If you meet someone who appears completely well adjusted they are either repressed or false... somewhere, in some way, we are all screwed up. I used to think I was pretty well adjusted but the older, and more self aware, I have become the more I realize that I was just glossing over my eccentricities, phobias, and sensitivities. I'm nearly a basket case if you really catalog my oddities! But so is everyone else!
I am frightened of flying things - can't handle them being too close to me - is this because of my brother's 47 budgerigars (parakeets) that used to fly free through our rumpus room?
I have some level of separation anxiety, ok quite a high level... is this because my dad left when I was nearly 6? I suffered horrific homesickness as a kid - Dad said it was because I was too close to my mother - but I had an overwhelming fear of something terrible happening when I wasn't there - maybe I was just an incurable sticky beak or maybe it was a control issue?
I'm thingy about my things. Mum used to call me "Black Jed" and said "Nothing comes between Black Jed and what's hissun." -- I have no idea where she got that saying, although knowing mum I would say it was a line from some old movie. I even googled it without result. Interestingly I have spent the last 13 years getting rid of stuff - my possessions have been broken, stolen, lost, abandoned, withheld, auctioned, destroyed, sold, given away, and sued for... I suspect short of blasting my possessions into orbit with a satellite or vapourizing them I have covered pretty much all potential aspects of dispersal. I flew home from the states with 6 suitcases, drove to my new tropical home with a sedan full of stuff, and aside from a few things that are still stored somewhere at my brother's place, that's it. Sometimes I just need to get used to things, like getting used to TLOML taking off in my car and calling it "our car". This, by the way, is fine with me, but I do know that I have an emotional response which I need to manage intellectually. I hope that people can be forgiving of that moment of non-generosity that happens before I get my emotions under control. It is just a touch of Gollumitis "mine mine my precious". In other ways I am incredibly generous, for example with my time, labour and expertise... I will help pretty much anyone to do pretty much anything with no expectation of repayment or return. But stuff... stuff is an issue... Actually I became quite philosophical about this after several years of repeated losses... for example just recently I bought my 6th cordless drill having had the other five taken from me in one way or another over the last ten years. I have taken a zen approach in deciding that this is clearly part of my life lesson... In the words of Deepak Chopra "Let it go".
I can't stop listing my problems without talking about crowds, queues, and social anxiety... I can get quite close to a panic attack in a crowd or when trapped in a queue. This has become worse since I have had FMS - I should say since FMS started to really impact on my existence because I think I have always had it probably - but now the panic to get out of the queue is exacerbated by the pain of standing and the desperate need to get off my feet. I'm a very socially successful person, I can talk to pretty much anyone about anything and yet I am quite freaked out by strangers and groups of people. One on one I am fine in a group I can't have my first few drinks fast enough to make these situations tolerable.
I'm not about to list other people's issues but I do know that no matter how smooth and unencumbered with complexes people appear they have got some areas of weirdness. I think we are all twisted, it is part of the human condition, part of the wonderful diversity that makes us all individual!
Showing posts with label belonging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label belonging. Show all posts
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Roman blinds, a busy week and avoidant behaviour...
I guess writing this blog is part of my avoidant behaviour... I'm hiding from the readings I should be doing for my university course... If it weren't for the last minute I would never get anything done!
We have had a really busy week! I needed some recovery time after the weekend spent at university and I took a little on Monday before swinging into action and cooking the 'Aromadorable Gunk' (thank you Carinthia!) in an enormous quantity. Tuesday was to be my introduction to TLOML's "extended, blended, family diner". So on Monday I cooked the sauce and that evening TLOML and I worked our way through my mum's "no fail Pavlova recipe" because TLOML's younger son turned 15 on Tuesday and he had requested a Pavlova for dessert instead of a cake!
The last time (the only time) I made a Pavlova was with mum coaching me through it in the kitchen of my duplex in St Paul Minnesota on the eve of my 44th birthday (2006). Anyone who reads my blog with any frequency will know how often I talk about my mum and what a huge part she plays in my life even now when she has been gone for three and a half years. So it was a lovely and bittersweet occasion to be making the Pav here in my new environment. I was more than a little sad that The Boy (my son) was not here to share the evening (and the Pav) too. I am missing him horribly.
The extended blended family is a very special group who are linked by shared children... it might best be described by an equation, which would necessitate an understanding of maths (which I do not possess) - but I will try...
TLOML and her ex (P) are the parents of the birthday boy (B)
P is now with D and she has two sons (T & F)
T & F's father, A, is now with M and they have two daughters (b & a)
This group generally gathers for "family dinner" to celebrate anyone's birthday or for other special events and on Tuesday night we hosted the entire clan (which now, including me, totals 11). We had a lovely night, the Aromadorable Gunk went over well and the Pavlova was gobbled up quickly. P and D hung out for a while later in the evening after A & M had to get the little girls home to bed. It was really good having a chance to get to know them better. I have some of social anxiety and P had been gently inclusive throughout the evening, especially noting that it was my first "family dinner" and I was grateful for his efforts though I still found the bigger group a bit overwhelming. The after dinner cuppa with P & D was more my style and I was much more relaxed. They both have really nice energy and it was great to let the anxiety go. It's a real credit to ALL of these people that they have such good relationships with their ex's and that the lives of the kids can include this bigger circle of love and support. If it takes a village to raise a child then this group is getting it right. On a personal note P said to me, (in front of TLOML) "I'm just glad you are making her happy" and I think it is the second time he has expressed that sentiment to me. It's wonderful to be with someone who has such a caring and civilized relationship with their ex.
Wednesday saw us gathering with the extended, blended family and a host of their other friends for the Syrian dinner which went really well. I did adjourn to the couch earlier than most but managed to handle the cushion on the floor while we ate. I lost much of yesterday to anti-histamine induced sleep following more itchy and scratchy and here I am today casually writing a blog!
I have been working up to a Roman blind repair project. I have investigated the mechanisms, purchased the cord, bought new split rings to replace the really cruddy ones that are on the blinds and made inquiries about getting a hot glue gun so that I can shorten them. This project is providing a nice distraction from the pile of readings I should be doing for my current course at Uni. Unfortunately I think the pulley mechanism at the end of the blind is dead so I might need to figure out how to replace that or jerry-rig up some kind of replacement. I will walk around this problem for a while longer before actually tackling it. There are (at least) three of them here that need repair. (An excellent avoidance technique.)
Almost every day, while she is at work, I send TLOML a text in which I tell her "I adore you" in a different language, today was Latin (Ego adorabunt te), though I have done languages from Afrikaans to Welsh. It's part of my job description as Officer in Charge of Adoration. TLOML finishes work early this afternoon... I think we should have lunch out and then maybe hit one of the waterfalls on the creek... Whatever we do will be fine though. We both seem to be pretty happy as long as we are reasonably close and not apart for too long. TLOML says she feels so safe with me that she can be a brat, she is too! But it just makes me smile. We are relaxed with each other in the way of couples who have been together for a long time. This has to be the lowest anxiety relationship I have ever been in! With no fights or arguments we have weathered an externally generated problem undamaged and perhaps even more closely bonded. Less than 4 months ago my life was very dark and I couldn't see much in the way of a positive future. My how things can change!
See? I have managed to absorb an hour and a half without picking up a text book!
We have had a really busy week! I needed some recovery time after the weekend spent at university and I took a little on Monday before swinging into action and cooking the 'Aromadorable Gunk' (thank you Carinthia!) in an enormous quantity. Tuesday was to be my introduction to TLOML's "extended, blended, family diner". So on Monday I cooked the sauce and that evening TLOML and I worked our way through my mum's "no fail Pavlova recipe" because TLOML's younger son turned 15 on Tuesday and he had requested a Pavlova for dessert instead of a cake!
The last time (the only time) I made a Pavlova was with mum coaching me through it in the kitchen of my duplex in St Paul Minnesota on the eve of my 44th birthday (2006). Anyone who reads my blog with any frequency will know how often I talk about my mum and what a huge part she plays in my life even now when she has been gone for three and a half years. So it was a lovely and bittersweet occasion to be making the Pav here in my new environment. I was more than a little sad that The Boy (my son) was not here to share the evening (and the Pav) too. I am missing him horribly.
