My Schedule For the 30th of February

People are generally lovely, kind, understanding. But even in kindness, people can drive you batshit insane.

For five years, from '06-'11, I was delighted to be seizure-free... if I had to schedule it... timing is everything, or so I'm told, I suppose I'd go for the 30th of February. If by some bizarre quirk of fate the Gregorian calendar is revised, like the Julian calendar it replaced, and we are given a 30th day in February, I am hopelessly screwed! :-)

I have two types... one is the tonic-clonic... I like to call this the cinematic variety... it was known as grand mal at one point. First the body stiffens, then, it relaxes...and whammo. I like to describe a seizure as a disrupted telephone line or as a computer shutting down. In this case,  your call to  Aunt Gertie in Tennessee doesn't go through. No nice conversation... instead, the signal is messed up and the messages don't get down the wire.

The second example is the brain, the CPU of your body. Sometimes, it has to shut itself down and reload. After this, I am generally exhausted and left with large blank parts in my memory, or with a few rather nightmarish-but-blurry images. I also tend to walk and talk like I've been on a 3 day bender. And I'll be really thirsty. I can tell ya, it hurts. Like hell. The muscles really do need some help afterwards. May be warned by headache, but since I also get migraines without activity, this is not always the case. But exhaustion and irritability will usually start just before hand. This one freaks me out, because I'll occasionally, just as I'm waking, think I'm under water while people call my name.

The other type used to be referred to as the "petit-mal"  (I'm a bad French student. "Little Illness.") --- more commonly called a staring spell... some people have these simply due to exhaustion... and I warn people a lot that if I'm otherwise fine, to try to avoid alarming me... I may just be tired! (It's a weird one, but I'll send off clues!) On occasion, I'll drop things... like a soda or water bottle, and I tend to find myself slumping. I'm generally "ok" after, but, if people have attempted to slap me to (please, for God's sake... do NOT slap my cheeks and shout "are you ok"! It's a bit jarring and it's easy to frighten me in this state too.) I have wanted to show them what it's like by giving them a movie bitch-slap,  but not had the requisite strength. "You. Come here. Closer. Closer. Closer. Now. Grab my hand. Now. Slap yourself. Hard." (But I've always chickened out.) I'll be wonky, but not nearly as bad as the first type.

First and foremost, if I feel ready to drop, I listen to myself. No second-guessing! I'll beat this.

Calgon, Take Me Away

At this point, I have no clear image of where I'm going. I know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, I know that the sun does come out after the darkest of days. Pain doesn't last forever.

Things I'm beginning to pick up. I do learn, even if it comes from the mouth of a horse's ass (No particular person in mind. This is a general statement.)!

1) I can't be on all the time. That's ok. And right now, rest will be good for me. I'm praying that it's merely exhaustion/ bad attack of allergies.

2)Leave the pros to do what they do. I know, for example, that if I were attempt to play pro football, that I am (A) no Rudy, and (B)no Doug Flutie, and I would get smooshed. Respect the experts and leave them to it. This metaphor has stretched terribly. I need not be where I know I will act in a way I don't like. I am in control of me, and will tolerate no slipping.

3)I will not live my life in and out of social networking. Not because of a scary study regarding depression... I think there's a set of mitigating factors. But because it's a big, beautiful world and mosquitoes aside, there's nice summer nights and no need for a heavy coat.

4)I am working on the positive. Finding ways to keep sane in insane places, at insane times. So why worry, as I have to keep reminding myself. I'll do it, until I get through to myself.

5)Say "No" when necessary (HINT, HINT).

6) Let people know when they're behaving like assholes.

7) Be tougher when I want answers, as they won't come by simply worrying. Time to hold my head up, square my shoulders and think awesome.

8)Quit worrying. (Giggle.)

9) Remember once and for all that while fear and stubbornness can save, they can keep you sick and scared for too long.

10) Quit taking refuge in vagueness

11) Take a break... I am going to be exhausted and in a "If it's Thursday, this must be Belgium," frame of mind.
(Also, the difference between a French and Belgian kiss is this: same basic approach, but the Belgian has a lot more Flem.)


Arrivederci!

Vocabulary, Video Games, and the Sweet, Simple Things

Trying to deal, to focus on what's important, and weed out what's not, has been marvelous. Cathartic. (I love that word, like avoirdupois, it's simply not used enough. Sample sentence on the former: "You may be blessed with avoirdupois, my friend, and you may throw that about as much as you please, but as far as I'm concerned, you may take your opinion and shove up your rather considerable backside!") 

Because I delight in new vocabulary words:

Courtesy of Dictionary.com and an ad from the 50's attempting to use "avoirdupois" poetically

With more work to do :)


So, the world is strange. Appointments, appointments, tests... oh, the tests! Still no answers, and day by day, I realize I'm still not where I want or need to be. When I screw up, I still get after myself, and I am not very nice to myself, either. But I can't do that. Instead, I'm going to remember: the opinions of people I don't know, whose struggles are unknown to me, and mine to them...why should I  worry what they think? There's those I love  who love me. While sometimes, I may take an opinion or analysis with a grain of salt anyway, I'll listen and try to learn.

And of course, focus on what's good. Simple, sweet, odd little things

1)Finding Space Invaders again, at long last! (Cue Etta James, please!) There's something in a point and click kill the aliens game that is magic!... now to share the beauty with the next generation!

It rocks my socks. Courtesy of Dorkly Dot Com

My wonderfully sweet, insane friends. All of them. My wonderfully sweet, insane family, as well.

My Cloud-b starlight sea turtle. Calming. And, with a textured ceiling, it's a delight to watch the stars above my bed! (Sticky stars wouldn't stick.)

Music. While I get plagued with ear worms that won't quit, I'm grateful for music and will be sad when I lose the ability to hear it. But not too sad, I love feeling it, too. Take, for example, Iron Man by Black Sabbath. It took me forever to understand Ozzy, but I know the beat in my very bones.

Falling and Forgiveness

I'm butchering a rather sweet, honest, if not naive, statement.

Jerks will always be among us. All we can do is love them

I won't go into anything that says "In spite of everything..." because I am nowhere near the type of person who can honestly say that.
Not right now. I know, in my heart, that the jerks are out numbered, although it doesn't seem like it, by the genuinely kind. That even jerks teach valuable lessons. And we can learn to not give a damn sometimes, when we need to protect ourselves.
I will not give into hate, or fear. I will accept a bad moment, where fear got to me... I think "We are not given a spirit of fear" has not been drummed into my head nearly enough.

 Just in case:

What did I do? How did I let myself get dragged down when I was working on a sense of peace and calm? How did I let the jerks win this time? Why? When I had other, better things to do, when I could have tended my own garden rather than worry that someone decided to dump fresh manure on someone else's roses, I screwed up and gave in to anger. After all the pep talks to myself. God help me... I gave myself more stress, more to worry about, more to fear. Talk about two steps back. But... I need to be nicer to myself. I need to allow myself to be human, with all that entails, and forgive my screw ups. I can't let myself fall back. No... Hi me... I forgive you, too. Let's get going.

