As if I weren’t already dealing with enough crap here, apparently one of the possible side effects of having an intestinal bacteria is arthritis.
Please stop the world.
I want to get off.
Harnessing the healing power of snark
…that last month when I had strep throat I asked the doctor for a different antibiotic than she was going to prescribe, because the one she was going to prescribe caused me to experience some severe intestinal issues
…that by taking the new antibiotic I contracted clostridium difficile,, an intestinal infection consisting of nothing but those very same intestinal issues
…that the treatment for this infection is…yet more antibiotics.
Oh, Universe, you tricky bastard you.
By Jenny Ryan
There are many things for which I am grateful to my friend, Lynne, but one of my favorites is the fact that she was the person who introduced me to the fantastic phrase, “Just ‘cuz.”
Until I met her, nothing in my life had ever been done “just ‘cuz”. I always backed up everything I decided to do with case plans, legal arguments, graphs, pie charts, handouts, and a Power Point presentation so that, if asked, I could at any moment give a detailed presentation on exactly why I should be allowed to do the activity in question, and exactly how it would lead to some sort of measurable result such as more money or a better job.
Then I met Lynne.
And one day when I was telling her about some kind of training I wanted to take, and I finished my whole song-and-dance routine of justifying why I wanted to do this, she said, “What if you just did this. Just. ‘Cuz.?”
For a while I was speechless, mostly because I was involved in picking all the pieces of my brain up off the floor. And then I was all, “Oh, sure, but first why don’t I go rob a bank, and then go knock off a chain of convenience stores because, HELLO!, you are not allowed to do something just because you want to and you think it will be fun. What’s wrong with you?!”
But truth be told, I was fascinated with this idea. It was sort of like mental cocaine, the idea that maybe, just maybe, I could actually do the things I wanted to do just ‘cuz. No need for any lengthy dissertations or comprehensive oral exams where I had to prove my worthiness. Just. ‘Cuz.
So ever since then I have been luxuriating in the freedom this thought brings. Like, the kind of luxuriating where you roll around naked in giant piles of money while your handsomely oiled and scantily-clad pool boys fan you with large palm fronds and hand feed you individual pieces of gourmet chocolate on the beach of your own, private, Caribbean island.
Yes, I’ve been living it up big time with these two little words. And then recently, I discovered yet another liberating aspect of this powerful thought.
As I’ve written before, during the past few months I’ve been very involved in learning how to manage my anxiety disorder. I’ve also had to deal with a lot of health challenges, as I often do in the fall.
And while I love all the personal growth work I do, the shadow side of that comes out when I blame myself for my conditions and tell myself things like, “Well, if I were more enlightened, I wouldn’t be having all these problems. If I were just doing this stuff right, I wouldn’t be so sick.”
And once again, Lynne stepped in and helped me see this another way.
“What if,” she suggested, “you are not to blame?”
“What if this is just a thing, like, you just have an anxiety thing?”
“What if,” she posited, “just like we can be happy ‘just ‘cuz’, we can just have an anxiety thing ‘just ‘cuz’?”
“What if you could let yourself off the hook?”
I’m not exaggerating when I say that there is no number high enough for me to describe the amount of shame, judgment, and blame that lifted off my shoulders when she said these things to me. It was such a tremendous relief to have another way to view this situation, one that did not involve the need to constantly abuse myself mentally.
Such a powerful little phrase, those two little words. Once again they are proving to be quite the lifesaver for me.
To read some more great posts about how we can let ourselves off the hook, check out:
“Doing our work” by Lynne Morrell, and
“Positive Attitudes: All Powerful…or Maybe Just Warm and Cozy?” by Alix North.
And what I learned yesterday was that having diarrhea for 12 days in a row is kind of a bad thing. Who knew?
Just wanted to explain why I’ve disappeared for a while, as all my time and energy is now divided between mainlining Gatorade, waiting to hear which of the wonderful intestinal bacterias such as E Coli or salmonella that I’ve managed to contract, and waiting for some kind of horrific alien to burst forth from my stomach because, seriously, who knows what I could be growing in there?!
The other day I had a session with one of my new students. I was testing him on his vocabulary in preparation for a test, and we got to the word “edad”, which means “age”.
He couldn’t remember the English definition, so I tried to give him a hint.
I said, “If I tell you, ‘yo tengo treinta y cinco años’ (Literally, “I have 35 years”), then ‘treinta y cinco años’ is my ‘edad’.”
He thought about it for a while, and suddenly the light of comprehension dawned on his face.
So proud with himself for finally arriving at the right answer he yelled out, “I’ve got it-it’s OLD!”

As I believe I might’ve mentioned here once or twice, I have worked tirelessly through years of living with depression, only to emerge, hopeful and blinking into the sunlight, to discover that now I have to learn to manage an anxiety disorder. (As I am trying to make this a mostly-family-friendly blog, I’ll just go ahead and censor my reaction to this little discovery.)
You wouldn’t really know it unless you were my husband, and had to listen this every time you came to visit me in my office: “Oh my god, you did NOT just throw your dirty socks on my office floor, did you?! Oh, the pain! The burning! I’m m-e-l-t-i-n-g…”
I used to think that this was just one of my, um, “personality quirks” until I went to a new therapist and had to fill out an anxiety assessment. As in, “Does your need to clean interfere with your daily life?” (My Response: None of your damn business!) Also, there was an entire section that dealt with one’s anxiety in dealing with “fecal matter” (hm, can’t wait to see what kind of spam I start to get now), which made me feel a lot better about the fact that in 35 years I have never once changed a diaper, and as God as my witness, I NEVER WILL!!, bonding with any future nieces and nephews be damned!
The main way that this disorder manifests for me is that in my mind, whenever I’m reading a book, watching TV, listening to the radio, or listening to anyone speak, I am constantly counting the number of syllables I hear and gathering them into groups of even-numbered words that add up to eight syllables (as in, eight one-syllable words, two four-syllable words, etc.)
So I’m on this new medication to help ease all my symptoms of anxiety, and I’m eagerly awaiting the day when my mind will once again belong to me rather than my OCD thoughts, and then we bought the game “Brain Age” for the Nintendo DS. It’s this little regimen of activities to help enhance your brain function, and do you know what one of the training exercises is? That’s right-syllable counting.
Someone is actually lauding my crazy-ass mental disorder as a skill to be devoutly desired and actively pursued. In a competitive, timed game that rewards you, the quicker and more accurate your syllable-counting skill becomes.
Somehow, that just doesn’t seem right.
But of course I played it, because who wouldn‘t leap on the chance to actively flaunt what is, (unfortunately, in this case), the one thing they are best at in the whole entire world.
When you finish the test they rank your ability in terms of things that move, like a person walking, a bicycle, etc.
Can you guess what my speed was?
ROCKET. SHIP.
I can’t decide whether to celebrate, or to ask for an increase in my meds.
