In January I began a new therapy at PAAR (Pittsburgh Action Against Rape).  It is called Cognitive Processiing Therapy.  CPT for short.  Part of the process is to help me see how I tell myself things that are not realistic.  At first I thought they had to be events that were confrontational, or at least involving other people.  That was difficult.  I just don't have daily copnfrontations or even *events* with other people.  And, no, I don't live under a rock.  But after further clarificationit became clear that while it could be about a confrontation or an event involving another personit was really about what I tell myself about the kind of occurances ordinary people have every day.  Such as:  I dropped something.  I tell myself I'm a Klutz. In reality I just dropped soemthing.  I said something less than stellar. I tell myself I'm an idiot. completely socially inept.  In reality we all say things best left unsaid on occaision. The exercise is about what I tell myself that doesn't match reality. 

The next assignment was a little more difficult.  I had to write about an event. (My therapist chose the event.)  Then I had to re-read it every day.  That was difficult.  It put something I try NOT to thik about right in my awareness every day.  Which went on for three weeks because first I got sick and couldn't go to therapy and then my therapist was away for a week and so I had to keep doing the same assignment for three weeks.  But I did it.  I felt like *they* were trying to break me.  I even said that to my sponsor.  I knew that wasn't the case really. At least I HOPED that wasn't the case.  It was more about becoming desensitized to the event, to move closer to filling in the spaces where my memory has taken a vacation.

What happened when I read it each day was interesting.  I would be fully aware of what I had read and then be 2-3 sentences along and realise I had checked out.  I'd check back in and read a sentence or two and next thing I knew I'd checked out again.  It was like someone was flicking a light switch in my brain on and off really fast.  It was interesting to observe such a phenomena.  I could come back when I realized I was just reading with my eyes but the content was shut off from my brain.  But I could not seem to control the place where I checked out at. 

I'm back.  Again.  I stopped posting because of some real life interactions.  I was stunned and hurt by them and I still don't understand what actually happened.  Perhaps I never will.  I stopped posting because I thought the content would be misconstrued by some who might read it.  At best they will think I am bat-shit crazy.  At worst they will be disturbed enough by the content to want to blame me for my honesty. 
You would be surprised at how creative people can get with this blame.  And it always turned out that I owned what they said.  Well, now I have begun to separate the horrors of my past from the reactions of my present and so I think I might be able to separate their fears from my own. 
I know that some people will read my blog and have an unpleasant reaction to it.  They are not having an unpleasant reaction to me.  (Although they may not know that.) They may not know that what they are reacting to is that the topic of my blog (lately) is disturbing.  It is disturbing even if you are one of the people who was never sexually abused as a child.  But, if you were sexually abused as a child you have a different reaction.  Oh, yes, you will be disturbed.  You may also be *triggered* by my blog.  You will have an emotional or physical reaction that is being felt by not only your present adult self but also by the part of you who is the child you were when you were abused.  If you were a small child when you were abused you will be reacting with that child part and not from the adult place where you live your life today.  The hard part is, you may not know that.  You may find that hard to believe.  This may be where you say, *She is just bat-shit crazy.* I know.  I once scoffed too.  Because what I didn't face I could continue to pretend didn't happen. 
If this happens to you...try to just allow that it might have meaning.  That's all.  Nothing more.  Because one of the most important lessons I have learned on this journey is that I can't rush this, I can't fix itwith a sledge hammer.  I can only allow it to unfold.  I can allow each piece of awareness, no matter how difficult, to be what it is.  To sit with it and make nice.  Maybe have tea and conversation.  Sometimes all I do is listen to parts of my self, my experience, that I have not allowed for decades. 

(And just to be clear, we are not talking about recovered memories.  Recovered details.  But I never forgot what happened.)

It is not a comfortable journey for me so I understand that my blog may not be comfortable for others to read.  I read several blogs of other survivours and I am sometimes uncomfortable with their blogs.  I know it is the content and not the author that is making me uncomfortable.  I also know that my discomfort is a message to me.   Something that I need to sit with.

I did not realize how long it has been since I've been here!  Whoops!  I've been busy reading and having epiphanies.  And flashbacks.  But one of the things I've realised lately is that the flashbacks are even more pervasive that I had thought.  And they come out of seeming no where.  And seem to be triggered by anything at all.  Or everything.  Best scenario is to be able to recognise that that is what's going on and I'm not losing my grip on reality. 

