The Little Things in Life

I've been puzzling for months about what my mission or purpose in life is and could never figure out what it could possily be. I came up empty every time. But, after watching a video about how to find out, it was like a flashbulb went off, like a black and white photo miraculously turned into brilliant colors in my brain.

All this time I've been thinking that my purpose must be some grandiose gesture that would save the world or something. But suppose it's a simple thing, not a mile-high chore that is difficult and complicated.

For example, for various reasons, I became awfully shy and dependent on others to make me like myself. It was futile, of course. The sad fact is, I must like myself just the way I am in order to gain confidence in myself. Nobody else can do that for me. Maybe my purpose in this life is to gain that self-confidence and stop being so dependent on others for pats on my back.

I've realized that I abhor hurting other people so my well-earned ability to be patient and tolerant is coming in handy, as long as I don't let people walk all over me. If I'm self-confident, i will be able to greet criticsm with humor and will be far more able to evaluate what the criticism is. I might find something useful that way.

I haven't learned how to boost my confidence without depending on others. It's going to be a tough habit to break, but I usually manage to accomplish things I really want to do. For example, when I was 14 or 15, I managed to change my horrible handwriting into something quite legible. It took months, but I did it. Through the years I've gotten several compliments on how neat and pretty it is. If I could do that, surely I can manage this.

So I'm off to the internet to look for how-to books, articles, and videos. I musn't skip the spiritual ideas. They could be much more instructive than the more pedestrian ideas.I feel that the answer for this will turn out to be deep inside me. I'm already beginning to feel the unconditional love that exists as a gift inside me. I will have to learn how to access that. It's all part of my journey.

Thank you for stumbling  along with me on my road. May your journeys through life be full of light and love. ❤

Believe.

Grrrr! Pfffft!

I was sitting on the floor in my living room one morning. I hardly ever sat on the floor, because I had osteoarthritis in both knees pretty badly and it was a bitch to get up again. So I didn't know when or why I'd sat down there, but I knew it was a school morning and my 8 year old daughter needed to wake up and get ready to go.

I started pulling myself up, using a chair for leverage, meanwhile yelling at Lyra to wake up. She came running in and asked me, "Are you sick? What's wrong?" I guess she thought it was strange that I hadn't gone into her room and gently rubbed her back to wake her up, like I usually did.

I told her no, I was just having some trouble getting up. Then I told her to get dressed for school and continued trying to pulll myself up. She scampered back to her room and got dressed. Her bookbag was already by the front door, ready for her. She ate breakfast at school, so that wasn't a problem. Before long, her bus pulled up at the curb in front of our duplex and she very bravely went out and boarded it by herself. I usually walked out with her and watched until the bus pulled away. Not that day. I was frustrated that my knees were not cooperating with me. And I was getting tired.

Lyra, meanwhile, told her teacher I was sick and couldn't get up off the floor. Her teacher, an amazing woman, rushed over to our place and found me there, sitting on the floor. I was exhausted. She quickly called 911. The ambulance came, and I must have passed out. I remember them starting to put a backboard under me. Then, as if I had beem magically whisked away, I was lying in a bed in the ICU at the hospital. I'll never forget that moment because, for some odd reason, both my legs were floating above the bed, tied by strings to my hips.

That was March 30, 2010, when everything in my world changed.

So I've been in bed nearly every day since. Well, I did used to wish for more time to myself. Wishes do come true, it seems. I realize now that I should have been more specific.

There have been some new developments. I'm going to see an endocrinologist, as if I know what that is, and I'm going to meet up with the dietician. She's going to tell me to stop eating outside food and to tell Jeff to stop bringing me supper the days that he visits. And I'm going to say no.

Then the doctor is going to order me to stop eating snacks and to stop having outside food brought in and I'm going to say, ain't gonna happen. 

My blood sugar has been high since before last Christmas purely because of the fact that I have had various infections since then. I just started on a broad spectrim antibiotic because I finally, after several weeks, got my doctor to order a urine test. And, yes, I have a UTI. Nothing new.

All my doctors and nurses have been harping on me about how what I'm eating is causing my blood sugar to be high. It's high even when I haven't eaten in the past 17 hours. But they will not listen to me because I'm just a stupid old woman who doesn't know anything, derp derp, derp.