The extended blended family is a very special group who are linked by shared children... it might best be described by an equation, which would necessitate an understanding of maths (which I do not possess) - but I will try...
TLOML and her ex (P) are the parents of the birthday boy (B)
P is now with D and she has two sons (T & F)
T & F's father, A, is now with M and they have two daughters (b & a)
This group generally gathers for "family dinner" to celebrate anyone's birthday or for other special events and on Tuesday night we hosted the entire clan (which now, including me, totals 11). We had a lovely night, the Aromadorable Gunk went over well and the Pavlova was gobbled up quickly. P and D hung out for a while later in the evening after A & M had to get the little girls home to bed. It was really good having a chance to get to know them better. I have some of social anxiety and P had been gently inclusive throughout the evening, especially noting that it was my first "family dinner" and I was grateful for his efforts though I still found the bigger group a bit overwhelming. The after dinner cuppa with P & D was more my style and I was much more relaxed. They both have really nice energy and it was great to let the anxiety go. It's a real credit to ALL of these people that they have such good relationships with their ex's and that the lives of the kids can include this bigger circle of love and support. If it takes a village to raise a child then this group is getting it right. On a personal note P said to me, (in front of TLOML) "I'm just glad you are making her happy" and I think it is the second time he has expressed that sentiment to me. It's wonderful to be with someone who has such a caring and civilized relationship with their ex.
Wednesday saw us gathering with the extended, blended family and a host of their other friends for the Syrian dinner which went really well. I did adjourn to the couch earlier than most but managed to handle the cushion on the floor while we ate. I lost much of yesterday to anti-histamine induced sleep following more itchy and scratchy and here I am today casually writing a blog!
I have been working up to a Roman blind repair project. I have investigated the mechanisms, purchased the cord, bought new split rings to replace the really cruddy ones that are on the blinds and made inquiries about getting a hot glue gun so that I can shorten them. This project is providing a nice distraction from the pile of readings I should be doing for my current course at Uni. Unfortunately I think the pulley mechanism at the end of the blind is dead so I might need to figure out how to replace that or jerry-rig up some kind of replacement. I will walk around this problem for a while longer before actually tackling it. There are (at least) three of them here that need repair. (An excellent avoidance technique.)
Almost every day, while she is at work, I send TLOML a text in which I tell her "I adore you" in a different language, today was Latin (Ego adorabunt te), though I have done languages from Afrikaans to Welsh. It's part of my job description as Officer in Charge of Adoration. TLOML finishes work early this afternoon... I think we should have lunch out and then maybe hit one of the waterfalls on the creek... Whatever we do will be fine though. We both seem to be pretty happy as long as we are reasonably close and not apart for too long. TLOML says she feels so safe with me that she can be a brat, she is too! But it just makes me smile. We are relaxed with each other in the way of couples who have been together for a long time. This has to be the lowest anxiety relationship I have ever been in! With no fights or arguments we have weathered an externally generated problem undamaged and perhaps even more closely bonded. Less than 4 months ago my life was very dark and I couldn't see much in the way of a positive future. My how things can change!
See? I have managed to absorb an hour and a half without picking up a text book!
Wednesday, 18 January 2012
Constant amazement and the super road trip
TLOML and I just sat down to watch some TV this evening and by complete happenstance stumbled across an interview with The Chef, with whom we went to school. I was in school with her from years 9 - 12 and TLOML was with her from Kindergarten to 8 and then 11 to 12 (the final two years of school saw us all at the same school). We, the two Displaceds, were stunned to see The Chef on TV as neither of us had ever seen her on TV before but more to the point we wondered what she would think if she could see the two of us, laying back on the couch in our underwear, holding hands, and watching TV. I think it would be a reasonably safe bet that we are the only two women named Displaced that The Chef has ever met. I wrote about The Chef once before in a blog I called "Thoughts on vulnerability". I don't suppose any of this is all that interesting aside from the fact that I am so constantly (literally) amazed by the turn my life has taken. Suddenly I have been transformed from someone on a long run of misfortune to The Luckiest Woman In The World!
The week in Sydney was very hectic, TLOML and I had to debate a little and juggle the competing priorities of each of our friends and families. On top of those moments of friction (that were all handled amicably and with ease) my body was freaking out a bit and was giving me a few very painful days. Last Friday, the 13th LOL, I had my last appointment with Dr McLovely and aside from filling up with petrol she was our last stop in Sydney. TLOML and I began our journey north. She had said so many times "I hate long car rides!", "I need to stop AT LEAST every two hours". I just shook my head because I not only LOVE long road trips but I am very goal focused so I push on and delay stops as long as possible. She had told me that she liked to relax in the morning and then head off after a leisurely layabout morning... I had told her that I need to get the work of driving done before I will relax and do anything "leisurely". It all looked quite foreboding! We had five days to travel 2400km. It seemed almost a certainty that this journey would be the cause of our first fight.
The first night was spent with my brother and his partner and that took us only about 450km out of Sydney. The plan was to try to get up the coast in the morning so that we would have time for a swim in the surf before going to my brother's. There are few places in the world with beaches more beautiful than the Mid North Coast of NSW. Seemingly endless tracts of white sand and the glorious South Pacific sending in wave after wave makes it a very appealing place to anyone who enjoys body-surfing. Everything went pretty much according to plan with one rest room stop en route and plenty of snacks that were cleverly packed by TLOML. By mid afternoon we were swimming alone on a beautiful beach. TLOML is particularly keen to swim where there are waves because her tropical island home is inside the Great Barrier Reef and is therefore inadequate in the wave department. I love the surf and always have but I can't really trust myself any more. I used to be a very strong swimmer but I have to dial it way back now and make sure that I pace myself. The last thing I need is a big exercise induced flare while I am trying to drive up the coast! The night with my brother was great. We had a delicious dinner with super tender steak and vegetables. Time slipped away far too quickly.
I woke early in the morning and found a few extra corners of space in Shermie (my car) to jam in some of my old tools that my brother's partner had been minding for me (for 12 years LOL). I will be needing them if I am going to make myself useful around the place here. We headed off in fairly good time. The second night was also planned. We needed to travel about another 450km to The Gold Coast where we were staying with TLOML's step-mother for the evening. TLOML was pretty keen to get another swim and we were shooting for a stop at Byron Bay. Unbeknownst to either of us Byron has been bypassed by the highway and I completely missed the turn off. It was such an unobtrusive sign! I was sure there would be another exit but after about 10 minutes still heading north it became apparent that there wasn't one! Oh well Brunswick Heads would have to do. TLOML pouted a little about missing Byron but we were in agreement that going back was too much of an inconvenience so she picked up the lip and we made for the gorgeous surf beach at Brunswick. We had a lovely swim, the waves were a little too choppy for body surfing but it was still refreshing and invigorating. We arrived in Surfer's Paradise with time to spare. We had a terrific evening with TLOML's step-mum, including beautiful accommodation on the 37th floor AND dinner at a seafood buffet where I managed to consume about 100 oysters. (I know I sound like a terrible piggy but there was a challenge involved!!!)
The third day we were planning to have an early swim in the surf and be on the road by 10am. TLOML was having such a nice time with her step-mum that we decided to skip the swim and leave a bit later. Still not a single cross word between us! Step-mum (who is lovely!!!) made us the most beautiful gourmet sandwiches for the road - smoked salmon, ricotta cheese, multi-grain bread, avocado - absolutely scrumptious! We had vaguely planned to head to the most northern surf beach in Queensland but unfortunately on this day we hit quite a lot of rain. I was not making great time but skipping the swim allowed us to reach Rockhampton for the night. This night was spent in a strange motel. My Minnesotan friends would call it "different". For a start the woman at the desk seemed so incredibly depressed that she looked like something from 'Night of the Living Dead'. The entire outside of the motel was tiled in big pseudo travertine tiles. When we managed to get inside the room we found that everything but the ceiling was tiled too!!! There was a single bedside table with the name of the motel written on the top AND on the drawers in permanent marker, the jug and the bar fridge were similarly labeled. Still the sheets were clean, TV worked and we were together!
