Attitude of Gratitude

Awhile back I posted three to five things I was grateful for in a gratitude journal every day. I was amazed at what a difference it made in my perspective on life. Don't know why I stopped. I hit a brick wall, I guess, and lost my way.

Seems to me that making a daily list here would help keep my blog from spiraling into the depths of despair. So I am going to add this habit to the beginning of my blog and see what comes from it.

I am grateful for:

Letting go of my lifelong habit of always keeping my emotions in control, challenging as it is to forge forward without an effective defense mechanism.

The result of letting go of being under strict self-control means that I am more capable of being more spontaneous. And I'm finding that to be a lot of fun.

My children, Josi and Mike. I'm proud of both of them. I'm grateful that we have a loving relationship, even though we live far apart.

My capability of patience and tolerance. They grew out of my now-defunct defense mechanism, but apparently didn't need to be sacrificed along with it. I'm grateful for that. They make my life much more tolerable.

I think that's all I'll do for tonight. There are other things that are chaotically whirling around in my mind but I'm  too confused about them to say anything sensible.

May your lives be full of grace and may you have multitudes of things to be grateful for.  Love, joy and peace to all.

Lyra, about 18 months. A fantastic reason for me to be grateful.

Summoning Up My Feisty Soul

My blood sugar has been hovering from the 300s to the 600s since before last Christmas. Unfortunately, they've had no success at sending me to see an endocrinilogist so nobody really knows why my blood sugar is so high. The easiest reason to blame is what I eat. So every time I see a doctor or nurse, I am inevitably bombarded with accusations that I'm eating too many carbohydrates and sweets so I am to blame for this high blood sugar by making bad food choices. The fact is they don't know what I'm eating. I try to tell them but they don't believe me. They all but call me a liar. Meanwhile, I'm convinced that something is going wrong in my body. I'm not a doctor so I can only guess. Maybe my liver is creating too mant glucogens. Maybe my pancreas isn't producing insulin at all anymore. Maybe I've become more resistent to insulin. I'm just a layman living inside this body. Imagine what a doctor might discover that I don't have any knowledge about. The body is a complicated, intricate organism.

I'm pretty fed up at these accusations and dismissals of my opinions. In fact, I finally blew my top when tonight's nurse accused me of eating some bbq sauce on my sandwich because it is "so sugary." I had two tablespoons, which is one serving and contains 16 grams of sugar. A teaspoon of sugar is hardly going to shoot my blood sugar into the 400s. She also accused me of drinking regular Doctor Pepper and blamed that for my high blood sugar. Except that was diet Doctor Pepper. She didn't even bother to look. See why I'm frustrated and angry? I am being treated like a stupid, willful child and I am far from being that.

There's nothing I can do about this except see an endocrinologist and I'm going to have to raise hell to get them to make an appointment for me. They've been promising for months. So I guess I'll become a big pest about it.

I'm trying to think positive. I really am. But I feel like I'm in a fight without any weapons.  And I feel as if I'm being blamed, square-on, for my high blood sugar. I'm not stupid. I know what foods are healthy for me to eat. I have no way of procuring them, however. I suppose I'm just supposed to magically pull them out of thin air because this place certainly doesn't provide healthy food.

I'm planning to put all this aside as much as I can and concentrate on how it felt to run along the Gulf of Mexico and feel the sand and the waves squish between my toes and how, if I stood still and just let the shallow waves wash across my feet, how my feet would sink until they were covered by the wet sand. Since, as a child, I only lived 45 miles from the beach, there were many, many fun trips down there with family and friends.

I don't much like my life at the moment. I think I'll retreat to better days. That, and remembering playing barefoot in deep, green summer grass. I can almost smell it.

Angels, please help me find tranquility and help those around me take action to allow me to get well. Also, please surround me with love so I don't feel so alone. Thank you. Also, please give my love to my little spirit, Lyra, to let her know I love her just as much as when she shared this earth with us. Many thanks. ❤

I wish all of you love, comfort and tranquility. And fun -- lots of fun.