Consider the Lilies

Or... Mixing Metaphors


Consider the lilies... They want for nothing, but for fresh, clean air and sunshine. They "do all right" as the hilarious scene in The Life of Brian reminds us. We are much more important than they, so fair play to them, they're very pretty! and should we take their example? (Mixed metaphor, and I won't be able to stretch it long.)

Well, as humans, we cannot sit embedded, waiting for capricious rain or sun. We must go for our own food. We think, we feel. But do we need to worry? No! (She's 'avin' a go at the lilies now!)

In life, there will forever be someone who gets our goat, treats us roughly (and for some stupid reason, we may go back for more, out of a misplaced need to placate and be polite.) I would say, take time out to figure out what's important: the capricious opinions of people unknown to me, and I to them, or taking time to care for me, so I am healthy, so that I am not a mess, and worthless when push comes to shove, and to care for those whom I love and love me?

I will be content, and strong.
I don't need to worry about the craziness around me, it always is, and somehow, I will be the one who has to bear it... I can shake that off, shrug, if you will. The world needs to spin for itself and I cannot hold it up. This I am learning, and must acknowledge.

Here endeth the sermon, go in peace.

Valentina

This year, a little boy named Ryan showed up in Target circulars. While many people tend to toss these and go, it created a buzz. Ryan is a child who happens to have an extra chromosome. He is a child, first, and foremost, and adorable as all get out. Ryan has Down Syndrome.

This year, a Spanish fashion designer made a little girl, the spectacularly adorable Miss Valentina Guerrero, its cover model for swimsuits in her 2013 summer campaign. (This kid is seriously cute.)
Already, many bloggers have entered in their opinions on "ableism" and "disability", and on whether the designer, Delores Cortes is committing the faux pas of "Look at me! I'm doing something big!" and whether the donations to The Down Syndrome Association of Miami are done with open heart and genuinely wanting to support these awesome and marvelous people... or whether it's a self-serving act to drum up business. This will always, sadly be one of the first things that will be said. Also, one of our fine British friends on that paragon of news reporting, the Daily Mail, already added their two pence, while not even, apparently looking at Valentina, a priceless, gorgeous baby with the sweetest, tubby little cheeks I've seen, as a person, and added in their written sneer, "Yes... she looks...special". (Can't help ya, dude. I look at her and I die of cuteness.)

Is she adorable and utterly compliant to Western norms of beauty? Yes. Do you take an involuntary second look? Maybe. I see a child first, here, pretty as can be. With an open, unabashed smile and a twinkle in her hazel-brown eyes.
Did Dolores Cortes do a good thing? Yes. Will children benefit? Yes. Will eyes and minds be opened? We can hope.

This is not the first model with down syndrome in a major campaign. Valentina has the honor of being the first to be the face of the campaign and not just another kid to pick out from the crowd. It also looks like Ms. Cortes let her simply be a baby, and that's great.

Bethy's First-World Problems, and Tips

Sometimes, restrictive diets, for whichever reason, be it for health, to ensure your dear little intestines (I never thought I'd see the day I called my intestines "dear"... they were there, but like gynecology or politics I choose to never discuss them over dinner...everyone gets upset and no one can finish their dessert.) can process what you need, and thus your liver, kidneys, and stomach as well, and any vitamins are used as opposed to piddled out... can get nutty. I mean, I'd love to walk into a restaurant and say "I'll have the French toast"... although I really enjoy making it at home... if I have a bread that soaks up my egg, milk, cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg mixture well!- Bonus tip: I use a little extra virgin olive oil in my cooking process.  (Udi's GF sandwich bread. Freezer section. Awesome.) rather than dither. There's really only so many coffee (or cherry coke float) & fry meals I can handle while attempting not to gaze longingly at a cheeseburger (or get caught doing so.) And while I fully enjoy surf and turf (now that I know how to eat shrimp, that is... the first time, age 9, I went for the tail... "It's... chewy." Everyone fell over laughing while asking me if my parents ever gave me seafood.) and the prototypical trucker's breakfast, steak and eggs, (Medium well, if you please, extra hash browns, no bread, scrambled eggs), I can say it: "I am tired of steak and eggs! I want variety!" (First world problems, y'know?) 
Enough about me... although chances are I'll insert some weird sarcasm somewhere down the line.

Recently, studies show (That's right... when not dealing with the shadows, or finishing off another Game of Thrones book, I gag for technical studies. I worry about me.)
that if you want to lose weight (not so much, thank you- but I'm using some of this for the opposite reason, sort of like body builders drinking Slim Fast in whole milk.), you have more success if you keep a food journal than if you do not. In my case, I keep track of how many calories I'm getting (since I fell somewhere and frightened myself) and whether or not I'm getting enough protein. It's annoying to say the least, and who wants to look back years later and read: "February 26th, 11:00PM: Finished half of chicken, washed down with bottle of Mexican Coke"?
The technical stuff, courtesy of Journal of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics
(I also worry sometimes... does it need to be said, every time I go finish off a container of honeydew chunks? Or my favorite baked apples? Well, yeah, but it sucks. Plain and simple. It's a time sucker.)
Now for the talented Lesley Kinzel, blogger at Two Whole Cakes, author of a book by the same name, and columnist at XO Jane (If you were a teenager in the 80's and 90's, and even early '00s, you know of Sassy & Jane Pratt.)
Lesley is a bright little sunbeam, and her photoshops, added into serious scenes from Downton Abbey (which I love mostly for Maggie Smith, whom I hope to be like when I'm an old woman.) made me get a bit of a girl-crush.
 She also loves, loves, loves, and is beautifully odd. While at different spectrums, I find her a breath of fresh air.

Lesley on how to keep a non-crazy making food journal

I also follow, for sanity purposes and a smile, The Fat Nutritionist.
Part of this unsure, weird world, of explaining storage proteins and acquiring a knack for finding weird text books and a bizarre lexicon of phrases that make my doctors ask me when I went to med school, is knowing when to laugh, and to brighten the gloom of constantly fighting for what's natural.

On the protein side, while I'm (A) using a heavier-fat milk than the can suggests, (adding 206 cal to my daily total.)  and (B) cutting scoop sizes to avoid the "Chunky milkshake" aesthetic, I finally found Spiru-tein, which was recommended, weirdly, by an earnest, and perhaps well-meaning jackass- I'm feeling better there. I'm doing something. For more information, go to Spiru-tein. It's a gluten-free mixture of spirulina protein, etc. The can says you don't need a blender, and done right, a cocktail shaker works fine for this. Just don't listen when they say "Add a HEAPING spoonful." Also: Chocolate is where it's at. :-P

...And Then, I Woke Up

For the past months or so, I've been working on a huge self-improvement plan. Because here and there I like to take stock and fix anything I feel is wrong.