Day four was trying because of some quite heavy rain and the almost complete lack of overtaking lanes on the two lane "highway". The day before had featured occasional signs saying "overtaking lane in 5 km" presumably to prevent us taking big risks overtaking but on day four no such signs appeared. I guess one saying "overtaking lane in 347 km" might not have been as effective. We actually could have made our destination on day four with just a little more endurance but we decided to stop about an hour south. We stayed in a nice motel and ordered food from the restaurant, none of the furniture or appliances were labeled with the motel's name so this motel appeared to have a higher standard of clientele.
Right on schedule we arrived in the morning on Day Five and were home by early afternoon. We even unloaded the car, though doing that nearly finished me off. I gratefully collapsed and was lovingly cared for by TLOML.
So here we are. Still not a single argument nor a cross word. Every decision has been reached by consensus. It's almost freaky how well we relate and how easily we get along. We are both quite emotional and sensitive women yet we seem to be able to help each other get through and over things more easily. It occurred to me that we defuse each other. Somehow we give or say the right thing at the right time. It is almost like between us we have a self-leveling mechanism that settles and resolves the issues that each of us has sometimes struggled with alone. It feels like we have always been together in the way that we manage to interact with virtually no anxiety. I can truly say that I have never had any relationship, in any capacity, even in work or in friendship, that was so harmonious. She is slender and beautiful with sparkling blue eyes that make me melt from any distance and I am completely, head over heels, besotted with her. I'm my own flawed and dilapidated self and yet she loves me, I mean, she really loves me and constantly demonstrates it with care and affection. Between us there is an easy flow of loving words and acts that completely back up and support the words. Doing not just saying. I am quite sure that we should be handing out nausea pills to anyone who has to spend time with us together.
We sometimes wonder what might have happened if a fortune teller had shown us a picture of this time and place when we were schoolgirls together 32 years ago. We both think we would have said "Why wait?" The interesting thing is that the answer to the question "Why wait?" was only revealed by the waiting. We have each learned some hard lessons and seen some dark days; enough to know that something as beautiful as this needs to be cherished and protected; enough to know that, as perfect as it feels right now, there will be obstacles and difficulties we need to face together as time moves on; enough to know just how much we should appreciate each other - we know how lucky we are.
So what would The Chef think?
I hope she would be happy for us both!
The week in Sydney was very hectic, TLOML and I had to debate a little and juggle the competing priorities of each of our friends and families. On top of those moments of friction (that were all handled amicably and with ease) my body was freaking out a bit and was giving me a few very painful days. Last Friday, the 13th LOL, I had my last appointment with Dr McLovely and aside from filling up with petrol she was our last stop in Sydney. TLOML and I began our journey north. She had said so many times "I hate long car rides!", "I need to stop AT LEAST every two hours". I just shook my head because I not only LOVE long road trips but I am very goal focused so I push on and delay stops as long as possible. She had told me that she liked to relax in the morning and then head off after a leisurely layabout morning... I had told her that I need to get the work of driving done before I will relax and do anything "leisurely". It all looked quite foreboding! We had five days to travel 2400km. It seemed almost a certainty that this journey would be the cause of our first fight.
The first night was spent with my brother and his partner and that took us only about 450km out of Sydney. The plan was to try to get up the coast in the morning so that we would have time for a swim in the surf before going to my brother's. There are few places in the world with beaches more beautiful than the Mid North Coast of NSW. Seemingly endless tracts of white sand and the glorious South Pacific sending in wave after wave makes it a very appealing place to anyone who enjoys body-surfing. Everything went pretty much according to plan with one rest room stop en route and plenty of snacks that were cleverly packed by TLOML. By mid afternoon we were swimming alone on a beautiful beach. TLOML is particularly keen to swim where there are waves because her tropical island home is inside the Great Barrier Reef and is therefore inadequate in the wave department. I love the surf and always have but I can't really trust myself any more. I used to be a very strong swimmer but I have to dial it way back now and make sure that I pace myself. The last thing I need is a big exercise induced flare while I am trying to drive up the coast! The night with my brother was great. We had a delicious dinner with super tender steak and vegetables. Time slipped away far too quickly.
I woke early in the morning and found a few extra corners of space in Shermie (my car) to jam in some of my old tools that my brother's partner had been minding for me (for 12 years LOL). I will be needing them if I am going to make myself useful around the place here. We headed off in fairly good time. The second night was also planned. We needed to travel about another 450km to The Gold Coast where we were staying with TLOML's step-mother for the evening. TLOML was pretty keen to get another swim and we were shooting for a stop at Byron Bay. Unbeknownst to either of us Byron has been bypassed by the highway and I completely missed the turn off. It was such an unobtrusive sign! I was sure there would be another exit but after about 10 minutes still heading north it became apparent that there wasn't one! Oh well Brunswick Heads would have to do. TLOML pouted a little about missing Byron but we were in agreement that going back was too much of an inconvenience so she picked up the lip and we made for the gorgeous surf beach at Brunswick. We had a lovely swim, the waves were a little too choppy for body surfing but it was still refreshing and invigorating. We arrived in Surfer's Paradise with time to spare. We had a terrific evening with TLOML's step-mum, including beautiful accommodation on the 37th floor AND dinner at a seafood buffet where I managed to consume about 100 oysters. (I know I sound like a terrible piggy but there was a challenge involved!!!)
The third day we were planning to have an early swim in the surf and be on the road by 10am. TLOML was having such a nice time with her step-mum that we decided to skip the swim and leave a bit later. Still not a single cross word between us! Step-mum (who is lovely!!!) made us the most beautiful gourmet sandwiches for the road - smoked salmon, ricotta cheese, multi-grain bread, avocado - absolutely scrumptious! We had vaguely planned to head to the most northern surf beach in Queensland but unfortunately on this day we hit quite a lot of rain. I was not making great time but skipping the swim allowed us to reach Rockhampton for the night. This night was spent in a strange motel. My Minnesotan friends would call it "different". For a start the woman at the desk seemed so incredibly depressed that she looked like something from 'Night of the Living Dead'. The entire outside of the motel was tiled in big pseudo travertine tiles. When we managed to get inside the room we found that everything but the ceiling was tiled too!!! There was a single bedside table with the name of the motel written on the top AND on the drawers in permanent marker, the jug and the bar fridge were similarly labeled. Still the sheets were clean, TV worked and we were together!
Day four was trying because of some quite heavy rain and the almost complete lack of overtaking lanes on the two lane "highway". The day before had featured occasional signs saying "overtaking lane in 5 km" presumably to prevent us taking big risks overtaking but on day four no such signs appeared. I guess one saying "overtaking lane in 347 km" might not have been as effective. We actually could have made our destination on day four with just a little more endurance but we decided to stop about an hour south. We stayed in a nice motel and ordered food from the restaurant, none of the furniture or appliances were labeled with the motel's name so this motel appeared to have a higher standard of clientele.
Right on schedule we arrived in the morning on Day Five and were home by early afternoon. We even unloaded the car, though doing that nearly finished me off. I gratefully collapsed and was lovingly cared for by TLOML.
So here we are. Still not a single argument nor a cross word. Every decision has been reached by consensus. It's almost freaky how well we relate and how easily we get along. We are both quite emotional and sensitive women yet we seem to be able to help each other get through and over things more easily. It occurred to me that we defuse each other. Somehow we give or say the right thing at the right time. It is almost like between us we have a self-leveling mechanism that settles and resolves the issues that each of us has sometimes struggled with alone. It feels like we have always been together in the way that we manage to interact with virtually no anxiety. I can truly say that I have never had any relationship, in any capacity, even in work or in friendship, that was so harmonious. She is slender and beautiful with sparkling blue eyes that make me melt from any distance and I am completely, head over heels, besotted with her. I'm my own flawed and dilapidated self and yet she loves me, I mean, she really loves me and constantly demonstrates it with care and affection. Between us there is an easy flow of loving words and acts that completely back up and support the words. Doing not just saying. I am quite sure that we should be handing out nausea pills to anyone who has to spend time with us together.