Some helpful ideas:
*breathe deeply
*open your eyes
*put your feet flat on the ground or touch the ground with your hands to remind yourself that you are safe (can look funny putting your hands on the floor in the grocery store...since one is already standing...but helpful nonetheless)
*look around the room and say outloud what you see (also awkward in public)
*Name what is happening..."I'm having a flashback, this isn't happening now."
Listen for present day sounds and say them outloud (birds, cars, people talking, say calming things to yourself)  {another one that is awkward in public}
*Try a taste that is connected with being safe (drink coffee, peppermint, chew gum...if they work, carry them with you)
*Use a smell that reminds you of the present (hand lotions, pot pourri, coffee, mint, candles)
*Hold an object that feels comforting (key chains, coins, pictures of a safe person or place, rocks, beads) {I have a small square of soft material that I have scented with an oil I find comforting.  It fits in my pocket and can be held, unseen, in my hand}
*Say the current date out loud
*Avoid doing things like staring, rocking, humming...they will take you further into a flashback (I used to do just these things because I had been told they were comforting...which they are, but not helpful during a flashback)

Part of the problem is that often I have flashedback to a place in my life when I was preverbal (hard to believe, I know, but I was not born talking!)  That was one of the hardest things to get through.  Learning how to manage ME, now, while really feeling like I was unable to speak my need or help myself.  Actually, for quite some time I WAS unable to speak my need or help myself.  But the trick was to go back to that era of my life at a time when I was okay and make changes (all in my mind, of course) that altered my feelings of saftey and security.  That really was a turning point.  Simple, all in my head, and REALLY made a big difference!  I changed something that needed to be changed that existed in a time long over.  But it shifted something and was very helpful. 

I have been busy cleaning.  Oh yeah, like walls and stuff.  Took me most of yesterday.  But it made a lovely difference.  Everything smells so nice and clean.  One room.  Next, the bathroom.  The walls.  I had to do the tub after I finished with my living room walls.  And while I was at it I did the toilet and sink.  Soon, the walls and the floors.  I've got it down to a science.  I put Oxy Clean in a spray bottle and use a bucket of hot water to rinse mt rag.  NOTE: Do Not store Oxy Clean in a closed bottle!  It WILL fizz out all over the place! 

I have been reading like the voracious reader that I am.  Memoirs of an Addicted Brain is a great read.  Really readable while including some rather techincal brain fucntion information.  The author, Marc Lewis is a former addict who now holds a PhD in developmental neuroscience.  It was an awesome read.  I was sad when I finshed it. 
But there is the new Sookie Stackhouse novel to read and an author I have recently discovered by the name of Kelley Armstrong.  Along the lines of the Sookie Stackhouse novels.  Brain candy. Genre?  Fantasy, I'm sure.  Werewolves, vampires, and other supernatural beings, and crimes to be solved. 
But then, some part of me would really like to be a shape shifter.  I's like to shift into a dog.  I really want to know what Sunshine is smelling and thinking when she ambles around and examines things.  What does she learn?  What does she smell?  What does she hear?  And how does Daisy know hours and hours before it is on the news that a storm is coming? 

No, no, don't get any kind of crazy idea that I'm done with my fourth step...I'm just enthralled with the process this time in a way I have never been before. 

It seems that some part of me tells me that if I don't continue to play out these scenes exactly as I always have I will die. 
Literally, figuratively, I'm not sure it matters.
When really, the reverse is true. 
Fascinating.

Not that I am unaware that everything dies.  It's just that the message I get is SO toxic.  And backwards.

I'm doing a fourth step.  I mentioned that.  I'm not done yet but here are some interesting things that have come up:

I blow full steam ahead into relationships (of any ilk) in which I am not heard.  I am like Sunshine with a new bone.  I try more and more colourful, descriptive language to try to get myself heard.  I cling to these relationships even though I feel abandoned by them while they are happening.  I dog them with words as I try to be heard.  Just like I did as a kid with my mother.  It didn't work then and it doesn't work now.  Interesting that I peruse relationships in which I feel abandoned. 

Now to work out how to not do that. 

I am not done working my way through my list but this seems to be a theme.  That and reacting to things that trigger me into a flashback and I don't yet remember to remind myself that I am not that child still.  Cause that's what it feels like.