Grrrr.

Eating things I like is just about the only pleasure I have left and the only power I have over my life. Take that away, and there truly is nothing left to get me through the long, endlessly boring, lonely days. Why, then, would life be worth living? I'm already standing with one foot hovering over the edge of a steep cliff. I resent having to defend this last tiny bastion of independence.

Oh, poo. I'm going to lose my mind. That's all there is to it. Don't get old. People just assume you're senile if you don't agree with them, especially doctors. A lot of those are gods, don't you know, and if you don't take everything they say as gospel and follow them off a cliff like a lemming, you're just being "difficult" or, if you're old, you're "irascible"

I could rattle on indignantly like this forever, but I'll spare you. I've already ranted more than is polite.

Be well and happy, peeps. Otherwise, life stinks. Love ya.

Hide me!

Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting

Only I'm fighting a shapeshifter that lives inside me. I'm frightened to face whatever is inside me, even though I believe good things await me there. Sometimes I feel so weary. That's probably partly because of running my mind through the wringer and partly because of physical exhaustion.

I can't make sense of what's going on in my life. I have to assume that being paraplegic and almost constantly bedbound is the way to some kind of lesson, possibly to discovering my life's purpose. Perhaps neither. I'm always watchful for clues, but I think I must be looking in the wrong place, maybe even in the wrong plane of existence. Looks like I'll be speaking to my helpers again tonight to see what might happen. It's worth a try, anyway.

I have come to believe some spiritual things that fly in the face of many of my friends' beliefs. I really don't think there's a wrong way to worship, unless it involves violence. I'm just seeking out what feels right to me. I don't want to give anyone the feeling that I'm preaching to them or expect them to follow my beliefs. This is just me,exploring and learning  and evolving. Try to consider all this as me thinking out loud, trying to get myself in order.

It's like my mind is dancing in circles. Wish I could dance for real. I keep meaning to dance in bed. It's one of the most joyous things I've found that I can do. Must remember what a boost I get from that.

Dance with me, dear ones. Turn the music of your lives to max, let go and let joy overtake you. Peace.

This is Lyra, age 5, dancing in her hospital bed in her own way. You can see it in her eyes.

What a Day!

What an unusual day. I can't say it was a really happy day. I feel like my heart is breaking, but can't pinpoint the reason. Still, all in all this was a pretty good day. I got nearly enough sleep. I had a good session with my shrink, Mike. I'm almost always in a better mood after I see him, even when our session is intense and gloomy. Today's was fairly lighthearted.

But later I  got an email about the upcoming Walk for the Cure that raises money for pediatric cancer research. My daughter, Lyra, who fought cancer for more than 3 years has had a team walking for her since before she died. I couldn't participate because I was a paraplegic by then and unable to get up into a wheelchair. There were so many things I missed out on in Lyra's life that year or so between the time I became bedbound and the day Lyra's tortured little body released her spirit. I was very sorry for myself when that happened. But I am happy for Lyra.

I think maybe that reminder is what has my heart hurting so much. If so, it will recover. She had such a bright spirit, full of love and joy, that I have a hard time staying sad when I remember her. And there are times I could swear I feel her spirit near me.

I am a novice student of spirituality. Not religion. I see some truth in many religions, but I also see cruelty, selfishness, tyranny and hypocrisy along with goodness. Seems to me that, in an effort to make sense of things that humankind will probably never be able to make sense of, people just got more confused. And whatever caused all this to come into being, even if it's a vast interconnection of vibrating energy, is no more understood now than the first creatures who began to try and make sense of things did. How do you explain the unexplainable? You can't so you make stuff up. That's the part of organized religion that I shun. Also, in my opinion, people who are secure in their faith don't try to force it down the throats of others. In my viewpoint, God, or whatever you want to call Him/She/It doesn't care if you're religious or spiritual or an atheist or a serial killer or Hitler or Rasputin or a US president who sacrifices thousands and millions of people in unnecessary wars. Part of our vibrating energy is shared with the creator's vibrating energy. Review the song, "All Together Now" by the Beatles. Didn't George write that? If so, since he went to spirit, I'm pretty sure his soul has advanced.