We sometimes wonder what might have happened if a fortune teller had shown us a picture of this time and place when we were schoolgirls together 32 years ago. We both think we would have said "Why wait?" The interesting thing is that the answer to the question "Why wait?" was only revealed by the waiting. We have each learned some hard lessons and seen some dark days; enough to know that something as beautiful as this needs to be cherished and protected; enough to know that, as perfect as it feels right now, there will be obstacles and difficulties we need to face together as time moves on; enough to know just how much we should appreciate each other - we know how lucky we are.
So what would The Chef think?
I hope she would be happy for us both!
Saturday, 12 November 2011
The line between acceptance and giving up.
I really wish I had answers for this...
Wow there are so many things I want to talk about in this post that I don't know where to begin. Perhaps with a story...
I once had a friend who was functioning in society fairly well but clearly had some difficulty maintaining a consistent approach to her life. Then she received her diagnosis and suddenly everything became worse. She began to embody and experience all the worst symptoms of her illness. Her attempts to lead a normal life fell by the wayside as she quite tangibly embraced her diagnosis. I am not judging her. I know it had always been hard.
Back in 2009 I received a diagnosis of Fibromyalgia and in view of my friend's experience I decided not to research FMS and not to read any kind of list of symptoms. I was vehemently opposed to "embracing the diagnosis". So instead of reading the symptoms I listed the things I was experiencing and then investigated to see if they were FMS related.
Pain - Check
Fatigue - Check
Vertigo - Check
Poor balance - Check
Digestion issues - Check
Skin sensitivities - Check
Strange over the top startle/shock response - no check?
Trouble Swallowing - no check?
Clumsiness - Check
I just didn't want to subliminally convince myself to develop more problems than I already had. I think this was probably a stupid approach but I was quite determined at the time.
Of course time passes, and things started to get worse, and I began to have to accept that I really couldn't ignore these problems. This led to me wanting to find my community and wanting to relate to other people who really understood what was going on. Those of you who know me personally know that I am a curious person and that I process and assimilate information very easily and really without trying. So naturally the idea that I could not be educated about FMS became even more ridiculous when I reached out to others.
Still, as I have mentioned elsewhere, I had some strange delusion that coming home to Australia would make everything better... somewhere in my mind I saw myself here (in Oz) as the same person I was who left here in 1999. I'm not.
Please note that this blog is the product of a crappy, exhausted, painful day. It isn't always like this and I don't always feel this bad.
I think my twisted idea of not learning so as not to embrace etc was just one form of denial, the whole 'healthy when I come home' thing was another... I also think that my body is demanding that I accept what's going on and I think I am starting to do that. (All this blogging helps BTW). But there is a side effect of acceptance.
When I accept that I need help, in any form, I can relax a little from the constant battle to either hide my problems or "tough it out" and I now wonder if that was what I was seeing in my friend all those years ago. Which makes me wonder if it is a good thing at all?
This morning I drove The Boy to the train station (he is off back up the coast to go to his school formal (the prom for my North American friends)) and I got out of the car and yelped in pain as my back reacted very badly to the change from being seated to standing. I waited a few moments for the worst of the pain to pass and for the rest of my body to acclimate to standing. Then carefully and tentatively I started to walk using my walking stick. By now The Boy was 30 feet away from the car on the way into the train station. He stopped and waited a bit and teased me about looking like an old grandma (not that I don't have many friends younger than I who have grand children) and then he asked me an interesting question. He asked if I use the cane so that people don't bump into me. It made me think about all the reasons I use the cane... sometimes... and I don't always use it... but it also made me think of the visual message that using it sends to others and the fact that it does have a supplementary benefit of making people steer clear. I don't cope well with being bumped, my balance is terrible, every contact with my body hurts, if I fall it is excruciating (and I do fall too often), and I have anxiety about people, so I have a HUGE personal space. The walking stick gives me more room and that is a good thing. But it also allows me to let my weakness show and that is something I have avoided doing for my entire life. Remember I was raised by a super stoic...
I guess I have rambled on long enough in this blog but I could go on for a long time yet if I let myself... I guess I am just wondering how closely giving up or giving in is related to acceptance...
I read a really interesting little book last year by Richard Bach, the bloke who wrote Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, it was called 'Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah' and it was non religiously spiritual, full of really amazing messages about life the universe and everything... not the kind of thing I usually read but it had, LITERALLY, thrown itself into my path, it turned up in my car with no known source. The salient point here is that the book began with a long 'hand written' list about The Master and a parable that related to creatures that lived on the bottom of a crystal river and clung to the rocks as the raging current ran over them until one creature released his/her grip on the bottom and was swept on by the current. This creature met other creatures whose lives were different and experienced adventures and growth that clinging to the river bottom could never have provided... It was a great read which unfortunately I left behind in the US. I am that creature. I have thrown myself on the mercy of the current.
In spite of this I am still struggling with these issues... Is letting your pain show because you are becoming more accepting tantamount to giving up the fight? How much of the fight was really about maintaining my identity as a healthy vital person? How much of the fight was really about my ego and about what other people think? How much of the fight was really about trying to cling to the bottom like all the other creatures?
Wow there are so many things I want to talk about in this post that I don't know where to begin. Perhaps with a story...
I once had a friend who was functioning in society fairly well but clearly had some difficulty maintaining a consistent approach to her life. Then she received her diagnosis and suddenly everything became worse. She began to embody and experience all the worst symptoms of her illness. Her attempts to lead a normal life fell by the wayside as she quite tangibly embraced her diagnosis. I am not judging her. I know it had always been hard.
Back in 2009 I received a diagnosis of Fibromyalgia and in view of my friend's experience I decided not to research FMS and not to read any kind of list of symptoms. I was vehemently opposed to "embracing the diagnosis". So instead of reading the symptoms I listed the things I was experiencing and then investigated to see if they were FMS related.
Pain - Check
Fatigue - Check
Vertigo - Check
Poor balance - Check
Digestion issues - Check
Skin sensitivities - Check
Strange over the top startle/shock response - no check?
Trouble Swallowing - no check?
Clumsiness - Check
I just didn't want to subliminally convince myself to develop more problems than I already had. I think this was probably a stupid approach but I was quite determined at the time.
Of course time passes, and things started to get worse, and I began to have to accept that I really couldn't ignore these problems. This led to me wanting to find my community and wanting to relate to other people who really understood what was going on. Those of you who know me personally know that I am a curious person and that I process and assimilate information very easily and really without trying. So naturally the idea that I could not be educated about FMS became even more ridiculous when I reached out to others.
Still, as I have mentioned elsewhere, I had some strange delusion that coming home to Australia would make everything better... somewhere in my mind I saw myself here (in Oz) as the same person I was who left here in 1999. I'm not.
Please note that this blog is the product of a crappy, exhausted, painful day. It isn't always like this and I don't always feel this bad.
I think my twisted idea of not learning so as not to embrace etc was just one form of denial, the whole 'healthy when I come home' thing was another... I also think that my body is demanding that I accept what's going on and I think I am starting to do that. (All this blogging helps BTW). But there is a side effect of acceptance.
When I accept that I need help, in any form, I can relax a little from the constant battle to either hide my problems or "tough it out" and I now wonder if that was what I was seeing in my friend all those years ago. Which makes me wonder if it is a good thing at all?
This morning I drove The Boy to the train station (he is off back up the coast to go to his school formal (the prom for my North American friends)) and I got out of the car and yelped in pain as my back reacted very badly to the change from being seated to standing. I waited a few moments for the worst of the pain to pass and for the rest of my body to acclimate to standing. Then carefully and tentatively I started to walk using my walking stick. By now The Boy was 30 feet away from the car on the way into the train station. He stopped and waited a bit and teased me about looking like an old grandma (not that I don't have many friends younger than I who have grand children) and then he asked me an interesting question. He asked if I use the cane so that people don't bump into me. It made me think about all the reasons I use the cane... sometimes... and I don't always use it... but it also made me think of the visual message that using it sends to others and the fact that it does have a supplementary benefit of making people steer clear. I don't cope well with being bumped, my balance is terrible, every contact with my body hurts, if I fall it is excruciating (and I do fall too often), and I have anxiety about people, so I have a HUGE personal space. The walking stick gives me more room and that is a good thing. But it also allows me to let my weakness show and that is something I have avoided doing for my entire life. Remember I was raised by a super stoic...
