Independence and Connotation

So, since I am unable to do much of what has lately filled my time, I find myself thinking, and consequently, I guess I will put my thoughts down here.  For better or worse. 

In the bathtub just now, I was reflecting on independence.  A word that is commonly used with it is fierce.  But after having it and losing it repeatedly, I see that the word fierce is just place-holding for the word pride.  People! are proud of themselves when they accomplish stuff.  "Look Mom, see how high I can swing!"  Its ingrained in us from super young that its a good, advantageous, and desirable to be able to do things ourselves, and to need help is a weakness.  And to ask for help, that's more than just a little lame.  No one wants to ask for help.  Not at any age.  Kids fail in school because they didn't ask for help and no one noticed that help was needed.  Folks fail at jobs because help was needed but fear of weakness was greater.  Marriages fail because therapy is seen to be asking for help.  Elderly folks fall because they won't use a cane when they get unstable.  That's what we've gotta get around.  I need a lot of help again in life.  For a long time, I didn't, but now I do again.  I can't drive myself anywhere.  I can't take a load of laundry out of the wash.   I can't pick up a full gallon of milk.  I mean, I could do all those things, if I didn't care about myself or my safety, or the safety of others.  Physically, its possible for me to drive.  I can sit there and turn the car on, and get going down the street.  But, I am physically unable to grip the steering wheel properly, which, I think we can all agree is a ginormous problem in itself.  And I'm unable to move my foot rapidly enough, or have strength enough in my leg to use the brake at the necessary time.   Also, I can take a load of laundry out of the washer physically.  It might sublux my shoulder, elbow, or any part of my wrist  and hand to do it.  And even if I manage not to injure a joint, it is incredibly painful to go through those motions.  I physically require rest after doing the task.  The same with milk.  I can lift it, but the agony I force myself to endure in doing so, instead of asking for help, feels like disrespect to myself and my situation and my needs.  So, I'm not defiant in the face of my dependence.  It is what is, right now.  And I have HUGE respect for myself and all I have survived and endured to live to see this very day.  So, I will ask for help whenever, wherever, and often.  Because the fierce was let go years ago.  Because the pride has forever fallen away.  And very importantly, because people in the world want to help.  By giving them the opportunity, I give them a chance to do a good thing.  And 2 other folks might see that good thing.  And those 2 folks might post on social media about the good thing.  And then, by asking for help, I have made a positive ripple.  Which empowers me.  Needing help doesn't equate weakness.  It is strength that asks for assistance.  It is wisdom which recognizes limits and seeks aide.  I'm empowered by my dependence.  It would be lovely to not have had to ask Tim to bring my wheelchair from my bedroom to the kitchen where I was on the floor, but I needed it.  And he did it.  And however he felt about doing it for me, I know he was glad to help me up off the floor.  And I hold no shame with it.  I think fierceness needs to apply to protection of our self-respect, rather than our independence. 

My .02 today.
May you all feel as blessed as you actually are. 
Marie

Dramatic Morning

And just like that, everything changes dramatically.  Again.  All it took was organ music.  Hours later, I still cannot walk.  Searing pain, all over.  Fuzzy thinking.  Freezing cold, everywhere.  It’s been so long, the best part of a year and a half, since pain like this has been with me.  I was trying to untangle it on the way home from church and explain the sensation to Tim.  I compared it to a bell being rung, and more importantly to the subsequent sensation of ringing that lingers.  That’s what I feel in my bones.  It feels like my skeleton, all of it, is ringing, or buzzing, or something like that.  He said the organ must have hit “Marie’s resonance frequency”. Lol.  

It makes some sense in my head because, my connective tissues are looser than they should be, therefore, my skeleton is not held together tightly.  But instead, I am loosely constructed.  So, I vibrate more.  And the more I vibrate, the more my nervous system is stimulated, and the more subsequent pain.  Which is why I have brought my cane out and why I will be using my wheelchair for the unforeseeable future.  My sweet T brought my laptop to my bedroom for me, so I could capture these thoughts.  I can’t even walk while holding it.  Which means no driving.  Which means no volunteering with babies.  Which means no handling unknown dogs at the shelter.  Which means setting no cat traps.  So, today, I’ve lost a lot. 