Okay, let me catch you up.  I thought I had poison ivy.  But no...foliculitis.  Not sure of the spelling.  the follicules on my calves are infected.  Huh!  Like who knew that could happen.  The doctor blames shaving.  I might just give it up.  We'll see.  The treatment is a cream that must be powerfully toxic given how many admonisions there are about using it sparingly.  And not getting it in ones mouth or eyes, etc.  Okay!  Forutunately it's not very big.  I'm a little nervous about this.  Just how potent is this stuff?  If it gets ugly I'll stop using it and call the doctor.  (That's what sane people do.  did ya know?)

This only became a huge issue because one of the teachers had Crohn's disease and is not at all resistant to catching stuff.  So we needed to know what it was.  Cause it just doesn't itch enough to be poison ivy. 

Our production of The Lion King is going to be phenomenal!!  We have a great bunch of performers.  Three to eleven year olds! 

I have had a busy and eventful day.
I now have what I suspect is my first EVER case of poison ivy.  I have stood in it (accidentally) and nary a blister or an itch.  But I think my run is over. 

I had a lovely day at Pride.  I marched in the parade and perused the stalls with friends.  I bought a hat.  We lost a kid, found her, lost another, found him too, and then lost two together.  We found them too.  It was lovely and hot. 

I picked berries from my raspberry patches.  I LOVE my raspberries.  I thought they were done forever when my brother cut them down last year JUST BEFORE HARVEST TIME!!!  But they are bearing well this year.  And a little early. Yum! 

Last night I did not think I would be able to go to Pride or walk in the parade because my knees and hips hurt and walking was just painful.  But after completing my resentment list for my fourth step I woke up this morning feeling ok.  Interesting, isn't it? 
There is much, much more to a fourth step and if I leave it at the resentment list things will go south quickly.  But I won't. 

And the dogs had a walk!  I was not sure that would happen after taking the bus into town and walking in the parade and walking up and down Liberty Ave. to see all the stalls.  But I got home and relaxed for a bit and I was ready to walk my girls. 
Sunshine has a mission on her walks:  to meet and greet as many children as she possibly can and to stealth kiss them!  Why oh why do they always forget she is going to kiss them?  She looks for them if she can't see them.  she knows what houses they live in! 

It Works If You Work It

We say that.  Cause it's true.  So I have started a forth step.  Or a tenth step or whatever ya want to call it.  It's an inventory.  The deal is that if anything disturbs me then there is something *wrong* with me.  And by that I don't necessarily mean that I have done something wrong.  I may have...I may have not.  But what I am looking for are the patterns in my own behaviour that keep me sick.  Sure, sure, I take other people's inventories along the way.  But I try to keep the focus on me.  Their inventories are just entertainment.  Cause they are easier. 
This inventory is all about working out what it looks like when I allow old patterns to be played by a new cast.  This needs to be done because it is just as painful as it has always been but now I get to feel all the feelings that come with the scenes acted by the new cast overshadowed by the scenes acted by old casts.  So the pain is amplified.  It plays out in renewed joint pain.  My body reacts to the betrayals old and new.  I am working on healing the old hurts but I need to learn ways to stop the new ones before they get going.  Am I always going to avoid those scenarios?  No.  Does the new cast wear signs saying they are the new cast in an old play?  no.  But I am learning to hear the lines spoken in a different voice, in different scenes.  Am I am learning to use the pain my body feels as a signal that something is wrong. Very wrong.  For me at least.  Other people are free to live and act however they feel they must.  As am I.  I must honour what hurts me and not allow it to continue. 

I'll keep ya'll posted on the course of the inventory.

It's been a while since I posted.  Some stuff happened with a class I was taking and was kicked out of.  I'm still unclear about what happened there.  I've been working on that.  And not alone mind you.  I needed the advice and support of others who could help me process what was such a painful and cruel event.  But something happened last Friday which made things a little clearer, for me at least.  One of the women who were teaching the class and who was a former covenmate of mine texted me.  She said she missed me.  Given how we parted I'm not sure what she missed. 
But the really interesting part was that this event was the only thing in my day that was out of the ordinary.  And when I woke up on Saturday morning I was nearly unable to walk.  Just like all the months of suffering in the winter.  No, no.  She did not cause it.  No.  But something about that event triggered whatever emotional baggage I have that set it off in the first place.  So what was it?  Was it words that say one thing and actions that say another?  Was it the whole *I love you. Stay away from me.* message?  I am not sure.  But these are both messages that I heard often in my childhood.  Then I didn't know that is not how everyone communicates. 
And it is always possible that this is not what she is saying.  I'm not sure it matters if that is what I am hearing.  Clearly, no matter what my ears heard, no matter what I want from this friendship, no matter what this friendship serves, my body heard something that caused it to be enflamed with pain. 
Unfortunately, while the pain arrived suddenly it did not go away suddenly.  It hung around all week.  It is dissapating now.  No swelling, no pain so great it hurts to move.  And I did nothing to ease it except work on this issue.  4th step, journaling, talking to sane friends. 
Where will it go?  I do not know that yet. 