I guess I have rambled on long enough in this blog but I could go on for a long time yet if I let myself... I guess I am just wondering how closely giving up or giving in is related to acceptance...
I read a really interesting little book last year by Richard Bach, the bloke who wrote Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, it was called 'Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah' and it was non religiously spiritual, full of really amazing messages about life the universe and everything... not the kind of thing I usually read but it had, LITERALLY, thrown itself into my path, it turned up in my car with no known source. The salient point here is that the book began with a long 'hand written' list about The Master and a parable that related to creatures that lived on the bottom of a crystal river and clung to the rocks as the raging current ran over them until one creature released his/her grip on the bottom and was swept on by the current. This creature met other creatures whose lives were different and experienced adventures and growth that clinging to the river bottom could never have provided... It was a great read which unfortunately I left behind in the US. I am that creature. I have thrown myself on the mercy of the current.
In spite of this I am still struggling with these issues... Is letting your pain show because you are becoming more accepting tantamount to giving up the fight? How much of the fight was really about maintaining my identity as a healthy vital person? How much of the fight was really about my ego and about what other people think? How much of the fight was really about trying to cling to the bottom like all the other creatures?
Saturday, 5 November 2011
A mighty Big day! Or a big Mighty day
Well my body is feeling like shit and I'm not surprised! I really pushed myself yesterday and I had a HUGE day.
I rested all day on Friday in preparation for Saturday hoping like crazy that I would be feeling ok and as fit as possible so that I could attend the Occupy Sydney Rally. I TRULY believe that THIS is our chance to try to make a difference. Now is the time for moderate, ordinary people to stand up and be counted and damn-it I'm going to be one of them! In spite of the inconvenience, in spite of the pain, in spite of the cost, in spite of the small difference one person can make - I WENT.
My old friend from kindergarten, I'll call her The Reader couldn't make it, though I forgive her and fully understand why, but my other friend from high school, The Radical, was there which was excellent! I found a seat and listened to the speakers occasionally joining in the chanted responses... "whose streets? OUR STREETS" "whose world? OUR WORLD" and when the group took off like a herd of turtles up George St I ambled along, stick in hand. We didn't "march" (I use the word very loosely) far, only about 4 blocks. At one point I shortened my route by cutting through an upscale mall (the MLC Centre) and enjoyed the respite of the shade and the escalator capitalism offered me (LOL - the irony wasn't lost on me even as I hobbled past Gucci, Cartier and Louis Vuitton). I was pretty exhausted by the time we reached the assembly point so I didn't stay long there. However an interesting thing happened on my way up George St - I was interviewed by the nightly news people (not Murdoch or Packer LOL) and although they used my least coherent snippet I did make it into the newscast. Rats - I was going to put the link in and tell you where to find me but it directs to a more recent story now! ( The Best Friend managed to catch the story and said I should commiserate with Obama that they chose the wrong soundbite.) I think they approached me because of my grey hair and walking stick, little did they know, I launched freely with "I'm not against capitalism but I am against corporate greed, there is a gross inequity in the distribution of wealth in our society, the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer and it's wrong..." I suspect I wasn't quite the dithering, benign woman they were expecting. The bit they chose to show was something like "there needs to be more sharing of the wealth"... oh well.
The need to be horizontal was becoming overwhelming, I'm like a drug addict needing a fix, so I had a lie down on the back seat of my car while I waited to pick another old friend up at the train station. She was delayed by the trains and as much as I was busting to see her I was really glad to have the extra time to rest.
I don't know where to begin to tell you about my wonderful evening! I literally laughed so much my sides are aching (and Felix the Cat was not present!). Thirty years ago, when I was a university student for the first time I met an incredible woman, let's call her The Lioness. We were working on a student theatre production together, I was acting and she was doing costume and set designing, and instantly we became friends forever. She is a person who exudes kindness, love and good humour. Well back in 1981 she took me back to her house where she lived in share accommodation with a tribe of people and there I met a woman who was to become another of my best "friends forever" friends, let's call her, The Actress. One of the housemates, who now lives in the US, is a close phone/internet friend still, and another, who I didn't know quite as well but whom I always enjoyed I shall call, The Scientist. Last night the four of us who are in Australia met for the evening.
I can't remember (not kidding here) the last time I had such a wonderful evening, the last time I laughed so much, the last time laughter and good company took most of my aches and pains away (probably aided by a few libations LOL). That amount of laughter is dangerous for middle-aged women who have given birth! Even now as I try to think of ways to convey the amusement I am laughing. The Lioness, who happens to be 5' 10" and slender, getting escorted to the ladies room (a novel experience) by a little Chinese waiter was one hilarious moment... on her return to the table upon inquiry about her escort it was explained that there is a code to get back in from the bathroom and he tried to show her but she "can't see and can't remember" so he just provided an escort instead. The Actress was wearing a pair of simply divine bright red high heels and so she became "Dorothy" for the evening followed by The Lioness (Lion), The Scientist, who is brilliant by any estimation, (she asked what the Scarecrow, wanted, to which I replied - "a brain!") and me, with my crunchy creaky body (Tin Man) and we followed the yellow brick road around Chinatown and eventually back to The Actress's house where we got to have dessert and a cuppa with her wonderful hubby, The Percussionist.
This period of my life has been quite unusual. I don't have any new friends at the moment (aside from my beloved mates on the other side of the computer screen!) I spend my time, when I do socialize with people I have known for ALL of my adult life and in some cases most of my entire life. Usually we have had long breaks in our contact, heaven knows I am a poor friend in that department, I leave it too long, get busy, feel like I have nothing of value to contribute, move to the other side of the planet, a million strange and twisted feelings prevent me from maintaining regular contact. Yet here they are, this collection of extraordinary women who I was fortunate enough to befriend in my youth, they are amazing, and beautiful, and funny, and loving, and quite frankly they are everything anyone would want in a friend. It makes me feel unworthy but still so damn lucky.
We are texting backwards and forwards today someone clever (The Scientist, quelle suprise!) seems to have figured out how to text everyone at once. The laughter and warmth survives despite the long time it has been between drinks. But it isn't just these three... It's The Reader, The Radical, The Best Friend, The Horsewoman, The Ex Girlfriend (X2 LOL), The Separatist, these are the incredible women I have rediscovered and I am going to do everything I can to never get so far away from them again.
I rested all day on Friday in preparation for Saturday hoping like crazy that I would be feeling ok and as fit as possible so that I could attend the Occupy Sydney Rally. I TRULY believe that THIS is our chance to try to make a difference. Now is the time for moderate, ordinary people to stand up and be counted and damn-it I'm going to be one of them! In spite of the inconvenience, in spite of the pain, in spite of the cost, in spite of the small difference one person can make - I WENT.
My old friend from kindergarten, I'll call her The Reader couldn't make it, though I forgive her and fully understand why, but my other friend from high school, The Radical, was there which was excellent! I found a seat and listened to the speakers occasionally joining in the chanted responses... "whose streets? OUR STREETS" "whose world? OUR WORLD" and when the group took off like a herd of turtles up George St I ambled along, stick in hand. We didn't "march" (I use the word very loosely) far, only about 4 blocks. At one point I shortened my route by cutting through an upscale mall (the MLC Centre) and enjoyed the respite of the shade and the escalator capitalism offered me (LOL - the irony wasn't lost on me even as I hobbled past Gucci, Cartier and Louis Vuitton). I was pretty exhausted by the time we reached the assembly point so I didn't stay long there. However an interesting thing happened on my way up George St - I was interviewed by the nightly news people (not Murdoch or Packer LOL) and although they used my least coherent snippet I did make it into the newscast. Rats - I was going to put the link in and tell you where to find me but it directs to a more recent story now! ( The Best Friend managed to catch the story and said I should commiserate with Obama that they chose the wrong soundbite.) I think they approached me because of my grey hair and walking stick, little did they know, I launched freely with "I'm not against capitalism but I am against corporate greed, there is a gross inequity in the distribution of wealth in our society, the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer and it's wrong..." I suspect I wasn't quite the dithering, benign woman they were expecting. The bit they chose to show was something like "there needs to be more sharing of the wealth"... oh well.