Mischievous Me

It happened again. I don't know what has gotten into me, but I just can't seem to stop myself. One of my friends on Facebook posted something that prompted people to begin a discussion about vegetarianism. I don't mind if people stop eating meat as long as they don't want me to stop eating meat, too. But a lot of people get really worked up about it, almost as worked up as Christian proselytizers, and they practically foam at the mouth about why it's bad to eat meat. Not all vegetarians are this way, but there are a few of them who have crossed my path. 

I'm an omnivore and don't plan to change my ways. I've heard all the many reasons I should feel guilty, even that I should feel guilty about how badly animals are treated in commercial establishments while the animals are still alive.

If those commercial producers would listen to me, I would give them a tongue lashing that would make their ears bleed and they would change their ways. But they don't care what I think. I think they're irresponsible inhumane goons, for what it's worth. But I can't do anything about it. Hell, I don't even have a choice of what I eat anymore, most of the time. That's one of the drawbacks of living in an institution.

I may be a bit defensive about being an omnivore after those numerous lectures. Probably am. So I started talking about how plants feel pain and scream when they're picked and cooked or eaten in a salad. I ended the post, "How could you?"

Oh, boy. That livened up the discussion. They really set me straight about how that's not true. I was even told by my friend that the participant who was arguing the most vehemently is a Botonist, so I should believe her.

I just replied, "Heh heh heh"

I don't know if they got that I had been putting them on or not, or whether they got miffed. I haven't checked to see if there was any reaction. That's the problem with being mischievous. The outcome is usually uncertain. The best thing about it is that it makes me laugh, anyway.

Us bedbound paraplegics gotta get our laughs where we can.

Happiness to the lot of you. And if you were a participant in the aforementioned discussion, no malice was meant. I hope you can find the humor there.

Naughty Girl

Sometimes I can't help myself. There is a streak of mischief in me that I commonly supress, but sometimes, especially when I feel rebellious, it just jumps out unexpectedly and, even while I'm being mischievous, I am astonished at myself. Neverthless, it pleases me. I become quite cheerful afterward.

Today I wasn't really all that bad. A very nice man, who contacted me after I joined the National Association for Spinal Injuries ( or something like that) visited me today. He's is going to advocate for me to see if he can get a doctor friend of his to take on my orthopedic surgery. I don't know what else he does. We'll see.

My naughtiness popped up when we started talking about Christianity. He is evidently a devoted Christian. I told him that I was not. I told him that I believe there is something greater than we are and that I love Jesus of Nazareth, but I cannot and will never believe that accepting Jesus as one's savior is the only way to reach heaven; that there are many, many pathways to reach Heaven. I told him that I believe God is pure love and wouldn't turn souls away because of what religion they believe in.

Then he said that the Bible says it's true. And I said that the Bible isn't always right

I should have shut up at the start of the conversation, but my inner imp was on a roll. Unfortunately, I never had a chance to tell him that my beliefs are just for myself,  squeezed out of events and experiences in my life and whatever he believed was all right with me. I wasn't saying he was wrong or that I was right. All I said was just me, as a traveller wandering through life, looking for my own pathway.

So, keep in mind, if my imp suddenly makes an appearance, don't take it too seriously. It'll quickly disappear again and I'll return to being morose and a deep-thinker again.

Sorry about missing my blog yesterday. I'm not awfully sure anybody's reading it, except for two or three friends. It's good to have an audience but, as any of you who are writers,know, it's a solitary endeavor and if you're writing to get accolades, you're probably going to be disappointed.

Anyway, yesterday I got involved in watching Doctor Who episodes starring David Tennant (yum!) and lost track of time. No excuse. I was just mesmerized. :-)

Have a happy day of distractions, peeps. Every now and then your brain needs a rest. ❤

Drool!

Rock-a-Billy Bedtime

A couple of aides came in earlier to do my peri-care and change the sheets on my bed. One of them had something attached to her uniform that was playing rock and rap music, but very quietly. 