But, it’s all just a chapter.  I don’t know how long this one will be.  But, another change will come again.  So, all is not lost.  Just some.  And not forever.  Just for a while.  I might regain function tomorrow.  Or not until June.  Or not until 2022.  But it is possible.  Because with God, all things are possible.  And if I am anything in this life, I am with God. 

I have been, and continue to be, so very, very blessed.

Life Can Be More Than Descendants

I have had this on my mind for a little bit now.    It is because I am so well, physically, mentally, socially, etc that I want to address this now.  Mostly, I hope that by writing it, I can make more sense of it and get it off my chest, where it now lies.

My own life is not lessened by the fact that I never had children.  My funeral will be less crowded, surely, but that does not mean I am less loved or that the impact I had was less meaningful or important.  I don't get to have anybody I raised return to me during the year, at holidays, or call me on my birthday, celebrating me.  I don't have grand-mothering to look forward to.   And I am ok with it because I have to be.  It is what is.  So, I accept it. 

The only social media I'm on anymore is FaceBook, and I've left most of the support groups I used to spend time and energy within.  So, my information is coming from other healthy folks, folks who don't live with illness every day.  And, what I interpret is that being a parent generally validates a life, and without that experience, many have no idea how they would carry on.  This is so insulting to me.

It is lovely that any one of our lives reach so far and wide that churches fill for funerals, but, that doesn't mean her life is better in the eyes of Our Lord than mine is.  I will fill a few rows, maybe.  That's just how my life has unfolded.  My journey.  Circumstances prevented me from touching the lives of others as I might have for over half of my life.    And now, at age 50, I just want to say, I count.  Even though I'm not a mother.  My life counts.  Even though my progeny will not fill any pews in any churches at the time of my death.

Maybe "the most important thing you ever did" shouldn't be raising a child.  Maybe it should be focusing on one's own emotional and mental health enough so a maladapted and emotionally stunted child doesn't get raised.

I'm blessed this year in ways I couldn't have dared to hope for.  I feel well.  I've discovered adaptations and management techniques that have kept me feeling this way for most of the last year, which is a record since 2005.  Holidays can be a difficult time when everyone who we're related to and love isn't present to celebrate with us.   I think we all feel the sting of love turned to grief especially at this time of year.    But, if you know folks like me in your world, maybe speak a bit less about how your life would be meaningless without your child.    Because my life is without one.  And I am equally meaningful in the only eyes that matter.  His eyes. 

May you all be blessed,
Marie

And she ran....

Well not really running, running.  Not like trying to save myself from a bear.  Just three mini-steps above speed walking, but, still firmly in the jogging category.   

It happened this morning, completely spontaneously.  I didn't work towards it.  It wasn't a goal.  I just listened to my body speak, and it said "let's run, let's play".  So I did.  I had both dogs and I broke into my run so often and for so long that my little dog got worn out.  She's got short Corgi legs.    And it was thrilling.     Ab.So.Lutely. Thrilling.

Three years ago in November,  I'd frequently walk my dogs from my wheelchair, clipping their leashes to the chair.  We'd pretend they were sled dogs, lol.  I'd sing Jingle Bells at the top of my lungs and make up dog-related lyrics.  Two years ago in November, I couldn't even leave my bedroom because of the multi-month migraine that struck.   Last year, I walked a half-marathon.  This year, I ran.  And, it's not over.  There's still 11 days left for all the fabulousness. 

It's been a lovely fall.  I am back to volunteering weekly at Children's Health as a pal for any patient who is alone.  Last Thursday was all babies.   I have begun volunteering on behalf of animals now, as well.  Twice a week I dedicate time to their cause.  Monday nights, I help the Trap-Neuter-Release program in my town by going out to feral colonies and setting traps and helping take the kitties in to be sterilized the next morning.  On Friday mornings, I assist the photographer at the shelter, interacting with dogs who need to be photographed.  I usually stay at the shelter for another hour or more after pictures are done, walking dogs, and socializing with cats.  Some Saturdays I go back and spend another hour of so with them.   I'm enjoying it and feeling that I really am helping those creatures on the days I'm there. 

I was inducted into an order at my church last week.  To be included after so long involuntarily excluded, there are few words to express the depth of that value.   To be known, after being so isolated and unknown, a gift. 