The need to be horizontal was becoming overwhelming, I'm like a drug addict needing a fix, so I had a lie down on the back seat of my car while I waited to pick another old friend up at the train station. She was delayed by the trains and as much as I was busting to see her I was really glad to have the extra time to rest.
I don't know where to begin to tell you about my wonderful evening! I literally laughed so much my sides are aching (and Felix the Cat was not present!). Thirty years ago, when I was a university student for the first time I met an incredible woman, let's call her The Lioness. We were working on a student theatre production together, I was acting and she was doing costume and set designing, and instantly we became friends forever. She is a person who exudes kindness, love and good humour. Well back in 1981 she took me back to her house where she lived in share accommodation with a tribe of people and there I met a woman who was to become another of my best "friends forever" friends, let's call her, The Actress. One of the housemates, who now lives in the US, is a close phone/internet friend still, and another, who I didn't know quite as well but whom I always enjoyed I shall call, The Scientist. Last night the four of us who are in Australia met for the evening.
I can't remember (not kidding here) the last time I had such a wonderful evening, the last time I laughed so much, the last time laughter and good company took most of my aches and pains away (probably aided by a few libations LOL). That amount of laughter is dangerous for middle-aged women who have given birth! Even now as I try to think of ways to convey the amusement I am laughing. The Lioness, who happens to be 5' 10" and slender, getting escorted to the ladies room (a novel experience) by a little Chinese waiter was one hilarious moment... on her return to the table upon inquiry about her escort it was explained that there is a code to get back in from the bathroom and he tried to show her but she "can't see and can't remember" so he just provided an escort instead. The Actress was wearing a pair of simply divine bright red high heels and so she became "Dorothy" for the evening followed by The Lioness (Lion), The Scientist, who is brilliant by any estimation, (she asked what the Scarecrow, wanted, to which I replied - "a brain!") and me, with my crunchy creaky body (Tin Man) and we followed the yellow brick road around Chinatown and eventually back to The Actress's house where we got to have dessert and a cuppa with her wonderful hubby, The Percussionist.
This period of my life has been quite unusual. I don't have any new friends at the moment (aside from my beloved mates on the other side of the computer screen!) I spend my time, when I do socialize with people I have known for ALL of my adult life and in some cases most of my entire life. Usually we have had long breaks in our contact, heaven knows I am a poor friend in that department, I leave it too long, get busy, feel like I have nothing of value to contribute, move to the other side of the planet, a million strange and twisted feelings prevent me from maintaining regular contact. Yet here they are, this collection of extraordinary women who I was fortunate enough to befriend in my youth, they are amazing, and beautiful, and funny, and loving, and quite frankly they are everything anyone would want in a friend. It makes me feel unworthy but still so damn lucky.
We are texting backwards and forwards today someone clever (The Scientist, quelle suprise!) seems to have figured out how to text everyone at once. The laughter and warmth survives despite the long time it has been between drinks. But it isn't just these three... It's The Reader, The Radical, The Best Friend, The Horsewoman, The Ex Girlfriend (X2 LOL), The Separatist, these are the incredible women I have rediscovered and I am going to do everything I can to never get so far away from them again.
Friday, 4 November 2011
When vim and vigour vamoose
It sounded like a cute title and then I read the definitions and was struck by the degree of applicability!
(The following definitions are taken from Dictionary.com)
My friend from Kindergarten/Primary School (Elementary for you North Americans) and I spent nearly three hours together talking and to be honest we never missed a beat. We ate, had a beer, I stretched and hobbled around as needed (and managed to resist the urge to lie down on my booth seat!) and we talked.
Ours was a bit of a funny story really. As kids we were thrust together to some extent cause our mother's were friends, we were in a small school together and to be honest neither of us really fit in with the "cool kids". We were both being raised by divorced women (no big deal today it was a different story in 1970!) We both had professional and relatively affluent fathers who had shit on our mothers in the divorces. We both read like wildfire and we both had a passion for the works of the wonderful Enid Blyton. Our closest times were spent playacting characters from these Enid Blyton books and running around the neighbourhood, and the mudflats on the Lane Cove River, pretending we were having the same kind of adventures as the Famous Five or the Secret Seven. In year 5, I was moved to a different school and things changed. Although she joined me at the new school from years 7 to 10 we never resumed the same level of close friendship. She was an intellectual bookworm (a genius I believe) who was quite a loner and I was a gregarious, athletic girl who was always participating in one activity or another. We remained friendly but we weren't really friends and our shared history slid away like so much other flotsam and jetsam bobbing in our wakes.
You must be wondering by now what this has to do with my title and the definitions in my introduction. Never fear! I won't leave you hanging - I'm on my way back to the point.
Of all of the old friends I have reconnected with no other has referenced so clearly who I was when I was young. She said, "You were fearless, You'd do anything!" She pointed to a palm tree that probably stood fifty feet tall, and said, "You would have been at the top of that." I would have too. I would have shimmied up that naked trunk, like a monkey, and hung upside down from the fronds at the top. She told me something I had never known; that she had envied me my fearless physicality. I was the living definition of vigour and enthusiasm. My barely controllable surplus of energy and my readiness to participate were a hindrance to me as a teenager. I didn't have Buckley's chance of even simulating the droll ennui of the "cool girls" the vitality, the vim, was sparking from me like electricity, in fact I was the very picture of a "live wire".
Until a few years ago I would have still described myself as very enthusiastic. One of the reasons I loved living in the US is that enthusiasm is appreciated there - it actually attracts people rather than making them look at you like you are embarrassingly energetic. I think mentally I am still capable of enthusiasm, I get enthusiastic about writing these blogs, I am enthusiastic to convey clearly what I think and feel. The outward signs of my mental passion have dimmed though... My body no longer permits me to move or respond quickly or forcefully, and the crisp and powerful gestures have been watered down to careful and restrained movements.
Twelve hours from now I am going to attend the Rally to Re-Occupy Sydney and I am hoping that my friend from kindergarten will be there. She doesn't like crowds, but she said she will try. My other friend has said she is coming too (the one I met up with at the other rally).
I don't like crowds either and I'll stay well clear of any mass of people, I'm not fearless any more, I don't want to be bumped or jostled - that shit hurts! I would go everywhere in a bubble of padding if I could. I guess the bottom line is that when vim and vigour vamoose you have no choice other than to take it very gently.
(The following definitions are taken from Dictionary.com)
- Vim (Noun) - lively or energetic spirit; enthusiasm; vitality
- Vigour (Noun) - healthy physical or mental energy or power; vitality
- Vamoose (Verb) - to leave hurriedly or quickly; decamp
My friend from Kindergarten/Primary School (Elementary for you North Americans) and I spent nearly three hours together talking and to be honest we never missed a beat. We ate, had a beer, I stretched and hobbled around as needed (and managed to resist the urge to lie down on my booth seat!) and we talked.
Ours was a bit of a funny story really. As kids we were thrust together to some extent cause our mother's were friends, we were in a small school together and to be honest neither of us really fit in with the "cool kids". We were both being raised by divorced women (no big deal today it was a different story in 1970!) We both had professional and relatively affluent fathers who had shit on our mothers in the divorces. We both read like wildfire and we both had a passion for the works of the wonderful Enid Blyton. Our closest times were spent playacting characters from these Enid Blyton books and running around the neighbourhood, and the mudflats on the Lane Cove River, pretending we were having the same kind of adventures as the Famous Five or the Secret Seven. In year 5, I was moved to a different school and things changed. Although she joined me at the new school from years 7 to 10 we never resumed the same level of close friendship. She was an intellectual bookworm (a genius I believe) who was quite a loner and I was a gregarious, athletic girl who was always participating in one activity or another. We remained friendly but we weren't really friends and our shared history slid away like so much other flotsam and jetsam bobbing in our wakes.