Well, I am back after a protracted absence.   I don't know how profound what I have to say is on a regular basis but that isn't really what it's about. 


Here's to more regular posts.

Hey, I'm proud of me

You can say I'm bragging but really I'm just shouting about something I did that I am proud of. I wrote a review of a book for a website I like. And they published it. Okay, so it's the web. But I've never been published anywhere. If you're interested you can check it out here:
http://stubbydog.org/2012/02/beautiful-joe/

okay. I give.

The verdict is in. Gluten does make my joints hurt more. No eating it makes them hurt less. I still hurt enough that I thought it didn't really help.
The way elimination diets work is that at some point one retries the eliminated food. I hurt enough that casual observers could see that I was hurting. Plus, I had a strange discomfort in my stomach. Not a pain really. The best description is discomfort, unease. It is an odd, difficult to describe feeling. I had not expected it to be connected to the gluten, but I had noticed that my stomach felt calmer.
Huh. Whaddaya know.

Balance is a lovely thing. But the thing about it is that it is fleeting. Like the weather. And who's to say that is not balance. In the long view.

I am sad today about Whitney Houston. We were the same age. We lived a similar path. Mine, however, has lead to life while hers lead to death. No one can answer the whys of that. I made choices. I still make choices. I try to make choices that will on my best days bring me joy and on any given day the peace and contentment that comes from knowing that I am moving in the right direction. That there is priceless. Ya can't buy it and ya can't pay for it with fame and fortune.
There is an indescribable twist in my heart when I hear/see/meet people who can't or won't find their way out.
that was one of the choices, back in the day, of a title for the Big Book. But there were too many with that title. It is a fitting one though.

Perhaps, today, I will try to make that pie. The recipe sounds tricky and I have only one set of ingredients. No second chances. Well, the upside is that if the crust is awful the filling will still be edible!

Shocked. That's it.

advocation

So today was like some kind of tipping point. Dumped me right on my ass it did. So I called the rheumatologist's office to see if March 15th was still the soonest they could see me. Yep. And the girl hung up on me before I could say anything else! Errrr!
So then I called my regular doctor. He was not in today. He'll get back to me tomorrow. Whether that will be of a helpful nature or not is yet to be seen.

It FEELS like I'm not doing a very good job of advocating for myself. But what else can I do? Financially, I need to work within the system that takes my insurance. That may allow for alternatives later but for now it does not. Everybody wants all their ducks in a row.

Just frustrated. I lie in bed at night and take an inventory of what hurts. Is it muscle? Is it joint? The muscle pain seems easier to aleviate.

But, on the bright side I have been sober for 22 years today!

vivid dreams

I have been having some vivid dreams lately. Ones that stick with me with more detail than usual without any effort on my part to remember. I sometimes jot down a few key phrases if I think I want to remember a dream so that it doesn't slip away from me. But these have not needed help.

One had a viscious, insane child that had everyone in my dream running away from him in fear. I was running toward him. Not in a spirit of helpfulness, no. I was enraged at the fear he was creating in everyone. Not that I wasn't afraid of him too. I was just so enraged it didn't matter. I wanted to stop him from threatening everyone.
He may have had some connection to my viscious doll dreams. But I was not running
from him but towards him. He had those little teeth too. Like a pirahana.
I never actually reached him as the dreamed changed while I was trying to get to him. Then I was being chased by a lion. But there wasn't a lot of fear in that either. Just intensity if that makes sense.

Then there was the dream where my skin hurt so much I didn't want to be touched. I kept asking people if they had ever esperienced that. I kept describing it. I kept asking if they thought my painful skin was the result of a gluten-free diet. I posted that question on facebook in my dream.