I went the long way around to telll you about something that happened this week. I was suffering, deep in my heart. But I continued to read books and watch videos about spirituality, especially about guardian angels. I think they're probably advanced spirits, but guardian angel will do as a marker. I do believe in them and have for decades because of a class I took on healing from a Choctaw woman. She had me come to her house alone one evening to determine how many "helpers" i had. She had me stand up straight and still, but relaxed, and said that my helpers would touch me gently on one shoulder. So I waited awhile, but then felt a touch on my right shoulder, gentle but firm. It couldn't have been her. She was standing across the room. The touchings went on much longer than I'd expected, then one touch was more like a shove, I lost my balance and I burst out laughing because it felt very playful. I repositioned myself and it went just a bit longer. Then it stopped. I waited a couple of minutes but it was over. She told me that I had 19 helpers. She said everyone has helpers and we can use our helpers to speak for us with other people's helpers. I did this several times and was always successful.

So, this week I asked my guardian angels, or helpers, for help. I was massively confused and asked for help finding understanding. That was a couple of days ago. Nothing miraculous happened. I was still confused, but not as anxious or morose. Then, today, out of the blue, I got a call from a paraplegic named Eric. He offered me help and guidance. We didn't get much accomplished during the call, but I explained my problem and told him my goals which seem so impossible to reach. He offered to talk to a friend ofi his who is a doctor, who has information. Eric and I are scheduled to talk again mid-April. He will be away doing some training, he said, until then.

So did my helpers find help for me? Who knows for certain? I like to think they did.

BTW, with the help of the antibiotics I'm taking, my blood sugar is gradually going down. I think it's turned out to be a good day, after all.

Thank you, Elizabeth, for your kind words. They really touched my heart. And thank you to my other friends for your kindnesses and support when I most need it. I wish you all peace and joy in your hearts, always.

Running Up the Down Escalator

Saw my wound care doc today. He's not nearly as pessimistic as my primary doc about getting the orthopedic surgery. Still, I must be careful not to get my hopes up too far.  Anyway, my wounds are healing up nicely so I should be ok to get up in my baby stroller pretty soon. Oh joy. If I don't get to sit outside, it's hardly worth it. That kind of thing seems to be detrimental to my mental health. When I crash, I crash hard. Better not to get my hopes up too high. That way, I don't have as far to fall if things go wrong. I wouldn't say I'm pessimistic. I'm just being cautious.

I don't know how I feel. Surprisingly, I haven't retreated very far into my safe place, Numb Land, but I'm not feeling much of anything. I find it torturous to constantly feel like crying, as if my tears are all lined up, jostling for position to break the dam. Maybe I am somewhat of a control freak, after all -- not to control others, but to control myself. I do not want to succumb to uncontrollable crying.

So I'm engaged in a constant battle inside myself about being a helpless paraplegic.

I'm always dreaming about cats. These dreams comfort me. I enjoy them. It's almost like having a cat of my own to comfort me. But that's neither here nor there.

Still stumped, but not struggling so hard. Just leaning back and learning what I can and practising opening up my heart and soul hoping something will come along that will show me the way to spiritual growth.

I wish your hearts to find peace, and the path to spiritual enlightment. I've caught a glimpse of it. It's wonderful. Much love to you and yours.

Marching in Place

Still stumped. Not feeling as gloom and doom, but don't know why. I'm sure that having two new friends coming to visit on Saturday has something to do with it, though. :-)

I've been watching a lot of documentaries in YouTube today. The subjects were eclectic. Some history, some wildlife, some biography. All kinds of stuff. I like learning new things, so that has cheered me up some too.

I'm making an effort not to feel so much like a caged animal and having some success with that. I feel fortunate that things I've experieced in life have taught me some patience and tolerance. I need those qualities in my current circumstances. I really don't think intelligently when I'm raging uncontrollably and uselessly. I don't think anyone does, really.