You must be wondering by now what this has to do with my title and the definitions in my introduction. Never fear! I won't leave you hanging - I'm on my way back to the point.
Of all of the old friends I have reconnected with no other has referenced so clearly who I was when I was young. She said, "You were fearless, You'd do anything!" She pointed to a palm tree that probably stood fifty feet tall, and said, "You would have been at the top of that." I would have too. I would have shimmied up that naked trunk, like a monkey, and hung upside down from the fronds at the top. She told me something I had never known; that she had envied me my fearless physicality. I was the living definition of vigour and enthusiasm. My barely controllable surplus of energy and my readiness to participate were a hindrance to me as a teenager. I didn't have Buckley's chance of even simulating the droll ennui of the "cool girls" the vitality, the vim, was sparking from me like electricity, in fact I was the very picture of a "live wire".
Until a few years ago I would have still described myself as very enthusiastic. One of the reasons I loved living in the US is that enthusiasm is appreciated there - it actually attracts people rather than making them look at you like you are embarrassingly energetic. I think mentally I am still capable of enthusiasm, I get enthusiastic about writing these blogs, I am enthusiastic to convey clearly what I think and feel. The outward signs of my mental passion have dimmed though... My body no longer permits me to move or respond quickly or forcefully, and the crisp and powerful gestures have been watered down to careful and restrained movements.
Twelve hours from now I am going to attend the Rally to Re-Occupy Sydney and I am hoping that my friend from kindergarten will be there. She doesn't like crowds, but she said she will try. My other friend has said she is coming too (the one I met up with at the other rally).
I don't like crowds either and I'll stay well clear of any mass of people, I'm not fearless any more, I don't want to be bumped or jostled - that shit hurts! I would go everywhere in a bubble of padding if I could. I guess the bottom line is that when vim and vigour vamoose you have no choice other than to take it very gently.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Why doesn't "Acceptance" mean getting presents?
I've been going through some barriers lately... Delusion busting I guess....
I hope I'm not the only one who has successfully perpetrated a fraud against myself.
When I moved home to Australia in the beginning of September I was under some strange illusion that I would be fine when I got here. Without a magician in sight I had managed to convince myself that a reduction in stress and the sights and smells of my homeland would make everything better (well at least everything manageable). Maybe it was the high of surviving the packing and moving, I don't know, but for about a week I did feel pretty good. In pain, slow, tired but not too bad - perhaps I was just very distracted with excitement and with seeing all the changes that have taken place in my absence. I don't know. Then I overdid it and crashed - and crashed I have stayed.
For a person with a poor tolerance for stupidity I was really stupid. I KNOW that this happens, I KNOW that the windows of time when I can feign normal are further apart and shorter all the time, I KNOW that I have been getting steadily worse for several years. Of course none of that was front of mind when I was spinning my web of self delusion!
My self image is undergoing a redesign and the new decor is not very attractive, brown, grey and gloomy have never been my colours! (Yes I know gloomy is not a colour - but it should be). I've been thinking about acceptance.
I remember the first time I used a motorized chair. It was when I was living in the US and on one very pain filled day I just couldn't face the endless aisles of Walmart. What a relief it was to use the scooter. I know people stared at me with my robust appearance of strength and good health, but for once I did not waste my precious energy trying to persuade my friend that we needed to leave! For once I wasn't desperately looking for somewhere to sit down and eyeing off the changing rooms to see if they were clean enough to take a moment horizontally. I also remember the intensity of the emotions that surround the renegotiation of self image that using an aid arouses. In fact I have been dealing with this again lately as I find I need to use a walking stick pretty much any time I am walking anywhere. I think there is a possibility that I am deluding myself about this too cause I tell myself it is mostly about balance, and yes my balance is appalling, but I think I am also giving my legs a bit of a break and letting my arm and shoulders take some of the strain. I know people look at me differently when I am using the cane, they move differently around me. It is a visible sign of the ravages of my invisible condition. But there are gains too, it kind of explains my pitiful slowness and my twisted grimaces; it gives me permission to let the pain and fatigue show, and that is a relief. Hiding, faking, pushing, straining and acting are bloody tiring. Yes "FAKING the thing so many people say fibro diagnosed people are doing... Well naysayers, you are right, we are faking... we are faking that we are ok when we are NOT, we are faking that we are like everyone else when we are NOT! Faking being normal not faking FMS.
Tomorrow I am seeing Dr McLovely again. My test results and xrays will be back. I need to write myself a list of things I want to mention to her cause I can't trust myself to remember them. I've been having some trouble with my vision but I think I will leave that for another time if it doesn't resolve, it's really only in the mornings anyway, maybe like morning stiffness for my eyes where they seem to take a while to wake up and pull focus correctly.
Anyway time to sleep - I had a big day today - I changed the sheets!
I hope I'm not the only one who has successfully perpetrated a fraud against myself.
When I moved home to Australia in the beginning of September I was under some strange illusion that I would be fine when I got here. Without a magician in sight I had managed to convince myself that a reduction in stress and the sights and smells of my homeland would make everything better (well at least everything manageable). Maybe it was the high of surviving the packing and moving, I don't know, but for about a week I did feel pretty good. In pain, slow, tired but not too bad - perhaps I was just very distracted with excitement and with seeing all the changes that have taken place in my absence. I don't know. Then I overdid it and crashed - and crashed I have stayed.
For a person with a poor tolerance for stupidity I was really stupid. I KNOW that this happens, I KNOW that the windows of time when I can feign normal are further apart and shorter all the time, I KNOW that I have been getting steadily worse for several years. Of course none of that was front of mind when I was spinning my web of self delusion!
My self image is undergoing a redesign and the new decor is not very attractive, brown, grey and gloomy have never been my colours! (Yes I know gloomy is not a colour - but it should be). I've been thinking about acceptance.
I remember the first time I used a motorized chair. It was when I was living in the US and on one very pain filled day I just couldn't face the endless aisles of Walmart. What a relief it was to use the scooter. I know people stared at me with my robust appearance of strength and good health, but for once I did not waste my precious energy trying to persuade my friend that we needed to leave! For once I wasn't desperately looking for somewhere to sit down and eyeing off the changing rooms to see if they were clean enough to take a moment horizontally. I also remember the intensity of the emotions that surround the renegotiation of self image that using an aid arouses. In fact I have been dealing with this again lately as I find I need to use a walking stick pretty much any time I am walking anywhere. I think there is a possibility that I am deluding myself about this too cause I tell myself it is mostly about balance, and yes my balance is appalling, but I think I am also giving my legs a bit of a break and letting my arm and shoulders take some of the strain. I know people look at me differently when I am using the cane, they move differently around me. It is a visible sign of the ravages of my invisible condition. But there are gains too, it kind of explains my pitiful slowness and my twisted grimaces; it gives me permission to let the pain and fatigue show, and that is a relief. Hiding, faking, pushing, straining and acting are bloody tiring. Yes "FAKING the thing so many people say fibro diagnosed people are doing... Well naysayers, you are right, we are faking... we are faking that we are ok when we are NOT, we are faking that we are like everyone else when we are NOT! Faking being normal not faking FMS.
Tomorrow I am seeing Dr McLovely again. My test results and xrays will be back. I need to write myself a list of things I want to mention to her cause I can't trust myself to remember them. I've been having some trouble with my vision but I think I will leave that for another time if it doesn't resolve, it's really only in the mornings anyway, maybe like morning stiffness for my eyes where they seem to take a while to wake up and pull focus correctly.
Anyway time to sleep - I had a big day today - I changed the sheets!
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Adventures of a lesbian agnostic carnivore
The fact that I am an agnostic carnivore did NOT prevent my friend S, in a fit of giggles, from signing me up to join her daughter at the local synagogue for a kosher vegetarian cooking class. In the process of signing me up my email address was repeatedly auto corrected to read "gentiles" - it may have been the I Phones way of trying to warn the synagogue that a heathen was soon to be in their midst!