These dreams as so intense that even when I wake up I don't leave them behind right away. Some miasma of the dream world follows me into the waking world and takes a while to disspell.
(dispel?)
Like, I know I'm awake and I can see things in reality but something otherworldly stays with me for a while. Almost as if I saw a lion in the hallway I would not be surprised, or if that child appeared I would not be shocked.

have patience

Please, ya'll have patience with me. On account of it would seem that just talking non stop about this rheumatoid arthritis seems to be helping some. It somehow quells the fear that they are wrong and it is something much worse and, and, and my mind runs away with it here and I go to the place where I'm bedridden and unable to move or even breathe unassisted. I know, I know, right. How is that living in the present?

Nag doctor's office for cancelations, hot baths, lovely *Joint Compound* found here: http://www.herbsfromthelabyrinth.com/category/SALVES-BALMS--INFUSED-OILS-3,
yoga, that's the help for now. And who knows, maybe all together with the talking to anyone and everyone it is helping.

If you've been following along, I think this flare up which is almost 9 months old, was brought about by my really working, continuously working, on childhood sexual abuse issues. And this may be true. Which means that suffering in silence is NOT going to help. So, hang in there. Hopefully I find another topic to wear out soon.

interesting

As I was walking this evening I had some kind of ah moment. I realized that I am often not aware of how much pain I am in (I must be on an unconscious level, though). This thought lead me to the next thought: that at some point I will be fully conscious of it and begin screaming uncontrollably.

I am doing everything I can to manage it. Although it is not much. Going to the E.R. is, of course, an option. But that means that
a) I have a way to get there. (of course there is always an ambulance)
b) that I know how much pain I am in while I can still make sensible decisions.

I had a scenario much like this although much shorter in duration which turned out to be an allergic reaction. Oh yes, an allergic reaction can cause pain which is great enough to interfere with non panicked thought. Got me seen pretty quick on a Friday night though.
I was amazed to find out that it was an allergic reaction.
Apparently, even in the E.R. screaming is NOT OK.

Getting tired of my subject matter yet?

I am sure ya'll will be getting tired of my topic even if you are too kind to say, *Shut Up!* Tapioca bread does not seem to toast brown before burning. Hmm. Interesting. I thought everything browned.

And now I am craving sugar! Uh! What is the metabolic breakdown here? I must have been converting a lot to sugar and now my body is going, *where's my sugar?!*, in a not very nice voice. Course it could just be that it is telling me it needs something else and I don't understand.

And what the hell is cellulose? Is it wheat- based? Can it be wheat -based? I could not find a definitive answer online. It is in my glucosamine/chondroitin supplement. Frustrating!

take back

Okay, I have to take back what I said yesterday. Today is Day 3, not yesterday. Back to Preschool. Can't count to 3.
Still no noticable difference. Just frustration. And CRAP! I'm thinking about food that contains wheat ALL THE TIME!
Even when I eat the gluten free alternatives.
this could be important. But at the moment I am just so frustrated with the pain and tired from the sleeplessness (because I'm in pain) that I'm just trying to get through each day. I'm sick of that mode of living. Really sick of it. I want to be pleased that it is not dark so long. I want to be pleased that Brigid is coming and my anniversary. (Same day)
I want to be thrilled by the little things that used to thrill me.
I still see the things that used to thrill me, just no access to the joy.

Oh, yes, there are moments when my brain says, *this is one of those moments*. Like when both my dogs had hold of the same stick this afternoon. Cuute! But it doesn't make it to my heart.

Day 3

It is day three of no wheat. Just for today I am getting over myself. (and I have a gluten free brownie mix for the day when it all falls apart and that is the only *fix*.)

I found that even at my local Giant Eagle I probably won't starve. But I have an odd love/hate relationship with food and sometimes something specific is REALLY WANTED ! This caused many grocery store meltdowns when I was getting used to the whole no dairy thing. When I want comfort food I just want comfort food. I'm a little more savvy about the whole process now than I was then. And I was together enough emotionally to read a few labels on stuff I had in the pantry and sort it. Keep/Give Away. I faired reasonably well except there is the bulk purchase of snack bars that I can't eat. And the organic whole wheat flour that isn't even open yet. Ah,well.

