…when your first words to your husband upon his returning home from work are, “The reason it smells like an electrical fire…”
Dear Target’s Greeting Card Department: You Have Completely Captured The Essence Of Having A Chronic Illness
This Is What Fibromyalgia Looks Like
New Toy
I Really Wish I Could Cut Myself Some Slack
You’d think that after 5 years I would have gotten the fact that I can’t bend this fibromyalgia thing to my will, but apparently my mind didn’t get that memo. Actually, it probably did get the memo, and then gave it the finger and yelled, “Maybe no one else has been able to wrest control away from this disease but it will be different for me, because never before has it faced willpower of this strength and magnitude, mwah ha ha ha ha!” (And I’m sure you can just imagine how well that‘s going.)
I’ve been pretty sick these past couple of months so I’ve been stuck in Pain Brain, which pretty much takes up ALL THE SPACE! Plus, not surprisingly, there’s not a whole lot of humor around when you are smack dab in the red hot center of suffering. So it’s been really hard for me to write.
But despite all of this, I continually beat myself up about this blog and how I’m not posting much here (because of course the whole point of this blog is to be yet another tool of punishment and self-flagellation. Oy.)
Sometimes I’m able to challenge all the little thought gremlins and stories that have attached themselves like crusty barnacles to the ship of my writing:
-I’m not trying to make money with this blog. It’s not my business, so I’m not losing money or work by not posting on some sort of “regular schedule” (whatever that means).
-No one has ever said to me, “Hey! Where the [bleep] is your next blog post?! You’re not posting enough-I’m leaving!” (And thank you all very much for that.)
-Many people who read my blog are also sick, so they understand about having a limited capacity for doing things and that you’re always having to chose what to spend your reserves on, and what to let go.
-Plus, they probably appreciate not being inundated with blog posts all the time. I know I’ve unsubscribed from people because they sent out so many things that it was impossible to actually read any of them.
-I’m certainly not going to forget how to write.
-Nor am I going to miss stories or run out of material. I have files and notebooks full of ideas, and my experiences are always with me, as a part of me. They’re not going anywhere.
(Hm. I seem to have created a bit of space where I can breathe now, and maybe even make up some stories that feel good. Perhaps I can get my storyteller to work with, rather than against me.)
But I do have something fun to report. This month I’ve been taking a course called Be Your Own Beloved with Vivienne McMaster . which she describes as ” a 28 day photo adventure designed to cultivate self-compassion through the practice of taking self-portraits.”
There is a whole novel’s worth of posts in here about how this is helping to heal my relationship with my body, but those are for another day. However in addition to that I’m also learning how I can tell a story in pictures, which is great for the days when I don’t seem to have any words. So that’s what inspired the 2 previous picture posts, which were taken in response to the prompts of “The Truth Of Today”, and “Rest”.
I’m still feeling pretty crappy today, so I’ll leave you with today’s photo, which was all about being open to signs of love around you. Thank you all so much for being here 🙂
Also, You Apparently Lose Your Ability To Spell
The Truth Of Today
Good Words
No Good Deed
Lately my parents have been stretched thin with family crises, and there hasn’t been any way for me to help. Then one day while browsing Amazon I discovered a book of funny math cartoons which made a perfect, surprise, “pick-me-up” gift for my former math teacher mom.
I forgot to include a note with the package, but I assumed my parents would figure out it was from me.
I figured wrong.
Now, just for comparison’s sake, here’s the conversation my husband and I would’ve had upon the arrival of an unexpected package from Amazon:
My Husband: “I see your secret Amazon boyfriend was here again.”
Me: “I know! Someone sent us a surprise gift !”
My Husband: “Cool! Open it up and see what it is.”
But apparently, this is what went down at my parents’ house:
Dad: (calling my mom at work): “Were you expecting something from Amazon?”
Mom: “No.”
Dad: “We just got a package from Amazon.”
Mom: “Well I didn’t order anything.”
Dad: “Then why did we get a package if we didn’t order anything?”
Mom: “Oh no-what if someone hacked our account so they could steal our credit card information?”
Dad: “Well no, that doesn’t make sense. Why would they have sent something to us if they were trying to steal from us?
Mom: “I’m on my lunch hour. I can come home right now and take it back to the post office. Do you think we should cancel our credit card?”
Dad: “Not yet. I guess we can wait ’til you get home to deal with it.”
I can’t swear that I captured their conversation verbatim, because by the time my mom finished recounting this story I was laughing so hard that my eardrums were bleeding, but I think I pretty much got the gist of things.
So apparently I did not only send them a fun surprise. I sent them a surprise, wrapped in the tissue paper of suspicion, tied up with a pretty, panic-inducing bow.
Do I know how to give a gift or what?
Thursday Afternoon
My Brain: GAH! YOU MUST DO ALL OF THE THINGS! RIGHT NOW! OR ELSE YOU WILL DIE!!
Me: Dear Brain-Please use your inside voice. If you keep shrieking at me, I will not be able to get anything done. It will be OK, I promise.
My Brain: I just don’t want you to forget anything.
Me: Apparently you’ve forgotten that I’m a severely OCD firstborn child of two firstborn parents married to another firstborn. It is GENETICALLY IMPOSSIBLE for me to forget ANY of the things.
My Brain: OK, um, great then. Carry on.