Still, I feel trapped. I see no way my life can improve. Maybe there is no way and I'm stuck like this. When that really sinks in and I feel it all the way to my soul, I imagine I'll be going through all the stages of grief again. I may have already started.  Isn't denial the first step? Inside, I've been denying that I will be stuck like this forever. That's been going on for years. I'm still at that stage, but can feel it beginning to fade.and I'm pretty sure i've already worked my way through my anger stage. That happened right away. I was furious with God, mother nature -- you name it. That was irrational since nothing and nobody was responsible. That faded somewhat quickly. I'm not big on casting blame.

So what's next? Hell if I know. But I'm pretty sure I'm nowhere near the stage of acceptance.

My therapist likes to tease me about being stubborn. He's right. I am stubborn. Sometimes that causes me more harm than good, but I can't help it. There's just something in me that doesn't let me give up.

So I will grit my teeth and trudge endlessly in circles until I find a way out. I know in my heart a way out exists. I just don't know what it is yet.

Thanks for your support, all you sweethearts. It's heartening to know that I have you backing me up. Love and peace to you all.

Looking for the Mouse Hole

My mind has been roaming frantically around in my skull, looking for answers and finding nothing. I'm as stymied as I was before. This puzzle seems to have a lot fewer pieces than it should.  It doesn't help that I've only had about an hour's sleep since around 6 pm yesterday. I am, of course, not thinking straight.

That's why this is going to be a short entry.

This morning one of the aides told me that two women in this nursing home tried to commit suicide by starving themselves to death. One didn't succeed. The other did. My heart almost broke, thinking of the anguish they must have felt in order to be that determined to die. So I did a little investigating. People in nursing homes aren't dropping like flies, but, nationwide, there are a fair number of old folks abandoning their lives. And men do it a lot more than women. Guys usually involve guns in their attempts, so they succeed more often.

I'm not sad for their passing, but I am sad -- and angry -- that the older generations are treated so poorly and are not encouraged to take an interest in their surroundings and each other. Of course, I'm one to talk. I spend days upon days lying in my bed at the end of the hall, with a curtain pulled between the door and me. Nobody even knows I'm here.

Well, I don't know what can be done about it, especially when Nursing Home conglomerates keep politicians firmly in their pockets. Pffft.

I can't even solve my own problems. I'm still dragging my poor brain around in circles and always end up at the same place -- nowhere. Maybe some sleep would help.

Sweet dreams, my precious ones. Have a life of joy and wishes that come true.❤

A Blast From the Past

It's been awhile since I've felt so despondent. Seems to me that every time I manage to worm my way up into the sunshine, a big shoe comes along and crushes me. Then a voice goes "Augh!" and I'm scraped off and lay, crushed until the sun shrivels me into a flat, blackened husk.

Maybe it's really not that melodramatic, but that's how it feels at the time. I have to pull myself back together, bit by bit, and start again -- not from exactly the same place, but it's still a massive struggle. My worst enemy is myself. The only good thing I can truly say about myself at this point is that I'm tenacious. 

But now it's as if I am in a box canyon that has three high, sheer walls and a wild, wide river is roaring across the way I came in so I can't go back. I can't swim and I can't climb. There is no way out. I'm completely trapped. And that's how I feel. It is my actuality.

I've cheered myself up before. I went back and read most of my blog, starting from the first entry. I can keep learning about spirituality. It does help temporarily, but my depression and recurring feelings of hopelessness seem to drill straight through my psyche into my soul, and the good feelings run out of me in an endless waterfall. Why is that? Like I said, I'm my own worst enemy. And I'm tired of the constant struggle to find some way to be useful, to have some kind of purpose. Hell, to just find and keep seeing a glimmer of hope.

I've said before that I was traveling a rough, steep road. It was slow, but I felt like I was making progress. That road no longer exists. It is a cul-de-sac with no outlet now. All I can hope for is to go in circles until I can't go any further.

And those dark, dangerous words pop into my head like neon lights: "Then what's the point?"

I'm back at the crossroads. With a difference. I have stopped thinking of suicide as a solution. Problem is, all that leaves is an endless circle. Can't win for losing, it seems.

I suppose, like a mouse in a cage, I will never stop trying to find a way out of this trap. Tenacity is not always a positive quality. I truly have no way to escape. This the way it is and will be until I die, which I sincerely hope will be soon.