I've also been fighting a return to seizures, to which we have no cause but an accident I was in in '03... boyfriend at time gets drunk and sloppy with friends. Boyfriend is... well, the most polite way of putting it... is/was a dick (who knows, he was going on 19 at the time, maybe he straightened himself out.) Boyfriend says something to a really drunk friend that irritates said friend. I never had seen this before, and I have not seen it since... the friend jumped into his lap and started hitting boyfriend with his head! (Blood ensues, I try to detangle myself as I am in prime position for what has to be the weirdest, most violent fight I've seen... and because I got accidentally bonked a time or two. They're detangled, and out goes Boyfriend into the 60 degree weather, looking for a fight. Bruised and bloody, guess who goes after him? (Barefoot, at that, it was summer, and sudden chill or not, all I could think was "I've got to get this kid home!"--and well, my "protect the baby chick" tendency.) Boyfriend is drunk, and rather politely referred to as a dick here. We'll not go into the massive stress and weight loss I dealt with or his need to separate me from people. I don't remember much...went to touch his arm to see if he was OK, and ended up falling (my memory and everyone else's are different, I was the only sober one however. He didn't want me drinking because I'd become a horrible alcoholic and because apparently, I can't hold it and become a little bitch. Some prince.) and hitting my head, hard on a raised sidewalk. I was out of it a number of days, after forcing him, and promising in weird delirium that of course my family wouldn't be mad! Among other things. Apparently they'd never wanted me to be happy, yada yada. -to let me go home, as sharing a twin bed (which I hated) with a 6'2", 200 pounder is not conductive to restful sleep. (especially if you are ending up on the edge between mattress and boxspring. I broke up with him just before the July 4th festivities. Or rather, the cops did, with my blessing, whole other story.) The massive headaches I'd fought from age 8 started... I tried to ignore them as I could and just get things done. In spring '04, I ended up starting a day badly, being frustrated by everything, fighting like crazy with everyone concerned, hating light. and having a bad appetite. After thinking "rest, I need rest"... I sat down to try to do so. All I know is: At the time, we had a couch with wooden bits for ornamentation. Mom heard a sickly crack, crack, crack and ran in to see me in full-blown seizure mode. With the help of a friend, RIP, <3,  missed dearly not just for being there and saving my life (When she knew something was up, she grabbed me up in fireman's carry and rushed me out the door.) I was out of it, but got out of the ER some 6 hours later. As always, I was subdued and rather hung-over- feeling for a bit. MRIs and EEGs have shown "artifacts", but no natural causes. So far I've done the entire anti-seizure drug spectrum... when I was on Pheno-Barb, someone told me their poodle was on it. This did not reassure me. (The poodle had this bizarre walk and its head always drooped to one alarming angle. Poor pupper.)
After dealing for sometime, they stopped! I went 5 years without, and was feeling really very "chuffed"... (I had to use that word, I love it, so.)
and then stress got to me... life, mourning, etc... takes a toll sometimes, and I never can discuss things properly.

Recently, I couldn't shake a headache... Excedrin, caffeine, Imitrex injections... so remembered... hot baths help my head...so went and laid for a bit in hot water. Then I "came to" a bit, after apparently dozing... and realized, one, I had to move and fast... I inhaled water, and came up fighting and coughing. I spent some time, dressed only in a bath towel, on a blanket, not knowing what was going on, only that I hurt. Then it went black. I was hungover-feeling for another few days. I also had a really sore nose and throat for a bit.

I am working on having more days I can move than those I cannot. To ending this cycle. To figuring out things so I can fix them. I'm also not giving into a fear of drowning, screw that! And, I am going to be mischievous, and have fun.

Things That Make Me Say "Get Off My Lawn"

In the world of music, I don't care about genre... I do however, have to say, I don't wish to be "YOLO-ed" (James Bond tells us that one's not necessarily true!) and if I never hear "Tonight, Tonight" (There's, by my count 15 billion songs by that name, and I'm not linking a song I dislike and yet plays so much everywhere I go that it's become an earworm I have yet to shake) by um...Hot Chelle Rae (Google at your own risk, or go hang out at any store, beauty shop, cafe, whatever.) again, I will be absolutely delighted. God, what's wrong with kids nowadays? When I was a kid... (oops, when did I become a cranky old person.)---eh, get off my lawn!

Ok, children. Here's something from my generation (Well, if I'm going to sound like a cantankerous old fart, I might as well have fun with it.)

(Confession: I wasn't acutely aware of the androgynous look as a small child, and have a habit of cocking my head to stare at this... "Why does that woman have a mustache?" Nevermind the lead singer looking sick and having a cigarette burn, that always mystified me.) But the dancing couple is what charms and really catches my eye. Beauty!

See? Happy. Bright. Dreamy. Devil-may-care, perhaps. Ok, fine, not to pull a Tom Cruise, but I'll grab my big shirt and socks. I think it's time to dance.

Random Happenstance

I am slowly getting out in the world... I decided to take advantage of a need to get a haircut (wavy, thick hair+ summer=eek!) and test out my Merrell Wonder Glove shoes (Ballet flats, startlingly, don't work on AA width feet with a high arch... the vamp is too low and I over-pronate.) which I got when my ancient Adidas sandals began to fall apart. While on the same "chassis", as you will, as those God-awful "feetie shoes" (no, just no.) they work with both jeans and shorts and dresses, and I can pretty much do anything in them. So did that, on the way back on my exercise/ get out of house/ take care of my vanity exercise, I bumped into Mel and her daughter. We spent some time at Chuck-E-Cheese, and while I have a good case of the sniffles, I'm actually feeling a lot better. (I also washed my hands 14 times when I came home, but that's just me.) I celebrate my good days, and frankly, I had more fun than I might, say surrounded by sweaty, loud, drunk people. There's time to be an adult. Then there's time to let an almost-4 year old run you ragged. It was good for me, and that is the most awesome kid, and mom, I've ever met! :)

Surrender

I don't often watch "official" music videos, particularly if they're showing a cause du jour... another cringey moment is looking back at songs using what was the slang at one point (Holla Back Girl, anyone?)
But I loved this song for itself... one could analyze differently depending on whatever they're feeling at the time. Here is where I tell people, "Just close your eyes and listen.)