I said, "Wanna see me dance?"

The other aide said, "You can dance?" She didn't believe me.

I said, "Hell yeah! I can ROCK  this bed!" And I started to dance.

The first aide turned up the music. Then both aides started to dance, too. We were having a Dance Partay!

It was lots of fun. It didn't last long, but it didn't need to. We were all grinning like a bunch of Cheshire cats. It really cheered up all three of us.

So I guess the answer when I have the doldrums is to turn on "Boom Boom Pow!" and give in to the beat.

I will never be a professional dancer, but I can move my arms, shoulders and head in inventive ways. And I can grin.

Come on , fellow travelers. Try dancing while you're sitting down. You'll be surprised at what you can do from there. And it's a lot of fun to do.

Have a groovy time. Dancing is outta sight. Do that as much as you can. If it's against your religion, surely sitting down and waving your arms in the air is OK. I hope so.

Love and peace and so much joy that you can't resist grinning like a Cheshire cat. ❤

Rebel Without a Cause

The hardest mood for me to deal with is "fight or flight" because I'm unable to do either. A nurse, who is new to this hall, argued with me because the aides were about to clean my peri area with a hospital version of Wet Wipes. I had been told by my regular nurse, who is familiar with my care, not to let the aides use them to clean me because they're bad for my skin. So I told the aides not to use them. The new nurse charged in like a pit bull at a neighborhood dog fight and started arguing with everything I said like it was a presidential debate and the world would be doomed if she didn't win. . She was so aggressive and fierce I gave up. She wasn't listening anyway. It was a case where she didn't believe me. How could an old woman like me, who lives in a nursing home, know anything about my own care? Hah! Impossible!

That was sarcasm. I could not reach her and that frustrated me because I really wanted to get up, feint with my left and then give her a good punch in the nose with my right. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't do anything, as usual.

I wonder what would happen if I gave in and screamed at the top of my lungs (and when I use my Sgt. Mom voice I am LOUD) to express how frustrated I am? My conscience is telling me that I would scare the bejabbers out of old folks here, possibly send some of them away to the afterlife, and, worst of all, confuse my roommate who doesn't need any help in that direction. So I can't do that, either.

Darn.

There's just nowhere for me to put all these emotions except inside me. And I can't vent them on anyone but myself. This is not a healthy situation, but I don't have any ideas on how to handle it.

So I'm not only a rebel without a cause, I'm a rebel with nobody to rebel against except myself. Circles. More and more circles. That's the way my life is right now. Same old same old.

And I'm bouncing off the walls inside my skull. I guess I need to keep practising my tolerance and patience instead of spinning my wheels. That doesn't get me anywhere. So que será será, right? What will be will be.

Pull your sombreros down over your eyes, prop your feet up on a chair and relax. What's so important that it can't wait for a siesta? I plan to siesta as much as possible, amigos. You all get a good rest, too.

Love you.

Personal Time

I wasn't running away when I skipped writing the past few days' blogs. I was trying to get my head straight. Spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling. That is, after I stopped crying and could focus my vision agaIn. I got really angry, mostly at myself, which is what I have tended to do throughout my life when things go wrong or I make a mistake. Couple that with the frustration of not being able to do anything about it and you get a hysterical anxiety attack complete with hitting the only person within reach. That would be me. I didn't put any force behind it, in order to avoid bruises. At the peak of my sorrow and anger and frustration, i exercised tremendous restraint. I did not scratch bloody gouges in my arms and face, which would have certainly helped distract me from my inner pain, but decided that would probably land me in a hellhole of a psych ward, possibly in restraints which would make my life much, much worse. Besides, I didn't deserve to be hurt that way.