I feel a change coming on, though. I don't know if it will be good or bad. Doesn't matter. I will have to deal with it one way or another. But it feels, vaguely, like it will involve more loss. Or maybe I'm just paranoid because of all the losses I've experienced in the past decade. We'll see.

I wish for all of you to experience much love, light and laughter in your lives. And don't fret about me. I seem to be in some kind of transition and transitions are always painful.

❤❤❤

The Worst Blogger in the World

I am, undoubtedly, the most neglectful, most inconsistent and whiniest blogger ever. The smallest setback can make me sit back and howl mournfully at the injustice of it all and get so wrapped up in the fabulous pity party I've thrown for myself that I bury myself in a dark hole with my butt sticking out, thinking no one can see my misery. But it shows. It is about as invisible to others as a circus parade.

I know this, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to hide under my bed and pretend no one knows I'm there.

Maybe you already know that I've been a mostly bed-bound paraplegic for the past four years, due to a bout of meningitis in 2010. And maybe you know that my precious 9 year old daughter succumbed to spinal cancer about a year later. Her daddy, my ex, watches out for me as best he can, but he is a very busy man, and his wife, understandably, is not happy that he spends so much time with me. She's a lovely person with the patience of a saint for not interfering very much with us. But I'm not his responsibility, really, and I will need help and attention until I die. I'm only 65 now, and longevity runs in both sides of my family. What a horrible idea, the thought of living like this until I'm 80 or 90. 

Last visit, my doctor told me that the orthopedic surgery which I must have in order to straighten my legs is very dangerous and risky, more so because my blood sugar is mostly out of control, because I am a diabetic. I told him I was willing to take the risk and he said, "Ah, but will you be able to find a surgeon who is willing to take the risk?"

That hadn't occurred to me. It suddenly seemed impossible that I'd be able to get the surgery. I mean, nobody has slammed that door in my face yet, but it seems likely that they will.

It's like this. For the past four years I've been like someone who has fallen into a raging river but has managed to grab onto a tree root, the hope that I will someday regain some independence, so that I won't be helplessly swept away by my circumstances. Now I wonder, should I give up and let go so that I'm at the mercy of my helplessness, or should I learn, by some miracle, how to keep my head above water? Letting go is easiest. I don't mean suicide, though that's a tempting end to my misery. But it's just not on the agenda right now.

I have no idea how to cope with this dilemma. Continuing as I have been for the past four years is unacceptable. But I haven't quite reached the point where I'm not willing or just simply am unable to hang onto that tree root anymore.

Frankly, the past four years have exhausted me, physically and emotionally. I'm so awfully tired of being shut up in a nursing home, spending most of my time alone, almost as if I'm in solitary confinement. I'm weary of being helpless and having only a miniscule amount of independence. Oh, I can brush my hair, but somebody moved the bag it's hidden in across the room where I can't reach it. Hell, I can't even see it. I'd keep my brush on my table, nearby, but after having four brushes stolen, I learned to hide it.

I have to face the fact that my situation is probably going to be like this for the rest of my life. Without the orthopedic surgery, there is no other option except to remove myself from reality. And I believe that if I'm forced to live like this for many more years, that will happen. I would want it to. Sometimes in my dreams I manage to make it happen. This morning when I woke up I was in bed at my parents' house. I could hear the tv, and they were talking, so I knew they were in the living room, each in their recliner, dad probably watching a golf game and mom reading a book. It was so real, so safe, so reassuring.  But then two of the aides came in and bounced me around, turning me from one side to the other. I couldn't sleep through that, so I opened my eyes and gradually realized where I really was. If only I could have stayed asleep, or had a waking dream.

This is prison. This is hell. This is my reality and my future. If only I could die in dignity with someone I love holding and comforting me. But that won't happen. I will doubtless be alone, but hopefully Lyra's spirit will greet me and guide me back Home where I can recover. This life has been a rough one, overall. I'm ready for a rest.

Dream on, friends. No matter how bad it gets, there is an end to that, and then you can rest. Beyond this life awaits beauty, joy, comfort and boundless love. My spirit yearns for that and, one day, I will go there. See you there one of these days.

Love you all. Peace.