Is there a difference yet? Nope. Fingers still feel broken. Hips, knees, ankles still hurt. See, with the dairy the result was immediate and astounding. Absolutely fucking amazing. The only incentive I needed was that I was out of pain. Immediately. It took a little longer to realize that I no longer had constant heartburn either. I never connected them. I have not had one episode of heartburn since I stopped eating dairy.
We'll give it the full 14-20 days and see how I feel. If after that I still have the same level of pain I will have to discuss it further wiht someone who knows more that I do to assess whether it might be helpful or not anyway. What I hear is that eliminating wheat can stop the damage that R.A. does to joints and muscles.

oops

I made one of my casseroles last night. That means I put all the ingrediants in a dish and bake it. Well, I used a jar of lentils, quoina (sp?) and what not that had been the last of several jars and so I put them all in one when I needed the jars for new bean, etc. It turns out that one of the things that was in there, that I thought was rice, was barley. Oops. Barley is not, apparently, gluten free. This activates the fear named *There won't be any food that I can eat*. Yep, I had this same thing with the dairy stuff. Yep, I know what it looks like and I know its name. We've met before. That doesn't mean it still doesn't scare me. Whole 6 quart dish of food that I can't eat and no one in this house will eat. Can't even feed it to the dogs. dogs can't eat lentils. Daisy will just puke it up.
Not to mention the pantry full of glutenful foods.
I'm just sayin'.
No, I didn't throw it away. Not yet. Cause, who knows? This might not even work. I froze it.

gratitude

I need a gratitude check. Because I'm not dead and I'm not too crippled to move. Yet. And I intend to do whatever I can to stay moving as long as I can.

1. I'm here.
2. I can still move, mostly, if not gracefully.
3. I have food to eat. (see below)
4. I have two great, sweet dogs.
5. I have coffee. (DO NOT go there.)
6. I am not broke.
7. I have a warm bed to sleep in.
8. I have clean clothes to put on.
9. I have a job.
10. I have friends.
11. I have tools. (real and metaphysical)
12. I have options.
13. I can read and I have stuff I WANT to read.
14. I love my job.
15. I have a great therapist.
16. I have coloured pens.
17. I have watercolours, brushes, and paper.
18. Someone told me thank you for what I said today.
19. I got hugs from friends.
20. People still talk to me.
21. I don't live in a cave.
22. People in the grocery store can move around me.
23. I'm sober.

Okay, why'd I need a gratiutde list? Well, it's always helpful to write out what I'm grateful for even if it's the most basic of necessities. In fact, I am more grateful for those than for the special stuff because they are, well, necessary.

I heard from more than one person about the whole gluten-free thing being helpful to R. A. sufferers. I tend to listen selectively and so I need to hear things more than once before I take a serious look at them. But I did a little scrolling around and found that, yes, it would seem that there are people who think this is true. It won't kill me to eliminate gluten from my diet. But most gluten-free diets are for celiac sufferers. Which means that dairy and nuts are not a problem. Well, I can't eat dairy, almonds, or peanuts. And dairy is as prevalent as gluten in prepared foods. Frustrating. And my fear is those nights when I get home late and I'm too tired to cook, what will I eat? Cause tired AND hungry is not a pretty place for me. Yes, I can plan ahead and freeze stuff. And I do and I will. In fact, there is a casserole of legumes and vegetables cooling to be frozen as I write. So, I guess what my real problem is is that I am not living in the present moment. Cause in the present moment my belly is full and I have dinner for a week and I have a loaf of gluten-free bread and I have sunflower butter and soy cheese. There is fruit and vegetables fresh, tinned, and frozen in my cupboard/freezer/refridgerator.
That is all.

staying in

So, I posted on the wrong blog!! Oops.

I'm staying in tonight. Achey, tired. So, if you were expecting me girls...I'm at home.

Candles lit, good food, resting.

I've been exhausted lately. Like, afraid that if I take a nap I won't be able to get back up until morning. Which would be okay if I had no place to go. But that isn't always the case. So, I am not going anywhere.

I have an afghan in the making that I am working on. I watched a tutorial online to get it started. It is about ten inches square now. I have a bag of odds and ends of yarn going into it.

Stay warm. Stay safe.

Huh?

I was walking the dogs tonight and they started tugging on the leash and getting excited. So I look to see what they see. A SKUNK! Waddling across the street, in Sheraden. In January! Why is that creature not hibernating?

No, we did not get sprayed. I was going to avoid that if I had to lay down on them to stop them from chasing him/her.
The two of them together wout weigh me and I think they know it. If they really wanted to drag me around they could. I try to keep this information from them...but, I think they pieced it together.

some flotsam and jetsam

When I set up apartments in my house five months ago I left some stuff behind. The thing I miss the most...a couch. I have my eye on some things at Ikeabut for now that must wait. The other thing I left behind was the vacuum. Because it is not mine. Mine is a irobot Roomba. I have been setting it free to roam and suck up detris for a couple of years. It always picks stuff up and it had a filter that catches that fluffy stuff too. Well, it has been having battery issues and so I bought a different vacuum. It is lightweight and small. I THOUGHT I had made a mistake and got a sweeper that does not pick up much. Well! I was wrong. I had to empty the dust cup in every room. And there are only three. Well, there is a hallway too. Amazing.