Eventually I indulged myself by watching a lot of interesting documentaries. One of those was "The illusion of Time", a Nova show. It was thought-provoking. I recommend it. I couldn't help applying their ideas about time to the way my life has been the past four years. They said, in spite of the way we manage to sync time all over the world, the reality is that we each experience time in our own way. You know, like it seems to take forever to reach your cabin on the lake when you're heading out on vacation, but time seems to fly when you're kissing and snuggling with your sweetie. It's totally a subjective experience.

I suppose a lot of people visualize time as a never-ending line that stretches behind them and ahead of them. I always envisioned it as a spiral, like a spring. Now I don't know.  Scientists say that time and space are inseparable. What does this have to do with my situation? Not sure. It's just fun to think about.

All I know is that the less that things happen in my life, the faster time seems to go. You'd think it'd be the opposite, but when things disrupt my usual routine of nothingness, time seems to slow down so I can pay closer attention to them.

My therapist, today, suggested I talk to the administrator here like I write. He said my writing is eloquent. Alas, they are two very different forms of communication. I wish I had the administrator's email address. I'd send him an email. But he's just a pawn of the corporate office. I don't know if he has much, if any, power. He did visit me, pat my hand and advise that I think happy thoughts. This was  when I was in the throes of my panic attack. I was crying too hard to say anything, which was fortunate, because if I had been capable of expressing myself, I would have guffawed in his face at the ludicrous ineffectiveness of what he said. I think he means well and wasn't just being idiotic, though.

Anyway, I've calmed down. I still feel like somebody stomped on me with hobnail boots.  And I'm weary of the fight, almost as defeated as I was the time my second husband, drunk and stoned, held a knife across my throat. I told him, "oh go ahead. Kill me  and put me out of my misery." But mostly I just feel like sleeping. It's the only kind of break a person in my situation gets. Handicapped folks don't get vacations from their disabilities. Wish we could. Wouldn't that be great?

Peace. May your lives be eventful in positive ways. ❤

What's the Use?

It's hard to explain exactly what happened because I couldn't get a good explanation out of anyone. Seems I'm no longer considered a "skilled" patient by Medicare because they have a 100 day limit on that. But I didn't know that. I found out today. Then I found out that the nursing home had withdrawn their payment from my account yesterday. But I hadn't known that was going to happen, either. So I suddenly found that my account was more than $200 short. And no way to bring it up to a positive amount again. Without imposing horribly on someone else in order to make up the difference. I hate that, because I can't pay him back.

I know I seem strong, but that's an illusion. I'm really very fragile, emotionally. I've fought and struggled up every rung of progress I've made in the past few years. But now I feel as if I have slid down nearly every rung. Not quite to the bottom. Not quite. 

I feel like such an idiot, a parasite, a useless burdensome lump. That's because I am all of those things. There is no purpose to my life. That's a reality I try to ignore and go through the motions of trying to change, but it's there, a monolith of uselessness that is always there, stopping me dead whenever I think I'm making a little progress.

I can't wish this away. I can pretend that I'm learning things that are making me more spiritual, but when it comes down to it, I'm really just an insignificant worm grubbing in the dirt at the bottom of my hole where I always end up again. 

I'm awfully weary of this kind of (non)existence. Don't worry. Suicide is still off the table, but I can always hope that an anvil will fall on my head.

This is my most gloomy, least hopeful, most defeated entry in a good, long while. I loathe my life. It just gets worse, never better. Oh, yeah, it sometimes seems like things are getting better, but it's just a teasing joke, as I inevitably realize. And I apologize. You must be weary of reading about my never-ending struggles and defeats. So I'm going to stop for now. My blog must be dragging you down. I wonder at the wisdom of continuing.

I really do love you guys and wish you well. We all have our struggles, I know, and mine are no worse or more important than any of yours. Fare well, friends. You deserve only the best.

Lyra and me, the last time I saw her. She died two days later. Sweet angel.

Bits of Me Are Falling Off

I do not have fingernails. I have claws. My nails get ridiculously long because only a nurse is allowed to cut them due to me being diabetic, as if the nurses here have time to be beauticians, too. Right now the nail on my right little finger is longer than the distance from the top of that finger to the first knuckle. There's only one problem. When my nails get this long they tend to break off -- the entire nail, down to the quick.