While Buffalo's Occupy Movement had huge roadblocks... namely, the organizers and protesters seemed more thrilled with dressing up like zombies and camping out by President McKinley's memorial, and when asked "So here's the problem. The Erie County Corrections system has been bad for years. What are you doing? What senators have been reached? Have you talked to staff from Erie County Corrections? Former prisoners? 'This is horrible and needs to stop' is a great starting point it can't be an end all be all..." they said, "Uhhh..." "Here's your issue. I have it here on the bright orange paper, zombie prisoner #35509. What I need to know is what is the end game? What is being done? You can protest as you like, but where's the clear cut goal?" (For example: Toxic waste in Superfund sites must be cleared. People are getting sick. We have talked to Senator Bruno, and are going to Albany. We are funding a clean-up effort. or: The people who were housed by the city, on land that was no more than a chemical dump site are sick, the children cannot play outside, and the city is saying "oops! Our bad!" we have to hold them accountable and pay for the people it housed on a toxic dump.) I wanted, as a tree-hugger, to believe, for a moment. But here, I see nothing horrid. No tent cities of mayhem, simply people wanting to believe they make a difference. And someone singing their heart out.

Horny Goat Weed

With my issues, and needing vitamins to keep going (A probiotic, and while I went there, I was thinking of what supplements my diet, not...yeah. I still get easily embarrassed. I'll pretend I didn't almost mention poo and move along.Shit happens, as they say. ) I find myself in health food stores here and there. There's the basics... the "Migraine Vitamin" of choice, Riboflavin, Magnesium and Feverfew, the probiotic, a multi vitamin, Vitamin D, melatonin... these along with scripts. I'm a lifetime hater of Big Pharma, but I sure do fill their coffers too :-( (This could go on and on.) are expensive as all hell everywhere, but there's something special about a health-food store as opposed to the vitamin aisle at Target. Of course I had to ask the hippish clerks about something... and managed to not stutter or blush my way through asking (Where was my shame? I think I was desperate after my drowning scare during the last episode.) about horny goat weed. If you need a chuckle, stop right now, and say it loudly, (People tell me I have a slight Southern accent that comes out here and there, and it really gets apparent when I say "Horny Goat Weed". Odd, but I guess a WNY-er has a malleable accent and we'll catch intonations.) "Horny. Goat. Weed." (I notice that some of my stats come from naughty sites where apparently they're in search of bubble butts and pigtails. This post won't help at all, and whatever floats your boat, man, but yeesh. I don't think a rubber duck is meant to be used that way.) Automatic giggle. A rather sweet old woman next to me couldn't help it either.
"That's for arousal," said the boy clerk.
I refused to dignify that with a response. No I didn't. I went where angels refuse to tread. "Well, yes. I've heard it can be good for migraines, do you know anything about that?"
"Well, maybe if you have PMS."
That's right. I discussed arousal, migraines, and PMS with a 22 year old man today. For my next trick...

Been working on calming. While burning sage is great if you wish to cleanse and rid yourself of whatever, it's a tad bit overwhelming. I find three drops of sage oil in a spray bottle of water helps a lot. Clearing the air. Let nature do what nature does best, take care of her own.

News Round-Up

I missed the weekly weird news round up, but have caught some things in the air. I'm not one for watching the news, but will attempt to get it from various sources.

1)A study shows that your friends could make you fat. (I'll set out the wine glasses, y'all. Bullet vibe races and B-movies, anyone? :) )
NY Times--- Point, Set, Match
Spark People is seeing flashes

Because I know we all gag for technical studies and medical mumbo jumbo, the study:
Plos One on Body Size and Social Life

2)My friend, Kristi's favorite, the Blessed Kateri is being canonized, with a miracle under her belt.
Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha- Living Faith
For those of you who said I need to go on vacation... you know how I'd like to go to Rome? *hint, hint* (I'm kidding, I'll get there, but this smacks of something funky to me):
Select International Using Bl.Kateri as selling point?

Oh, and apparently, the not-so-cute imp that almost ruined Risky Business and makes Top Gun intolerable  was divorced at last. Yawn. Let's see him jump on a couch about that. (Don't knock it, I've done it.)
Ok, that's it for entertainment. Apparently online mags will gag and groan with what Suri is wearing, that Katie Holmes seems to be concentrating really hard, or looking down when she's walking. Hmmm. I know these are people in public, but a private grace period could be best. *shrugs*.

Melinda Gates got in trouble with Catholics over her statements regarding her organization, that among other things, provides abortion to impoverished women.

There was an Excalibur vibrator. I had to at least search for it...sadly, that product is no longer available. You can call it crest-fallen... curiosity denied... I call it excitus interruptus.

Here's something special... while I'm simply taking time (and often pre-setting posts just so I can quickly say "I'm alive!" there are studies that show that social networks can contribute to low self-esteem.
So now we know: Our friends make us fat, and our online friends can contribute to anxiety. There's something to be said for taking time for yourself and not making it the end-all, be-all.

Are You Tired, Run Down, Listless? Could It Be Your Social Network?

Goodnight, Llamas In Pajamas

There are some songs only for "calming down" and getting ready to doze (some, like Goodnight, Irene, let's face it, startle me when I find them in children's songbooks... I heard a male/female duet where the titular Irene gets a voice on the second verse... "Last Saturday night, I got married, me and my man settled down, now it's a week and we're parting... think I'll jump in the river and drown"-- here is where "It's probably best not to analyze" is good advice.)

I'm new at this. While I'm not listening to a lot of Brahms (or any)... I do have some stuff I use only for calm.

Goodnight, Irene- Leadbelly
I'll Be Seeing You- Billie Holliday
Dream a Little Dream of Me- Ella Fitzgerald
Someone To Watch Over Me- Ella Fitzgerald
Somebody To Love- Queen (whatever works :)!)
Cheek To Cheek-Frank Sinatra
In The Arms of Sleep-The Smashing Pumpkins
Try, Try, Try (alternative, not album version)-The Smashing Pumpkins
Marathon-Tennis
Epiphany-Staind

If I work it right, I can doze within a relatively short time, and within the 45 minutes at a pop that the light-show turtle thing works before I have to press the on button again.

Here's Leadbelly. If you're a weirdo like me, this may well be calming. It might also be disturbing. But... so is so much of blues and jazz.


Recording circa 1943

Variations: A Thanksgiving Prayer For Change

glitter-graphics.com

"You've changed," gets bandied around like it's the worst thing in the world. Change isn't always bad... we need to evolve as time goes by. Tastes change, what we tolerate changes.

I cannot, will not be held down while I'm forced to rest. I will not worry that somehow, everything I've worked for, and everything I am working towards, is going to be snatched away. I've done that. It sucks. I'm replacing what I've lost, making do where I must, and getting those things that show me, once and for all, that I'm further away from the scared ghost-girl I was. I'm enjoying free air.

I won't worry about massive, well-meaning messages of "You can't"... all while (I think) the person means to say "Let me help you" either. I won't let myself be bogged down by being talked over or occasionally dragged. I can say no. And I think I can make a peep if I have to.

