Here I Go Again

Sorry it's been so long since I wrote my blog. I pretty much backed away from everything and everybody for awhile because I was so directionless and confused that even my own thoughts were like trying to walk through a whirlwind.

I had been working on tearing down the walls of my best and most effective defense mechanism, which was excellent when I was in grades 5 through 12, but had the unfortunate effect of shutting out a lot of emotions and spontaneity when I became an adult. But I made one major error. I didn't have anything ready to take its place. Like I told my therapist, I was like a hit and run victim for any emotion that came along. They were out of control, and I had some panic attacks that proved it.

So I pulled back into my cave to try and sort things out. It was not a good existence, but was necessary if I didn't want my life to become one long panic attack.

The good part of trying that panic-filled experiment was that it loosened up my inhibitions a bit. When I hear catchy music, I just start dancing and don't care who sees me. I'm sure I look comical, reclining in bed with my arms waving, shoulders twitching and moving my torso around as best I can. If someone sees me, then fine. They can dance, too. The last time was when I was listening to Slacker Radio and they played "Staying Alive" by the BeeGees. I just couldn't help myself.

So I'm having more fun now.

Then I was blessed with a visit from my best friend and, awhile later, from my daughter, Josi, who lives too far away from me to visit often. That visit was wonderful. It really lifted my spirits.

Oh, by the way, I may be mentioning Dialectical Behavior Therapy a lot. I read an overview of it and, from what I could tell, it looks a lot like what I'd come up with to make my life easier. I was attracted to it because it is structured, so much better than what I have been doing, which was bouncing around different ideas like an out of control super-bouncy-ball which had been thrown into a tiny empty closet. That was exhausting, because I was the ball.

From now on, my mottos will be, "que será será," "c'est la vie" and "shit happens." 

So root for me. Right now I'm still riding the high from my daughter's visit, but that won't last forever, and dark days are sure to roll in like unexpected thunderstorms. Me, myself and I will be working to learn how not to get struck by emotional lightning when they arrive.

Love and serenity to you all. ❤️

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.