Tonight was the night!
Would it be alarmingly ironic if there were thirteen in the class? I seriously think there were... (plus the teacher/chef and her partner)
I was being REALLY good until the onions.
There was a fellow there who was asking questions phrased in very odd ways... "Would you like to tell us something about the onions?" he asked. I'm thinking, 'Like what? That they were abandoned on a doorstep at birth? That they cost $3 a kilo? That they prefer their martini shaken, not stirred?' Clearly the chef was also wondering what he wanted to know but she bravely launched into an explanation that those were the nicest ones in the store. Then she leaned across the room with an onion in her outstretched hand and said. "Go on, feel how firm they are." I watched him hesitate, his hands almost reaching out but pausing tentatively, heading towards the onion but not making much progress, a pregnant pause hung over the room as he seemed to teeter on the horns of this great conundrum... I couldn't stand the tension...
"Go on mate, it's not every day a woman wants you to feel her onion!" I said.
His next comment related to the herbs and he asked her "How long does thyme keep?" I managed to leave that one alone... I also managed to resist when the chef was warning us very seriously NOT to let the orange zest sit in the water in which it was boiled and I successfully refrained from saying "It just isn't kosher".
Seriously though they were really nice people and I had a great time. The feast at the end of the meal was delicious, fresh and nutritious. I'd never been to a synagogue before, as chance would have it, but I'm pretty sure by the end of the 5 week course I will have spent more time in the synagogue than in any other house of worship, and that's just fine with me!
BTW thyme keeps for a week if it is in water.
Tonight was the night!
Would it be alarmingly ironic if there were thirteen in the class? I seriously think there were... (plus the teacher/chef and her partner)
I was being REALLY good until the onions.
There was a fellow there who was asking questions phrased in very odd ways... "Would you like to tell us something about the onions?" he asked. I'm thinking, 'Like what? That they were abandoned on a doorstep at birth? That they cost $3 a kilo? That they prefer their martini shaken, not stirred?' Clearly the chef was also wondering what he wanted to know but she bravely launched into an explanation that those were the nicest ones in the store. Then she leaned across the room with an onion in her outstretched hand and said. "Go on, feel how firm they are." I watched him hesitate, his hands almost reaching out but pausing tentatively, heading towards the onion but not making much progress, a pregnant pause hung over the room as he seemed to teeter on the horns of this great conundrum... I couldn't stand the tension...
"Go on mate, it's not every day a woman wants you to feel her onion!" I said.
His next comment related to the herbs and he asked her "How long does thyme keep?" I managed to leave that one alone... I also managed to resist when the chef was warning us very seriously NOT to let the orange zest sit in the water in which it was boiled and I successfully refrained from saying "It just isn't kosher".
Seriously though they were really nice people and I had a great time. The feast at the end of the meal was delicious, fresh and nutritious. I'd never been to a synagogue before, as chance would have it, but I'm pretty sure by the end of the 5 week course I will have spent more time in the synagogue than in any other house of worship, and that's just fine with me!
BTW thyme keeps for a week if it is in water.
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Being "other" - Other than what?
I think my self image is symbolized by a series of interwoven and overlapping bell curves and spectrums which contrasts with the equally interesting series of interwoven and overlapping bell curves and spectrums that depict the way others view me. Like two fabrics with the same pattern in different colours.
Maybe this is not making sense... but imagine that nearly everything could be measured on a bell curve... How tall are you? 8 foot is on the extreme right - 3 foot is on the extreme left and my 5 foot 6 inches is in that amalgamous clump in the middle. So it is with sexuality and also with disability (in its many layers). Curves, spectrums and methods of measuring people and ranking them against one another.
Don't go screaming out that people are people and we are all individuals - I know we are... in fact that is the very topic of this discussion!
The girlwiththecane made an interesting comment on my last blog that got me thinking... She was referring to my parallel of butch being "visible lesbian" like certain physical disabilities are "visible disability" and mentioned the universality of being "other". But is it "universal" and what is "other"? Does a brunette cheer leader feel some sense of "differentness" (aka "otherness") because she is not blonde? Does being overweight elicit the same feelings of "otherness" even though there are so many people who share that situation? I know that one can feel an "otherness" when overseas or when culturally displaced... In fact my very name "Displaced" derives from this feeling of not belonging. Is there anyone who doesn't feel a sense of "otherness"?
Even in our own families, where surely we have more commonalities than with strangers, most of us feel some sense of "otherness" of being "the black sheep" or of having been born into the wrong family.
Really is it only the narcissist (clearly the extreme edge of the bell curve or spectrum of self assuredness and ergo "other") who, in his or her delusions of perfection, sees themselves as belonging?
I must speak only for myself... I don't fit, I never did and I never really knew why. I wasn't like other kids and I wasn't like my family. When I finally understood that I was a lesbian in my very early 20's I attributed this sense of "otherness" to my previously misunderstood sexual preference... I guess I figured that others had felt or sensed something in me that I had not accepted or recognized yet. Then I learned that I am also not like other lesbians and I don't really fit in with that crowd either. Now I have this annoying issue with my invisible semi-disability and I feel like I don't quite fit with either the fully healthy, the sick or the disabled.
The people who I connect with are few and far between - they shine like gemstones catching a flicker of light on the sands of an endless beach, when I catch that glimmer I set my course in that direction and hope to see the flash again because I know how truly rare those gemstones are. I seem to find one, or if I am lucky two, per decade. Even then it is not that we are so similar, or that we have any sense of "sameness", it is more that we value and appreciate our particular versions of individual "otherness".
My life in a nutshell;
I am NONE OF THE ABOVE (and to be quite frank - nor are you.)
Maybe this is not making sense... but imagine that nearly everything could be measured on a bell curve... How tall are you? 8 foot is on the extreme right - 3 foot is on the extreme left and my 5 foot 6 inches is in that amalgamous clump in the middle. So it is with sexuality and also with disability (in its many layers). Curves, spectrums and methods of measuring people and ranking them against one another.
Don't go screaming out that people are people and we are all individuals - I know we are... in fact that is the very topic of this discussion!
The girlwiththecane made an interesting comment on my last blog that got me thinking... She was referring to my parallel of butch being "visible lesbian" like certain physical disabilities are "visible disability" and mentioned the universality of being "other". But is it "universal" and what is "other"? Does a brunette cheer leader feel some sense of "differentness" (aka "otherness") because she is not blonde? Does being overweight elicit the same feelings of "otherness" even though there are so many people who share that situation? I know that one can feel an "otherness" when overseas or when culturally displaced... In fact my very name "Displaced" derives from this feeling of not belonging. Is there anyone who doesn't feel a sense of "otherness"?
Even in our own families, where surely we have more commonalities than with strangers, most of us feel some sense of "otherness" of being "the black sheep" or of having been born into the wrong family.
Really is it only the narcissist (clearly the extreme edge of the bell curve or spectrum of self assuredness and ergo "other") who, in his or her delusions of perfection, sees themselves as belonging?
I must speak only for myself... I don't fit, I never did and I never really knew why. I wasn't like other kids and I wasn't like my family. When I finally understood that I was a lesbian in my very early 20's I attributed this sense of "otherness" to my previously misunderstood sexual preference... I guess I figured that others had felt or sensed something in me that I had not accepted or recognized yet. Then I learned that I am also not like other lesbians and I don't really fit in with that crowd either. Now I have this annoying issue with my invisible semi-disability and I feel like I don't quite fit with either the fully healthy, the sick or the disabled.
The people who I connect with are few and far between - they shine like gemstones catching a flicker of light on the sands of an endless beach, when I catch that glimmer I set my course in that direction and hope to see the flash again because I know how truly rare those gemstones are. I seem to find one, or if I am lucky two, per decade. Even then it is not that we are so similar, or that we have any sense of "sameness", it is more that we value and appreciate our particular versions of individual "otherness".
My life in a nutshell;
I am NONE OF THE ABOVE (and to be quite frank - nor are you.)
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