So here's to those special little pleasures--- enjoying the quiet under the stars, while listening to crackling and popping old jazz standards...to Billie Holliday and her bittersweet forays into I'll Be Seeing You... while waiting for sleep. Here's to sleep. Here's to being there for those I love. Here's to knowing I'm loved. Here's to laughter, here's to hope.

Skol.

Here's to... change. Here's to growth. Here's to never letting life make me mean, but to be, simply, myself, even if it's not what people expect. Here's to no angles. Here's to fighting, here's to peace. Here's to forgiving and moving forward.

It's OK to be angry. It is not OK to stay angry. I will not, cannot, let those wounds fester. If something hurts and angers and humiliates, it is up to me to say "That is not acceptable". Not to hold it in. It is up to me to let the past go. Here's to acceptance, and loving, and forgiving myself.

While I cannot control pain, yet, it will not control me. I will not be beaten down.

Here's to confidence, to not letting the world beat me down. To being something peaceful, to being kind. To understand. Not to be understood, but to understand.

Smile and Dance

Music is a healer, a back ground, a joy, a counter-point. It can make us laugh, or cry, or march (I always feel like getting up and dancing, no matter what, for Jean-Baptiste Lully's March For the Ceremonial Turk... it's so happy and bright, I've seen violinists playing it with closed eyes and a certain sweet smile I call the "Bliss Face".  A big bonus is if they stop towards the end to shout and then finish joyfully.)

Here are my favorites, with more being added. I'm always taking suggestions, from all across the board.

Radical Face: The Moon is Down
The Pogues: Turkish Song of the Damned (Name aside, it's pretty happy and boisterous.)
The Cure: Doing The Unstuck
Angels and Airwaves: Surrender
Hector Berlioz: Symphonie Fantastique (Perfect for the car, but March to the Gallows and Dream of a Witches' Sabbath may shock you)
Ludwig Von Beethoven: Moonlight Sonata 
Taco: Puttin' on the Ritz
Johann Pachelbel: Canon in D Major (There's a particularly lovely one for piano and strings... I have two, that, and a basic piano solo.)
Jewel: Sometimes It Be That Way
Marilyn Monroe: Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend
---More to come. As you can see, I'm presently in between a baroque and a classical place (there's a cute gag about baroque and a hard place, but that's more of a physical joke than a written one.)

Walk With a Walk That Is Measured and Slow

It's easy... so easy... to say I'm tired. I have to either honestly tell my ever-so-calm mother I either let exhaustion and the hard work of coming out of the shadow take over me Thursday, thereby missing her calls, or come up with something fascinating (Sure... she'll honestly believe I decided to go on a hot date on a Thursday afternoon. :-D !)
It's also easy to say "You're right. Honesty doesn't work. People are cheats, plain and simple, and we are irredeemable." (If said words do come out of my mouth, I hope I get a smack.) Or, listen. Just listen. Grieve a little that those who need to tell you that learned that. But I want to believe that there's hope for humanity, yet. That honesty works in the end.

I cannot let myself become what I dislike, simply because "that's the way it is". If I act in a way I dislike to prove to someone it's wrong, who does it help? No one. Period.
I cannot let myself be angered by accusations I know are wrong. They've been there before, they'll come again. The world keeps spinning. I can't be bothered... really, with everything else to put together, and to deal with, and to improve, and so on, I'm going to let petty gossip eat at me? Even if only I know, at that time, at that place, that something is a lie, it serves me nothing to become bothered. Sure, I'm going to wonder how so many fabulous tales of debauchery can be spun from whole cloth (Look, I'd like a debauchery filled vacation one day, preferably without finding myself hooked up to a saline drip in a hospital in East Bumfuk, due to dehydration or my body deciding it didn't like sudden heat,  ruining a vacation and leaving me exhausted.) and be amused... it's a bit more fabulous than spending time with phone calls from doctors to priests, (No, not that... that looks bad, now that I think of it... along with the physical, I want to focus on the emotional and spiritual too...)  to family, to whomever, to finding ways to while away those moments where you are, at that time, too exhausted or in pain to move properly. I refuse to qualify specious questions such as "Can you get out of bed?" with "Today"... the point is to be positive.

For now, my pursuits are limited. I'm slowly trying to get myself out. I take in fresh air, generally with an older crowd that is more inclined to sit and sip water in this heat, am thinking of sitting by the pool later. Still like sunglasses a lot. But am trying to get sun too.
I am going to do what's needed. I will not let anything steal away joy and peace. Whatever is in the past, whatever mistakes, whatever misunderstandings, I have to put there. There's no point in learning from them, if I keep making them, and letting myself be a little monster. The world is spinning. I'm changing, as we do, day by day. The world keeps spinning. I won't be beaten down by it. And one day, I'll catch that sharp, crisp scent of either sea air or the mythic peppermint wind in my nostrils. It is not where I've been. It's where I am, and where I'm going.

Image courtesy of We Heart It and the Daily Nail

_

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,

And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from his flight

To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,

For the children, they mark, and the children, they know

The place where the sidewalk ends.

_Where The Sidewalk Ends, Shel Silverstein  

Bring Me a Gladiator

"What do you do when nothing else has worked?"
Let's see... I've had the "Mind over matter" method... this doesn't really relieve anything, but it gets me out of a bad place where I'm quick to go after people who, to their defense, may be well-meaning... no, really, I don't enjoy being tugged or pulled, and sometimes, if I'm dozing in a car with sunglasses on, it simply means that the power of the automobile has lulled me to sleep, and tapping me and asking in a worried voice if I'm ok, may make me squirrely. (I'm really not at my best, first waking up... I recently got a groggy phone call (on my part) where I asked 1)Who are you? 2) Who am I? 3)What time is it? ("Well, I'm glad one of us knows. I'm going back to sleep before I say something horrid. Call me at a reasonable hour. Oh... are you bleeding?"- stemming from the fact that other than those who can get a hold of me anytime... everyone else had better be in jail, or bleeding if they wake me up.)
There's been pharmacopia.... (A veritable cornucopia of failed drugs, all of which have caused exciting symptoms... from rashes to a swollen face and throat, to anaphylaxis, to just making the problem worse...) there's been repeats of drugs I dread the name of. (I think my doctor might end up just having his head explode the next time I tick off "Allergic reaction, allergic reaction...")

But before the days of barbiturates (thank you, Bayer, 1860) and phenol, of Topiramate and Levetiracetam, what was there?

As this clip tells you, in its' more childlike, accessible and amusing way, the blood of a dead gladiator. (The blood of a strong man can help the body of the weak, or so goes the logic.)






 Sure, it's mentioned in the very bare minimum. Also, I have a tendency to pull off the dramatic "hailing" to break through gloom when discussing all this.