I'm taking greater care of my emotional health.  Really making firm boundaries about what I allow in my world.  This only causes me to be healthier and feel better.  There is no negative to emotional self-care.  Some would argue this point.  Boundaries can be built for many reasons, but generally not amidst poor physical and/or mental health.  Now that I'm not suffering and struggling daily, I can, and have chosen to take care of myself.  Of my heart.

It is a joy to be able to report such a life here.  I have long ended my posts with gratitude.  The thing I'm most thankful for today is my faith.  Faith in the Lord, the He will see me through.  That some way, some how, He will provide.  And faith that He hears my prayers for each of the many very helpless and vulnerable lives I visit every week, human and animal.  And faith that prayers for me are heard.  And faith to be free from worry and fret.  To be free to know that I will do what I can, and the rest, I will pray about.  And that is enough. 

Have Happy Days!

One Random Night and my Faith

Have been feeling well and high-functioning for months. Many months. Have taken on additional volunteer duties, and enjoying my quality of life.

Here's how severely pure adrenaline from my own system can affect me. Drove myself to a meeting at church yesterday in the evening. (It's only a 17 minute drive on Sunday morning, when Tim drives us. But I drove myself yesterday, which means that I avoid the interstate, and it took all of 45 minutes, in drizzly, dark fog.) My hands, wrists, arms ached from holding onto the wheel. That drive was very stressful. Then I sat in the church which is cavernous, as churches tend to be, and all the voices chatting just roared as if they were, I don't even know what. I had to put my fingers in my ears until the meeting began. I sat in so much pain, thinking all the while, "I can't believe I've gotten myself into this situation AGAIN. I'm in too much pain to drive myself home. I'm nearly in too much pain to walk to my car. All the years of coping, adapting, learning, etc, and here I am AGAIN, a victim of this. I should have just stayed home where I'm safe." BUT IT WASN'T TRUE. It was temporary weakness, my doubt in myself, bullying me into believing that I would not be safe. And safety is about faith. I prayed while I sat there, listening to the questions and answers about where to walk during service, and when. I asked for His provision. I asked to be granted safety getting home. I breathed deeply. I rubbed my sore body to encourage as much circulation as I could. Thankfully, a migraine hadn't been triggered. I got up and was first out the door when we were released. You'd think that meant I got to my car quickly. But it didn't. A gentleman even came and gave me his arm, quite kindly, helping me finish getting myself to my car, as it was clear I was struggling to walk. I knew that I had to sit for a while. I had to have patience, let the stillness and quiet of my car try to calm all the adrenaline loose in my bloodstream. In a good deal of pain, both hands really struggled to grip the wheel. Then I remembered that I have safely navigated these shores before. I have been "at the mercy of my body" many times, and never has He forsaken my safety. He gives me enough mental clarity to care for myself or ask for help, and I have not suffered more from having this happen outside home. Its just terrifying. And then, the terrifying adds to the mix of chemicals in the blood. Adding to the pain response.

Another stressful drive home, and couldn't string any words together to Tim upon arrival. I felt defeated but, clearly reality showed that I was not. I was home. Safe. Nothing amiss. But there was still pain to deal with and all that goes with it. Took my nighttime meds and did my nighttime therapy, and went to bed, my mind not in a good place. Had nightmares about not being able to live independently, not having resources I need, not being heard, not being valued, being in danger..... etc. And I realized this upon rising, all those issues I nightmared about, equal a lack of something. But, if I have real and true faith, not just surface faith, but the deep stuff, I cannot fear those "lacks of", not really. I will know, as a result of my faith, that some provision will be made for me. Something I have not thought of will be put in my path to guide me through. I sat at the meeting in fear, talking myself down from a great deal of anxiety response to pain. But, here I am the next morning with nothing at all amiss. I think physiologically reacting to pain response is inherent. And I know that my body dumps adrenaline into my blood at remarkable levels, which I cannot filter and process. That being said, it is quite easy to convince myself that if I would have stayed home, it would have been prevented. And it likely would have. But I would have been excluded. The only way to become known is to show up. And not to worry about the state of my being upon my arrival. I won't have an isolated life again. I've had that and I take responsibility that inclusion is up to me. And coping with my body and its many responses to environment is up to me. But they don't have to be separate. It is difficult, often, but it is worth it, being included. It's not my fault I have to deal with this. It is my responsibility to deal with it, thought. That makes me empowered, not a victim of it.

May you be blessed,

Marie