FibroDAZE

"Some days, even my lucky rocketship underpants won't help." ~ Calvin and Hobbes

Lucky?

As I left my job this afternoon, I encountered two of my co-workers in the hallway.  “Where are you going?” one of them asked.  “Home” I said. Above their protests I said “I only work 20 hours a week”.  “Lucky” one of them responded as I stepped into the elevator. That depends on your definition of lucky I thought.  You may not have said that if you only knew the why.

His comment implied it was my personal choice to only work that amount.  Really, it’s a choice that was made for me and one I’ve struggled to accept.  I work twenty hours a week because that is almost more than I am physically and mentally capable of.  Between the somato-sensory disorder that causes chronic pain, problems with my brain-eye connection (registering what I see) and a couple other chronic illnesses, I’m lucky to work at all.

So I guess I am kind of lucky – fortunate to be handling a return to work as well as I am after being pretty much absent from the workforce for a number of years.

So that lucky comment? Kind of a double-edged sword.  Maybe it’s best not to call someone “lucky” until you know just how “unlucky” they kind of are.

Then again, maybe his comment was about me at all, but rather a longing of his to work part time.   It’s easy to fall into the trap of “it’s all about me” when, most of the time, it really isn’t.

Dear People Who Take Public Transit

For the most part, you lot are pretty well behaved. Nonetheless, I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from the following while riding public transit:

  1.  Having your cell phone speaker cranked up so loud that I can hear both sides of your conversation from several seats away.  This is particularly not appreciated at 7 a.m.
  2. Playing the music on your IPOD without ear buds.  The rest of us are not interested in hearing your music.  Especially when it echoes throughout the entire station as you walk down the stairs.
  3. Talking in a loud voice to your friends.
  4. Deliberately walking in the path of another and expecting them to move.  Particularly when there is an ACRE of room to your immediate left.
  5. Blocking the aisle of the bus so that no-one else can get past you to claim a seat.  This is made even more annoying while you are performing #3, above, at the same time.
  6. Adjusting Groping yourself not once but twice in the space of five minutes.  Eye bleach, where are you when I need you.

(All of these things happened today.)  Maybe if I hadn’t been dealing with a migraine aura making me very irritable and noise sensitive I’d be less inclined to rant and be more generous, kind and compassionate to you, my fellow sojourners.  Right now though I dub you  “those who seek to piss me off.”

Zero to Sixty – Part two

It was like being in a bubble, staying at home a lot.  So I also went from zero to 60 in terms of my exposure to viruses, especially since my volunteer position was in a hospital.  I started volunteering there in February and came down with something nearly every time I volunteered.  It’s too coincidental that I’d volunteer on a Monday and be sick by a Wednesday.  I was exposed to a flu like illness in March that took three weeks to resolve and nearly took my breath away. The coughing was so bad at times, it triggered a migraine aura, and the coughing itself evoked pain throughout my entire upper body. It wasn’t until I got cough syrup with codeine (“the good stuff”) from the doctor that my cough settled down.  That was about two weeks ago. Then, true to form, after I volunteered on Monday, on Wednesday, I came down with another virus – seems to be more of a garden variety cold at least at this point. However, that was it for my volunteering at the hospital; I simply can’t keep getting sick like this. I resigned my volunteer post. A friend who has worked at a hospital for years said she came down with everything for the first two years she worked there.  Well that’s unacceptable for me; this is just volunteering, it’s not like I’m getting paid for this and am therefore going to put up with so much illness.

Once I either get used to being a working girl again, or my position ends (it’s currently just temporary until the end of June), I’ll check out volunteering again.

But rest assured it won’t be at a germ factory.

Zero to 60

 

Self portrait

Part one

At the beginning of April, I started working part time.  It had been a few years since I worked outside the home, short of a couple websites we built and a few articles published.