Mind Hacks

Between the first and the sixth century a single theological and several medical authors reported on the consumption of gladiator’s blood or liver to cure epileptics. The origins of the sacred or apoplectic properties of blood of a slain gladiator, likely lie in Etruscan funeral rites... _

From what I can see, if I so chose, I could take in the blood of an executed criminal. A bit unsavory in its' late practice in the early 20th century, and more so now with risks of pathogens.

See also: Roman Vampires!

So, to modernize this, could I use, say, an American Gladiator? I wouldn't necessarily have to share fluids or even disrobe. Could I feasibly use them for warmth and healing by talisman (sort of the idea in "lucky charms" worn by patients, I'd think)--- by sleeping next to but not with? Is it gross if I ask "Where is Russell Crowe when I need him?"
Tonight, I'll dream of shields and breast plates. And the men in between them.

Every Journey Begins With a Single Squeak

*Being angry is not so wrong. Much comes of anger, in the right place... finally, the "Ghost Girl" says no, loudly... (As a friend said once, "Every journey begins with a single squeak.") instead of merely whispering it. It'll be hoarse at first, uncomfortable, awkward, harsh. Saying "I love you, because you're you, but when ____ happens, I feel sad and ashamed," is tough, but better than the hell-fire laced alternative. (That is, venting, all at once, at the wrong time, rather than breathing... or taking the time to talk through things when calmer.) It is staying angry that is wrong and feels so awful. Forgive, bless, and move forward

*Avoid clutching at facts and figures when someone is making you mad. It won't help you to suddenly spout, "I don't know why you mind being called Rufus. William II, William the Conqueror's son, was called that for his red cheeks. You're looking a bit scarlet yourself. " Bad, bad, bad.

*When attempting to quit cussing, this is probably the moment where quiet time should begin. I'm back to square one on mine. On the other hand, there's nothing so priceless for making me laugh than a nonsense, cuss-word laced sentence translated from Finnish.

*With anger, I try to divorce person from action. While I might get angry and say, "That's so ugly", what I'll be meaning is that the action is horrid. The person is removed from it in my mind.

I will not be the kind of girl who trots through a bar like Sandy 2.0 in Grease... it's not for me... I can learn to simply smile and be. If I am liked it won't be simply because I'm well-behaved (Also, I get a wee bit uncomfortable when I'm told "behave", even jokingly... I keep expecting to be treated like a pouty puppy.) While I'm "Miss"-ed a lot and asked to speak up in "loud" places, while I find myself awkwardly humoring people, I am learning to say no, one step at a time. That I am not good for anyone if I am not good to me. That I cannot lay down and quit. But I can rest, and I must... I've knocked myself silly, and I'm showing it.





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Where Trouble Melts Like Lemon Drops...

~Thanks to numerous doctors waiting rooms and just feeling wonky (so I have made myself slow down and "rest"--- and fought with myself heartily to do so) I have finished the first of the A Song of Ice and Fire series, Game of Thrones in record time, and am onto A Clash of Kings (it clocks in at 800 pages, but I can only watch Lucy cry because Mr. Mooney was mean or babysit the cute monkeys so many times at my doctor's office or flip through Family Circle circa 1968--- found a great recipe for weight loss- lime Jello with salmon. Ugh-so many times.) so am attempting to pace myself. Did spend time in the fresh air, attempting to avoid any conversations on oil prices and the price of gasoline going down a penny and up ten, but enjoying some silly. Apparently they want to take me out and get me a booster seat. Funny. I haven't heard that one before. 
Also looking for new music again, genre be damned.
I highly recommend:
The Pines- Cry, Cry Crow
The Wreckers-Stand Still, Look Pretty
Bob Marley and the Wailers- Redemption Song
Alister- Fraggle Rock
Falco-Rock Me, Amadeus

And will be back with more. I like the odd, the old, the fabulously silly...anything, really. Unless of course, I end up getting bits of it in diners, in which case... eh. Not my kind of atmosphere.

I am going to be fighting for my health as hard as I must, but hoping to distract myself and have some time where I am not needing to rest. I hate to say it, but had to tell one friend "Geez, you sound like I feel." Being more careful in the shower, as inhaling water as I did was not good, and I don't want anything happening. One day, I'll have this all behind me.

Lists

*Certain "tasks" or "chores" will become second nature, Those things that are already second nature... the weekly check, pruning (if needed) and watering of plants, and cleaning of house, plus cleaning of cupboards and surfaces will continue.
*Those natural things  that feel like tasks will be examined and worked on. There will be variety.
*I will enjoy what I like and quit letting people with an ax to grind get to me.
*I will understand that I can't do it all
*I will learn to say no
*I will fight for my needs, and let people know, politely, when they've crossed the line
*I will understand that I am not everyone's psychiatrist.
*I will once again have certain illnesses in the past... "I have dealt with ______" as opposed to being forced to rest more.
*I will let people know when something just doesn't work
*There are things that must be done, and they will be done. I will not however, hurt myself by getting lost in them while attempting to complete them.

Redemption Song

-Still awaiting transcripts... meaning applications for nutrition programs (If I'm going to live with it, I may as well help others... and I want to know what I can) will need to be somewhat delayed. Ugh.
-Doctors going a bit insane now after Saturday morning's little incident. I'm OK... a bit of water inhaled, guess I didn't quite get out of bathtub fast enough---that stings!--- can't say where 6 hours went, but hopefully I'll get it back... the last of a headache to bear, staying calm, enjoying fresh air and going through some things I know are enjoyable and will keep me calm
-Working on my timeout/ peace/ work towards improvement/ maintenance. Sleeping better... could be heat
-Guzzling water like a fish. Cool night air is nice. :)
-Insurance, etc all good and that pile of paperwork is done
-going to see about maybe enjoying some "girly stuff"/ improvement
-Not quite there on appetite front, but am trying. Once again, could be heat, could be Topomax, could be stress.
-Working on that "Learning to center" thing. That whole "Clear your mind thing" is usually the toughest part.
-Family? Sigh. Guess I gotta show and tell. Because there is no way in hell I'm going backward, and no one is taking away my freedom! (And I'll continue being stubborn.)
-My doctors are still all annoying, and on vacations. I intend to take an example and go on my own. One hand doesn't know what the other's doing, there, so I'm trying to keep things as documented as possible. I am getting to the bottom of things while they decide on medicines and whether repeat testing/ and what treatments to try in the future. And working on keeping all of me together. Going to pieces is going to simply screw me up. Letting people and their myriad opinions and questions and "Well, my great-aunt Sue's room mate's cousin's sister's dog had this problem in 1946 and they did___" conversations mess me up won't help either. I'll enjoy the little pretty things, keep some things and people close, and continue my goals towards improving. Nothing to do with anything, really. I've been on one of my occasional Bob Marley kicks.