My Uncle Bob sold Filter Queens just after the Second World War. He had a few things to say when I wanted to buy a Kirby. First, it wan't a Filter Queen. I still have that but it does not have a beater bar and does only a fair job on carpet. Although it does pick up the dog hair. I had it refurbished at a vacuum repair place and the guy was quite enthusiastic. He was appalled that I was going to trash it. When I got it home it sucked so hard it would have sucked up a small careless dog!
So, where I was going with that...Uncle Bob said that the same experiment that the Kirby salesmen do with the fliter and going over and over the same spot on your carpet to prove the quality and ability of the Kirby can be done with any vacuum. You just have to vacuum over the same spot repeatedly like you are a Kirby salesman.

It works with a Shark too.

The Walk

Zip up our jackets.
Put on our hats.
Tie our shoes.
Settle the baby across my center.
Offer the child my hand.
We step on the path.
We move at the pace of the child.
Slow, plodding.
She sees something.
She drops my hand, runs off.
Wait!
She runs back witha treasure I should see.
I look.
A feather, a flower, a stick.
She takes back my hand and we continue on.
The baby shifts, fusses, wakes.
I'm here. You're safe.
The sun shines.
My shadow falls darkly on the path.
A solitary grown-up shadow.
My shadow children leave no shadows on the path.
Their voices, my voice.
Their needs, my needs.
Their presence, thier energy
Is real.
It subjugates mine at times.
When they have a need that I try to ignore.
A tantrum.
A piercing cry.
Okay.
Stop.
Ask.
What do you need?
I need to be acknowledged.
I need to be held.
I need to be comforted.
I stop walking.
We sit on a fallen log.
We eat.
We rock.
I hold them.
Who is this strange traveling trio?

And I feel

And I feel so vulnerable. I have a black belt but it won't do me any good if my body won't work the way it is supposed to. I can't kick anybody's ass if I can't get my leg up to do it or I can't put any power into it.
And since I hurt when I'm just walking then...pretty sure I won't be kicking anyone.

Not that I was planning on kicking ass. That's not how Tang So Doo works. But knowing that could was very satisfying. It helped me feel safe. Now I do not feel safe.

hurting and confused

So I hurt. Yep. I did my yoga asanas, I walked the dogs, I've been moving nearly all day. But that hurts. It hurts to walk, it hurts to type, it hurts to cook.
I made some concoction with lentils and spices and onions and spinach today. Crap! I had asparagus to put in it and I forgot. Oh well. Asparagus in my next concoction.

Y know, something that really annoys me is that my doctor tols me years ago that the pain in my knees was probably arthritis. Take advil. Okay, but he never made it clear that it was probably NOT osteoarthritis. Because I was probably twenty something at the time. It was manageable with advil so...carry on. Huh. See, it was MORE managable with advil a few weeks ago. Until my eyeball exploded (not for real...see back posts) and I had to stop taking it. Then I found out just how much I really hurt. Which is enough to seriously stress me out and slow me down. How is that helpful? Isn't rheumatiod arthritis a stress disease?

Okay, no one really knows for sure what the causes are. Some speculate trauma and stress, heredity seems to play a role. My dad has it. I think my gram had it.
But the honest ones say they don't know.
The remedies are many from steroids to NSAIDS to some stuff I do not understand, to meditation and yoga (see my frustration here?)

In my own life, it seemed to become a force to be reconded with after I started dealing with the sexual abuse from my childhood along with just ordinary abuse and neglect. And probably some just, dislike too.

What I would like today is just something that would make me more comfortable. More able to move without pain. Able to sleep without pain. That's what I would like.