This happened yesterday to the thumbnail on my left hand. The entire nail was hanging loose, except at the cuticle on the side, about 1/16 of an inch's worth. Nothing was within reach that I could use to snip it off. I tried to gently and carefully detach it. No success. So I got a good grip on the chunk of thumbnail and yanked hard. That did the trick. It hurt like hell, but not as badly as it did when I applied alcohol to the bloody opening I had just created.

So it hurts, still, like the unholy dickens. Reminds me of when my mom used to put mercurochrome on my scrapes and cuts. Talk about sting! I'm so glad nobody in this country uses that stuff anymore. I think it has been discontinued in larger countries because it contains mercury. 

I'm not sure if that's the problem. When I was a kid I played with mercury. It's fascinating stuff, all silvery and thickish, and it rolls around in your hand like something from outer space. Had a lot of fun with it. But I was never curious to see how it tasted. That probably saved me. What can I say? It was a time of innocence -- and unbelievable ignorance. I was actually taught in 4th grade that gravity was caused by the spinning of the earth. If I had known anything about the effects of centrifugal force, that probably would have sounded ludicrous to me. But I was just a dumb 9 year old. What did I know?

Feeling kind of reckless lately. I've been dancing in my bed. I have to brag a little. For a paraplegic, I can really rock this bed. I downloaded "Boom Boom Pow" by The Blackeyed Peas and just couldn't resist. I get tired pretty quickly, but what should I expect after lying in bed for four years? Dancing is really a mood-raiser for me. I've always loved to dance, from when I took ballet for a little while when I was 7. Being paraplegic won't stop me. You can bet on that.

Unfortunately, I rarely get any privacy during the day and I'm awfully tired late at night. But I'll work it out somehow.

Dance dance dance until you can't dance anymore. It's good for your heart and your soul. Celebrate life, no matter what struggles you have. Dancing makes your path smoother and brighter. I know this to be true. Trust me.

Much peace and love to you all.

Kickin' Back

No deep thoughts to share. Norhing much happening. Not worrying about stuff. Also not eating breakfast or lunch. I generally sleep through them. Still, my fasting blood sugar is over 200 and jumps to high 300s hours after I do eat.  Now and then it spikes up into the extremely high 400s and low 500s. I keep telling them something's wrong with my body. Maybe, if I ever get to see one, an endocrinologist can figure it out.

I don't feel any worse at 500 than I do at 100, so I'm not awfully concerned, but I really don't want to have a debilitating stroke and end up worse off than I am now. So I do have a vested interest in getting my blood sugar under control. I have no idea how to accomplish that, so I'm hoping they'll set up the appointment with the endocronologist soon.

Other than that concern, I've spent a lot of time watching mysteries on Netflix and a bunch of documentaries on Youtube and catching up with my favorite tv shows on Hulu+. It's very relaxing. Just what I needed. :-)

So, no pity party today, folks. Just gliding along and not fretting about things I have no control over, which is almost everything. Cynicism is my companion during this break. It helps me keep from giving into mental hysteria.

Besides, my very best friend in the world is coming to visit me this month. I'm really looking forward to that because we haven't seen each other in two years. Also, she is a phenomenal cook and she's already cooking up treats like pork stew and caponata, which is an Italian vegetable dish that is best when it's cold. And it's practically my most favorite dish.

Also, my firstborn is coming for a visit toward the end of May. I've missed her, and my son, dreadfully. I really wish they didn't live so far from me, but I understand they are adults with lives of their own. Besides, there's really nothing in Oklahoma for them except me. I brought them up to be independent and guess I did a good job of it.

For a change, I feel sleepy at a reasonable time of night. Yesterday, well really today, I didn't fall asleep until 6 am. So it's time now to crash.