Murphy's Law, Part 2

Murphy's Law, as I've always been taught, is this:
If it would ruin your whole day
If you would forever look like a blooming arsehole
--- it's gonna happen.

Or, more succinctly: If it can go wrong, it will. One moment while I banish that hint of cynic that occasionally likes to show herself.

I recently spent 48 hours hooked up to a machine all for it to screw up wonderfully. (There's a curious law of motion here: A Beth in motion can undo catheters, cause IVs to leak in such a way that you pray the nurse is not wearing whites when she decides to stick your vein while balancing your arm on her thigh... um... this is why there's those sling things, even if they end up making you look like you're being crucified... can take up an entire king sized bed when she still fits easily in a twin-sized bed and can easily sleep fetal position in a love seat or chair, and this Beth in motion stays in motion partially out of a fear that not moving means that I'll miss something/ something will go wrong. And I'll stay in motion, while undoing remarkable amounts of restraints, from "helping" hands to heavy blankets pressed into service.) Somehow, the machine, like many medical machines, from medicine pumps, to saline drips, malfunctioned. I was told at my last appointment that they might have to do this again. I think I gave them a dirty look. Apparently, they didn't check their equipment. Along with wire slippage, half of the posts I read on that test list battery power dwindling or showing an absurdly high number while malfunctioning.

Then, this week, after attempting to cure "heat and dehydratrion related issues"- I can drink an absurdly large amount in proportion to size... this may or may not be a good thing... but I have some missing plumbing, so y'know... heat can be a beast... I also was trying to rest from "Headache that wouldn't leave"... this I call "Uncle Screwtape learning to play the bongos." While able to relax in the one way I knew might relax me (and it did, I was freaking exhausted) I ended up having to get out of the bathtub as quickly as I could and grab the first towel I saw... and then go find the nearest soft flat place to lay down. Let's just say... this would have been an appropriate time to be wired up, if not sopping wet and wearing a big towel. Then, we may have had results. As it is, I know my neuro is going to go "But I just put you BACK on meds!" (That's kind of the problem.) While I don't know exactly what happened, it was hours before I was able to get up and relieve thirst, etc. And I can't say just how long all of that was. And if I'm going to feel like a Mack truck ran over me on a fine Saturday morning, I'd better have done some splendid yoga, or had some fun with "Happy Hans".

Staying Sane

If the heat is getting to you, take some time out. Grab something light and easy...who cares if you look like an extra from a beach movie circa 1950?

1)Banishing frizzies. Not gonna happen. Dealing with them? Yes. Wavy hair has a certain magic. Get it good and clean and braid it back. Let it out when you start getting that Pippi Longstocking look going on (unless it's Halloween. In that case, work it. A pair of heavy boots, striped stockings and a mismatched dress/shirt and voila! C'est easy!) And beachy "bitch curls" will be your reward. Scrunch with a little "Frizz Ease" and "After Party Serum" and they'll be shiny, too.

2)Be nice to your skin. Make sure to moisturize. Both the summer air and AC can be drying.

3)Breakouts? I'm pulling a double whammy on my skin.
First, the "Cleansing mousse" from Sephora (Supreme Foaming Cleanser)
The First of my favorite little marvels... then, after rinsing, I go through with a slightly heavier cleanser, rinse off, and then make sure any dark cirles are taken care of. And no matter what your skin is like, a light, but rich moisturizer is a must. I'll be a granny if I so choose. Then you can do your make up and stuff. Remember, it's amazing what a good brush and a little itty bit of color can do. You want "sunkissed", not "Oompa Loompa Meets Krusty" if you wear make up in this weather
Ok, so I tend to be low maintenance... except in my cleansing routine.
this Instant Moisture Kit works, and the stuff for eye circles is good, but I still like the Mary Kay green-jelly one with witch hazel. Because it feels so damn good in the heat.

4)Be nice to you. Don't let the heat make you cagey. And remember that if you mess up, have a day where you have an urge to kick someone, that it's ok... it happens. The trick is choosing to take some time and gathering yourself so you don't do that. Don't punish yourself for feeling that way. Give yourself a treat.

5)Sometimes, it's ok to take time out, for no reason whatsoever. 

As always:

Next time: I'll hopefully attempt Strawberry/chocolate shots, a science experiment for Kristi... lord knows, it's not like she needs new shot ideas! :)
And of course, at least once, I'll mix white wine with some grapes and strawberries. More fruit cocktail, I wouldn't be able to leave them overnight.

Making Peace With Yourself

Note: if you know me, you realize straight out: while I can be and have been teased gently by friends for being overtly lady-like "Come on, spit it out! You can drop the oh, dears with me!"-- I am far from a feminist. I also refuse to touch kale and hate the spelling, "wombyn" and other such terms with a vengeance. This means I mock them roundly.

A teenage girl organized a protest towards the "venerable" Seventeen magazine this year. Against photo shopping and dropping 20 pounds off its' models digitally. All well and good... I've seen numerous mags stand against Photo-Shop Weight Loss while showing what has to be a girl mannequin on a stick in the article. In response, Seventeen's editors partially discussed that they might change background colors, smooth wrinkles, and erase fly away hairs and acne, but would let what was natural shine through. Ok. And, they arranged the following. While some of it is pretty basic, it isn't, thank God, "I will sit quietly, I will remember that my eyebrows must be thinned and that there should be two, I will teach my cat to sit..."



Some is extreme teenage girl stuff. Some is actually universal. Know what? I support this highly.

For every gender. I can't tell you how many guys have told me they need to lose this, or wish they had that! And some of this isn't just body-stuff, or girly stuff. Some of it is common sense.

And sip...and sip... no slurping...

I've Got...Steam Heat

Heatwaves are always exciting. Partially because of all the people who get shocked that we do indeed get them. (My pet penguin is doing fine at the zoo, random odd ball I met years ago in the Carolinas. You liked my Sabres shirt. Also, I hope that hangover wasn't too awful.) Today, in the high 80's, it was enough that I ended up asking a bank teller for a glass of water. I was dry, cotton-throated, and a little dizzy.  My desperation knows no bounds.) I am getting used to Topomax again...the little buzz buzz buzz of a headache and the slight shadowing means I'm up for something, but I'm kind of used to that. I call it living in the Penumbra- outside of a shadow. I may have to adjust dosages... I am not thrilled that, as far as I and my neuro know, I have been on each anti-seizure medication on the market... (I'm almost hoping they pop up with something that can be advertised as "Less dizziness! Less agitation! Less weird, icky body issues! No more extreme (to me) haircuts!" (I had to chop it to just touching the shoulder to lessen the effect of depekote. I'd been trying to grow it to bra strap.) So, I'm fortifying myself...Gatorade, extra food, (Mostly fruits... I've gotten off S'mores and am hot for honeydew.) AC, have swimsuit ready, and screw arctic water conditions, if it does get to 92 tomorrow, I'm going for a dip. I mean, God, we have 2 swimming pools. (And lazy life guards.) So I am currently doing a warm-weather version of the comfort zone, because I am foggy and not quite with it. A lot of water is being downed, with Gatorade as back up as needed, because I have a bad habit of flushing out the salt and having issues. I also picked up some feel-good movies, and because I know me, a boxed set of Game of Thrones books. And a yoga set. I have to do something. Besides wander aimlessly, call doctors and dental surgeons, and worry.