It was like going from zero to 60:

  • I went from a little exercise to walking 30 minutes a day, 5 times a week, because of commuting to and from work by transit.  Then on Mondays, when I volunteer, it is another one hour approximately of exercise because of the volunteer job I am doing.
  • Then, work itself.  No work to working 20 hours a week.  This job takes quite a bit of focus and concentration and my brain is tired by the end of my four hour shift.

My pain levels are pretty high, and I’m pretty tired, brain fog is up, etc.  The other day I put the cereal in the fridge, not that this hasn’t happened before but usually I catch myself.  This time I didn’t even notice.  Hubby found it the next morning.

It seems to be taking its toll on my body and brain.  I find I’m quite exhausted and go to bed between 8 and 9 pm every night.  While it might enhance the wallet, it sure doesn’t do much for the quality of life.

Notes on the Negative

Why are so-called “negative” emotions shunned in Christendom?  God created us with the full range of emotions from happy to sad and everything in between.  I heard a pastor this past Sunday speak about a family member who had lost their spouse 25 years ago in a car accident.  He glowingly lauded her by mentioning that she never had any anger or bitterness because of what happened but “took her pain to the Lord.”  Of course, take your pain to the Lord, but feel (and then take) your anger, your bitterness, your frustration, etc. It’s hard to imagine such a saint that would not feel angry or bitter in this circumstance and I wondered just who he was describing.

Why do certain Christians have this mind set that we cannot express what would be a perfectly natural, normal responses to such a tragedy. Why wouldn’t you be angry and bitter about what happened?  Why do some people (pastors included) seem to suggest that we’re to be “Happy Christians” in all circumstances?  It makes me crazy.  In my opinion, denial of “negative” emotions in times of loss is inauthentic and possibly even self-damaging.  I feel that it’s going to come out sooner or later in one way or another; might as well let it rip and lay it all at the foot of the cross for Christ to heal.

Yet to live the rest of one’s life as an angry, bitter, or even grieving, individual doesn’t seem like it would be a good prescription for one’s emotional health. Christ heals it and we can maybe begin to feel a little less angry, bitter or sad.  But then there’s still days when one feels like ripping someone a new one. And that’s okay.

On Cocoons

Wrapping on up in a cocoon of safety and only allowing a select few into that cocoon – as if to not be hurt again – in my opinion means a pretty narrow existence and may result in loss.  Perhaps the thought of leaving the cocoon hurts.  A real cocoon is temporary – a home for a caterpillar to morph into the butterfly.

Spreading one’s wings and leaving the cocoon may feel like a terrible risk but eventually, I daresay, becomes a necessary one for, it would seem, the longer one is in the cocoon, the harder it will be to leave.

Just sayin’.

Quote of the Day

Sunset on Cannon Beach

Today, this is a very timely and accurate quote that spoke to me. I do not know its’ author.

Never ignore a person who loves you, cares for you, and misses you because one day you might wake up from your sleep and realize you lost the moon while counting the stars.

I walk in loneliness missing you.

Lagom

This is the article I wrote that was published in the latest issue of Geez Magazine.

 

Lagom is a Swedish word that means “just about right,” “enough” or “adequate.” I dream of a world where there is lagom for the “least of these,” including those who are chronically ill or have chronic pain, some of whom live at or below the poverty line:
Enough that no one with a chronic illness has to choose between eating and buying medications.
Enough that no one becomes homeless because of the cost of medications and treatment.
Enough compassion so no chronic pain sufferer seeking relief in the ER is treated like a drug addict or refused treatment.
Enough that no diabetic has to reuse their needle.
Enough such that patients who can’t afford insurance or benefits, but who are prescribed daily medications, don’t threaten their health by either not filling the prescription or rationing the pills.
Enough support and understanding from loved ones.
Enough training on chronic pain in med school so that medical doctors are better trained than veterinarians.
Enough awareness and education for those who are pain-free to walk a mile in the shoes of someone with a chronic illness or chronic pain.

More from Brene Brown on Vulnerability and Shame

Authenticity

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