May you all live your lives in peace and contentment. Don't worry. Be happy. And shine with all your might. :-) ❤

Living in a Labyrinth

Lots of dead ends down here where I live. I enjoy doing labyrinths on paper, because I start at the end and work my way to the beginning. It's amazing how much easier that is. OK, it's cheating, but I enjoy cheating at games. Most of the fun of playing games, for me, is figuring out how to beat the system. That's much more challenging than just playing it straight.

Too bad I can't do that in real life. I suppose I could have run cons on people. I'm smart and I'm a very convincing liar, the few times I have actually manipulated a situation by being untruthful. Usually, I just did it when I wanted to leave work. I was so good at that, I wouldn't even have to lie. My supervisor would take one look at me and insist I go home and take a sick day. As a rule, though, I rarely did it for any other reason, and certainly not to my friends and family. I'm much too empathetic. My concience would have tortured me .Maybe I should have chosen a career as an actress. Oh, well. Too late now.

I seem to be in a dormant stage, as far as making progress goes. My mind has pretty much gone on vacation in a far away place. Guess it needs to kick back and rest awhile. Makes sense. I've hit so many dead-ends in the labyrinth I've been trying to maneuver for the last four years, I've run out of steam. I need to take a break. Obviously I can't take a break from being a paraplegic, though I've accepted the reality of my handicap. But I don't accept that being helpless and dependent has to continue to be my reality. There's still a chance that things can improve and I will not acquiece to accepting that as my reality until there simply is no hope of improvement.

But, while I wait to get evaluated by an orthopedic surgeon to see if one will accept the challenge and risk of performing the surgery I need, I guess I'll take a break from all the anxiety and fear that I'll be stuck this way forever. If they turn me down, then I guess I'll have to cross that bridge, even though I don't really want to.

I'm sleepy. Not enough sleep again. I've lost count of all the typos I've corrected and doubt seriously if I caught them all, so try to ignore those.

Sweet, restful sleep, peeps. May all your days be filled with happiness and contentment.

Running as Fast as I Can -- Not Very Fast at All

I can't outrun my troubles. They're part of me. But I'm struggling to make sense of all this. It feels like I've been abandoned in a totally foreign country with no way to leave, but where I don't know anybody and don't speak or understand the language. The authorities have taken control so I don't know where this is headed. 

But I refuse to give up on regaining some independence. I know things will never be the same as they used to be, but I will fight to get the ability to use a wheelchair that I can control, and to work as hard as I can in physical therapy, as soon as I qualify for it, to strengthen myself physically. So I will continue to push to get the orthopedic surgery which is necessary for these other things to happen. As long as there's a chance my life and independence can improve I will not give up. I can't. That streak of stubborness that runs through me won't allow me to.

I don't dwell on the things I've lost, except Lyra. Those other things were just stuff. I can barely remember what they were anymore. It's not the first time I've lost nearly everything I've owned. That time I came to the conclusion that I hadn't lost anything that I couldn't forget, do without, or replace. It was just a bunch of stuff, when all was said and done.

But the truth is, I very much dislike, even hate, my physical situation. I hope with all my heart that it can be improved upon. If it turns out that there's no hope of improvement, then I'll have to find some way of coping with that. I'm not there, yet, but have been deeply considering that possibility.

I don't have any answers at the moment because the questions have not truly announced themselves yet. They're just whispers on the wind.

I do have a good idea of what I need to do, spiritually. I'm exploring ways to get there. When something speaks to me, I explore that pathway. Sometimes it's extremely helpful. Sometimes I'm either not ready for it or it smacks of charlatism and I search out another path.

But I never, ever stand still -- only if I drift or plummet into deep depression and hopelessness. That stops me dead, so I do everything I'm able to avoid that, even if that takes closing myself in for awhile.

I'm feeling a little defensive. I am doing the best I can, climbing until my hands are bloody and fighting my own demons all the while. It's often slow going. I have to take this at my own pace. As long as I'm not going backwards, I'm happy about where I am at this moment. The darkness around me is gradually growing lighter. That lets me know I'm heading in the right direction.