Mom wants me to check in on massages. I am going to see what Happy Hans can do for me. And then go for a Happy Ending at Friendly's. (Hand to Heaven, I remember an advertisement for an ice cream-something of that name, and I had to explain it to my mother and the waitress.) I'm going to kick the bad stuff, in the mean time, I'm enjoying the good.


Current test in works on vitamin levels. I'm working on it. One step, one day at a time. And one day, I will not end up bruised after blood tests.

No Dromedaries

The New York Times has spoken! America has an influx of picky eaters, arming themselves with Tupperware containers full of bean sprouts.



Insert eats shoots and leaves joke here.

Yes, this makes things SO much easier! Like the time I was with friends at a bar and the bartender complained about a woman who so nastily complained about a lack of gluten free beer, I wanted to grab unknown woman and give her a talking to. Look, I can take the apologies when people reach for bread baskets, the question and answer forums when I'm seemingly subsisting on mashed potatoes and coffee, the comments on how this is how I keep my girlish figure, yada yada. It does seem though that when a step has been taken, the hypocrites who order GF and attack the bread basket (No! That's to be kept as a weapon of last resort if people keep apologizing to you for taking a roll... Jeez!) the rude, like above, and those who insist that it's all a fad. Trust me, if I didn't have a diagnosis, and thank God I do, I would not be able to control my sweet tooth.

Last year, we had a spectacular chef, one very fantastic Damian Cardone (Oddly enough, Damian means "sweet" in Greek. Just throwing that one out there.) who was heard to brag that he loved to add a special little glutenous touch to gf meals. This year, we have the always correct New York Times (An anagram server gives them the name "Monkeys write".)

We shouldn't have to repeat ourselves. But we do. We have to be polite, though. Because there are so many louder, ruder voices. We have to be examples. Mean what we say. Say what we mean.
And one loud idiot cannot silence those who need help. Not when there's been so much pain and so much work put in.

Dearest nephew of mine, I fight for you.
I fight for me.

No Wheat. No Rye. No Barley. No Dromedaries. (I toss that in on lists to catch people nodding off.)

Happy Independence Day!

While health has me taking it easy, I am enjoying my freedom with junk food, cheeseburgers, brownies, (very healthy indeed, the Wegmans GF brownie mix contains a stick of butter!) and whatever else I want. Because I made a deal with myself. Along with looking up recommendations on adding calories & seeing a nutritionist, as well as deciding on adding in Ensure (I'm not a big lover of gritty milkshake.) if I crave it (like today, I wanted cinnamon toast all day) I am giving it to myself.

No, we do not have a guaranteed right to happiness. We have a right to chase after it, and that is what I am doing. See me run. See me fight. See me party! Enjoy, no matter what you do. Be safe!
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The Sun'll Come Out...

I can't say things are coming to a fast resolution, or that I won't accidentally trip myself. I can say... hallelujah... it's been a good one, I'm not so panicky. I finally quit holding back from Mom... it's really a ridiculously stupid idea, as frankly, I have too many tells to try to pull off verbal and physical "nothing's wrong" poker faces. Nothing yet from Albany with my test scores... this is expected. My insurance is good 'til January and I can quit worrying over that and deal with the big nutrition-physical-emotional-dental balancing act. Thank God priests are free. And Martin Luther of course. I'd be a right mess if I had to buy my forgiveness! Or my sense of spiritual peace.  (The strangest two sentences you may ever read.) This week, I pick up some happy, fuzzy feel-good movies, see if Mel can meet me when I go pick up my purse at the cobbler (the leather dry-rotted, they fixed it.), good, the temporary purse is too gigantic and I think I lost an entire bottle of soda in there... hopefully sort the good news into a chunk that is easily told and understood (Yes! Good days! It's brighter! I see light!) A little panicky with people still, trying. Working on the whole eat-to-enjoy-eat-to-fill-without-issues thing. To help others heal, first, I must heal myself.



glitter-graphics.com Although this never hurts either. Trite, overly poetically licensed, but true.
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Say What's Needed

When I had my diagnosis, I promised myself my world would not revolve around food.

I'm tired, lately. Sore, easily bruised. I could easily shock people by saying "Dude, check out my enormous, throbbing...  veins!" (Or, hey, look, the opening from the IV from May's trip to the ER hasn't closed yet!)

Look, there's survival... eating, drinking, and eliminating as if by clockwork. Or, the anthropology professor's old favorite joke, the Three F's: Feeding, Fighting, and... (big pause) mating.

Why should I simply survive? Yes, I glow in the dark, I am not so much white as translucent. I know this. I'm getting help so I at least have color in my cheeks. (Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Mary Kay.) Yes, I slipped somewhere. I let the world get at me. What's eating Beth? The usual. No answers, more tests, leading to a certain hair-tugging mass of symptoms I call Mydoctorlikestoruntestsitis. I'm attempting to, in the spirit of living, as opposed to existing, either accept what I can't change, change what I can, and pray for the wisdom to know the difference.
So, the bad habits are being worked on, and I am trying to be nicer to myself if I slip up.

But seriously? Can I have a day without: "Oh, is that a pimple?" (Why, yes, I break out under stress. Thank you for noticing. While you're at it, please tell me how I look fat today, and gee, the cramps must be terrible.) And for God's sake: can I have some stinking variety? I am sick of gf pasta. I am, however on a S'mores and milk kick, but that could be just summer. Yes, meat is gluten free, as are vegetables, fruits, and milk, and for God's sake, can I put a bite of potato in my mouth without being stared at?! And please... if I am not going the right way, or fast enough, say something. Grabbing my arm will make me feel like I have to defend myself. I don't like being pulled, or pushed. Literally or figuratively.

Look, I am working on the spiritual, nutritional, temporal, physical, emotional. I am not letting it eat me up. But I think it's acceptable to ask that for God's sake, there can be some focus elsewhere?

Also: Never, ever, look at something I've done, like the redecorating I'm doing, or a meal, or anything really, and ask "who helped you?" No one. Because you beat it into my head that asking for help is akin to kicking Mother Theresa in the teeth. And know, there are some things I don't talk to anyone about, and would enjoy it if you could please keep your mouth shut, rather than going to anyone you can think of with those things, or bringing them up while I'm eating. Ex-husband+ food= Beth doesn't have an appetite for a long time.