Is there a lesson in all this? Or is my Higher Power just dropping me on my head again?
I would really like to see the point in all this. I'm one of those people. If I know why I get on board sooner. I'm having a really hard time with all this. Really.

bad news

So after the eyeball hematoma I stopped taking the advil and by Sunday I felt like I had the flu. Except I wasn't sick. I just ached all over like I had the flu...or a fever. But I did not have the flu, nor did I have a fever that I know of. But, since it just ain't right to hurt like that I went to the doctor. K. I was so not prepared for the information I got. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. This is not good. Especially since I have an enzyme issue which means I should not take NSAIDS (which includes the advil I was taking, yes). and so he put his hands up and would not prescribe anything at all. He is sending me to a rheumatologist who can't squeeze me in until March. So here I am taking tylenol, which is. apparently, not an NSAID but does precious little for me except cause me to worry about the state of my liver. While I still hurt all over. What if I just didn't take it? Probably feel like I had the flu. Just to ease my worry I just might try it. I just want to not hurt.

See, all this started when I started having flashbacks of the abuse/neglect. I thought that yoga, meditiation, and not living in repression would eventually ease the physical pain. Nope. It just got steadily worse.

Really. I really think my Higher Power IS dropping me on my head. Over and over and over. Just when I get my fingers up over the top of the pit I seem to be in She stomps on my fingers and I go sliding back in. Feels like, anyway. Hurts to type. Hurts to do anything. If I stop doing anything I won't have the muscle mass to do anything. It is a viscious cycle.

Yeah, I've cried. On Wednesday I cried so hard I thought I was going to throw up or pass out from lack of oxygen. Seriously, I could not catch my breath. For so long I got pretty scared. But I couldn't stop. sounds like it should help in some cleansing kind of way. But it doesn't feel like it. Maybe because whatever I do, whereever I go there's the pain. Maybe.

Hell, yes I'm angry. I thought doing all this really hard, really fucking painful work would somehow prevent the *diseases of trauma*. I was wrong.
Must, of course, take into consideration that this was already established long before I started any of this work. Long before I even knew it was there.

Off to preserve my suxcle mass.

flotsam and jetsam

So If I post every day or even every couple days the chances are pretty good that I will post about nothing. Who cares? Not me, really. I just like the sound of the keys being tapped.

I had to see an opthamologist for the first time ever. I had a little spot of blood on the white of my left eye. My first thought was, OMG! I've had a stroke! No, no, I'm not an overreactor! Ha.
Well, it turns out it was caused by the advil I was taking for hips, knees, headaches.... It is a blood thinner. It thinned my blood so well it leaked out of the tiny vessels (?), capilaries (?) in my eye. I'll be fine. Just no more advil. Tylenol. So now I have to watch my liver. Egads!

I have been painting a lot lately. No, don't get the idea that I have any skill. No, I just like it. I find it absorbing and relaxing. I have always liked working with colour. Now, I'm trying out working with lines. and really, Mondrian did those squares and it *great Art* so.... On Friday I am going to get a new brown and a pink watercolour pencil. I've been doing lots of trees.
I jsut had the idea to sketch my athame. Maybe I'll do some godesses too. Maybe a goddess in the stlye of Mondrian.

I started using the notebook I found that poem in that I don't remember writing for my morning pages. I have read some of the stuff I'd forgotten about. There was a LOT I'd forgotten about. a part of me remembered and I did not know why I was untrusting of some friends. Now it is clearer. so I can begin to process what happened, how it affected me, and what I want to do about it now. My trust is fragile and I need to take special care of it. And I will. I have. I just didn't know why I was being so careful. Now I do.

I guess I can find a lot to say when i have nothing to say.

Today has been a day of having my thoughts and emotions plunge and climb back to what is level for me over and over. Ya know, no matter what else is going on in my life the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous is my Center. I find there a spirituality that is lacking depth and breadth in any other area of my life. Is it the life or death nature of recovery? Possibly that is what causes us/me to give it the energy that creates the depth and breadth. Such is not needed if one does not see one's spirituality as not a matter of life or death but just a way to view the world. Whatever. Even in the midst of our brokeness many members of A.A. manage to do extraordinary things and share with a level of honesty that I have foudn nowhere esle. Maybe that's why all else pales in comparison.

2012

This is the year I walk out of the forest. OUT. Not out and then find another forest to wander in...which is what it feels like I did last May. I was finding my way out of the forest and walked right into another. Yes, there was a brief sojourn in a meadow. It was not long enough. I need a rest in a nice sunny, flower-filled meadow. A long one. I get to keep coming back to this forest for visits. Yep. That's what they tell me the journey of a childhood sexual abuse survivour looks like. Okay. But I am walking out of this forest and into a nice sunny meadow and I shall linger there and pick flowers and watch butterflies. Yep.