Light be with you as you travel your own paths, my beautiful friends and family.  Much love.

Only the Lonely

When I was 5, we lived in such a tiny Texas town that there were no other kids my age to play with. I grew extremely comfortable with playing by myself. My sister played with me some, but she was the lofty age of 8 and I was too much of a baby to interest her.

My dad was a band teacher so, in the fall, the band members would pile into a school bus to perform at football games in surrounding tiny towns. All the high school girls thought I was just the cutest little thing so i was always sitting on one or other of their laps. Then, with tremendous school spirit they would yell cheers at the tops of their lungs. Right into my ears. It was incredibly uncomfortable for me and I hated it.

Also, both my parents were teachers, so every school day, they and my sister went to 

this magical place called "school." I wanted to go, too. For a 5 year old I mustered up quite a lot of envy and resentment. So I refused to talk. Oh, I'd talk to my immediate family members but no one else, including the sweet old couple who babysat me, never heard the sound of my voice. Also, I wouldn't let anyone except my immediate family touch me.

Around the age of 19 I got tired of being stand-offish so I made myself tolerate being hugged and kissed. I gritted my teeth a lot at first, but gradually I got to where I enjoyed it. By the time I had a child, I was very huggy and affectionate.

So I got to where I really enjoyed being around people and making new friends. I was still a little shy, but not afraid or angry any more.

Then, at the age of 61 I became a paraplegic and was hidden away in a nursing home where I spend a huge majority of my time alone. Sometimes I'm comfortable with it, but then the loneliness creeps in again. It's almost a physical pain. My stomach ties itself in knots and I can feel that my heart is full of desolate tears that I can't seem to release.

So this is my reality. It's come full circle. Sixty years ago I was alone most of the time. Now I'm back there. It's funny how life works, isn't it? It's almost as if this was planned in advance. Perhaps it was.

If I'm anything, I'm adaptable. I just have to work at it harder sometimes. This is one of those times.

Enjoy your moments of solitude, friends. They can be awfully beneficial for you. But it can develop into too much of a good thing, believe me. But if you can balance your life, I believe you will be all right.

Love you. Try to learn your life lessons without self-pity or despair. I've been there. Still am, most of the time. But when I achieve acceptance and gratitude for what I've learned, brief as those moments are, it's as if I get a glimpse of the other side of my life. It's wonderful. Again, this is something I must learn and practise. And I must do it without trying. Seems paradoxical, doesn't it. But it makes sense to me.

Light and love and laughter. May they grace your existence without end.

There is That in Me..

I'll quote an excerpt from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass:

"There is that in me.

I do not know what it is, but I know it is in me.

To it the Creation is the embrace of the friend who awakens me.

. . . . . . . . 

"It has no name

It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.

Something it swings on more than the Earth I swing on...."

. . . . . . . . . . 

That's not the complete poem, but are the parts that speak most loudly to me.  I'm an emotional wreck and Walt Whitman's poetry soothes me while, at the same time, it makes me think deeply.

I've heard about being on an emotional roller coaster. Nothing quite so simple for me. It's more like being caught up in an emotional tornado. I have no idea where this will take me. I could shut my feelings down and hide back in The Land of Numbness, where I lived for a few years but I don't want to go back there, safe as I felt. I know I must have the courage to love people -- all people -- unconditionally. I say courage because it's impossible to love without making one's self vulnerable, especially in this world.

It's there inside me. All of it, joy and tolerance and love without conditions. I have seen and felt it in quick flashes and it's so beautiful! But I don't know how to reach it and hold onto it, short of giving up this earthly existence.

 Maybe I'm overthinking this. I'm never relaxed and I have an extremely busy and noisy brain, i don't know how to slow it down so I can concentrate on meditation. I feel meditating would be extremely helpful in my situation.

My mind is running in circles again. No need to bore anyone by going over the same things, time after time, so I'll stop now.

Peace and  the light of unconditional love to all of you.