth…

Alas, I hope YOU are all doing much better than I feel like I am doing with my life in 2017. I hope 2017 is treating you kindly. I hope you are still feeling inspired and driven and still making art, whether with words or paints or cameras or your hands…whatever medium you’re into. I’m not feeling very present today, so I admittedly have no idea who is doing what, where, or how – especially not those I have lost touch with online or in real life… But I do think of everyone I “know” every so often, and I find myself thinking, “I miss the ‘old days…'”

I will end my “catchup post” here, as my cat’s snoring is taunting me to rest (and my tired muscles, after having worked in the gardens all morning and early afternoon – I’m so unfit since winter, but working on it!). Hope you’re all doing well and having a lovely start to your week! Much love and happy arting…

C.

Deep morning thoughts:

My health isn’t good. Earlier this week I was made aware in a much more realistic way that my body is unhappy. Tests were done. More (very scary ones) have been scheduled. And for a moment I found myself frozen in fear. Utterly terrified. This is how people find out worse news. “Well, we see your problem with this area but whilst scanning for this problem we found these nodules or lesions and we need to further test them.” Then, a week later, “we’re sorry, it’s cancer.” That’s how it happens. Almost every time, that’s how it happens. At least this was true of both my daddy and Dorie. 

My therapist calls it irrational fear. I don’t see what’s irrational about it. First of all, the fear is not of being sick or of dying. It’s of not being able to take care of my son or my mom. These people NEED me. I don’t have time to be sick – no matter how trivial the situation is, no matter how quickly recovery from (possible) surgery might be. I don’t have time! Besides that, rational fear versus irrational fear is simple: a fear is rational if you’ve experienced a bad thing or result, or death has occurred (if fear of death is the issue) with the same or similar situation in the past. I have. Multiple times. HELLO? Same with my fear of driving in the rain. What an idiot, right? No, just a person who has experienced multiple bad things in that situation and has a very valid reason to fear the situation. 

Anyway, none of that is the point. The point is this. Lately, but especially yesterday, I have felt alone. I haven’t been, but it’s how I’ve felt. I’ve felt very distant and disconnected; from friends, from my family, from LIFE – just separate from everything. And then, this morning, it suddenly hit me. I’ve outgrown it. Maybe I’ve outgrown my life. I’ve outgrown it and I feel like I don’t belong anymore. Especially since the election, and living in America, I feel like I don’t belong – more profoundly and painfully than ever before. 

Perhaps it’s just my life in general. I stretch myself transparently thin to meet all the requirements of the roles I have to play and I’m tired. Exhausted. That’s what’s wrong with my health. It’s not that I don’t take good enough care of myself, it’s not that I stress too much or can’t emotionally handle it, it’s not ME AT ALL. Nobody – NOBODY – was ever created with the ability or the expectation of their creator to deal with this much weight on them. We just weren’t. 

Our bodies have limits and no matter how emotionally flexible we are, one can only bend their body so far (or push it so far) before it breaks. In my case, the doctor says I’ve done it to myself by mismanaging my stress. In that case? “Screw you, therapist – what am I paying YOU for! You’ll be receiving my medical bills as they pile up.” Ha! Admittedly stress is a factor but in this case, in a general sense, it’s not about how well I’m handling the stress. It’s just about being literally stretched between homes and people and being exhausted, and having only one of me to go around isn’t likely to change soon since cloning humans has yet to be made legal. 

In the end, there’s no one to blame. It’s just what happens. So, we fix it. People who believe in a Christian God will say that he never gives us more than we can handle. I think that’s BS. I think that’s a crock and a fairy tale that helps some people keep love and hope in their heart when their subconscious knows that otherwise they might fail, so that when they do (like I have), they have someone to blame. And if it helps them, that’s ok. But it doesn’t help me. “It was all part of God’s plan.” Pfft. What plan? To make you miserable? To make your loved ones miserable? To cause suffering in the world? To teach you or someone a lesson? OK. Maybe so… Or MAYBE, just maybe, it’s just the way the cards fell. The way the cookie crumbled. The way it was meant to happen. 

Maybe there doesn’t have to be a reason and it’s time to stop looking for one. Maybe you just feel what you feel, desire what you desire, need what you need, and want what you want, find beauty in what you find beauty in, are hurt by the things hurt you, are too sensitive or not sensitive enough or are too deep or not deep enough (labels often applied to me) because it’s just who you are. 

I’ve outgrown this rampant and cancerous behavior of society in general to constantly blame and not grasp the concept of personal responsibility, or to require an explanation, or to have anything make sense. At a personal level I’ve outgrown this ridiculous need I’ve always had to be accepted and to be a part of something “bigger than me.” By default, we will always be extremely small beings in an extremely large (immeasurable) universe, and that’s the reason I suppose so many of us long to feel like we belong… But I’m beyond it. I do belong – to me, and to the universe. Why are we so afraid to go it alone? Why have I been? I don’t know. I think religion and indoctrination into this idea that “the universe is a scary thing” is the reason. 

Since she died, I’ve outgrown a lot of things but the main thing I’ve outgrown and dropped off at life’s thrift shop is religion. I’ve completely shed my skin. I’ve shed the skin of my past and the skin of my captors – both secular and religious. I’m done with it. I’m me, and I’m ok even when I’m not ok. I have a handful of people around me who have outgrown their own versions of these things, or who are on their way at least, and the rest of it…well, I just don’t have time for it anymore. 

I’m almost literally barely surviving right now. My life is extremely heavy. It has been since she died. I mean, after daddy it was bad enough but then her…and I’ll be damned. You’d think that there would have been relief, and initially there was, but mostly? There wasn’t. It was just a whole other, different burden. At the end she said I’d be just fine and she accused me of being the strong one. In honesty, neither of us was. Nobody is. We are not strong or weak – we are just us. We do what we gotta, somehow. Strength and weakness are just labels we create and then give some sort of modifier to so that we can judge each other and tell ourselves whether we are doing ok or not, when in reality, we’re always ok – even when we’re not, as I’ve said so many times before.

She loved tulips – in fact, I took all these photos of tulips (including the cover photo for this post) to send to her while I was in New Orleans a couple of years ago. Tulips were her favorite. They’ve meant many things to me, especially since she got sick. But now, looking back at these photos, they remind me that, “why?” is not the question I need to ask. The question is simply, “what’s next?”

This’ll be a better blog someday, and maybe then it will make more sense. For now…the ideas and thoughts are just fuel for tears born of exhaustion and expressing them is the quickest and easier way of relieving the pressure on my heart. 

C.