Around certain times of the year, as the leaves change, as the flowers bloom, I find myself staring at the "Oh so simple" image that tends to get me "Miss"-ed by teenagers, I want to look like an adult. Without looking hard or jaundiced. Maybe it's staring uncertainty in the face: I've been told I wouldn't make it this long, I have lists of symptoms and take medications that make people blanch. If I were to photograph my morning or evening meds, I'd assume people might be like "WOAH!" --and that excludes monthly shots and daily vitamins! I like it sweet and simple... it gets complicated enough, you know... people's cracks beginning to show, or knowing that you can't do much but recharge and be strong for yourself---that I'm afraid I'm sending up too young of a look... and I'm the one who can go from appointments to impromptu hiking, all with nice clothes, mascara, makeup, carefully done hair, mani, the works. I can't do a full on "va-va-va-voom!" because I wouldn't be comfortable. But since I'll be doing fall shopping, I suppose it couldn't hurt to add in some things out of the usual black-white-gray-pink and dark jeans ensembles. Maybe even do what I was joking about and buy a Guatemalan belt... I can always use more belts, anyway.
Even my perfumes tend to be simple... I have, for example, a bottle of Grandma's Miss Dior from the late 40's, and even if it were new, I'd probably not wear it... because it's not the clean scent I know, although I loved Grandma-smell.
I've loved the "Grace" fragrances from Philosophy forever... Pure Grace has become the favorite, clean, soapy, with a hint of musk. Greens and violets, waterlilies. The added bonus is people who get close to me---a slippery slope!- who say "Oh, what is that?! I like it!" Not, "Lady, your perfume greeted me at the door!"
MY FAVORITE SMELLS IN LIFE: Cookies, fresh baking smells, oranges, "cold"---that smell around December, full of pine needles in the air... chocolate, coffee brewing, soap, freshly washed babies, just-washed cotton sheets. Pert Plus. "Man Stink". (You get it, or you don't.)
FRAGRANCE NOTES I AVOID: This might explain why I dislike French perfumes... those "sweat" notes. They're fine, fresh... but how long is sweat fresh? Those aren't reminiscent of sexy for me, but of "Woah, dude, shower much?"
So, I think I need help. I am an adult, while I can easily blend into a crowd of teenagers, and get kids' tickets sometimes, I like to be an adult. My mom tells me I was born 90 years old. I want to send up that I am, above all, a happy, sunshiney, pretty woman... nothing old-ladyish, nothing too tomboyish... I see that I may add some plain (not checked) flannel in, so will have to add something interesting visually. And maybe try some skirts before it gets too cold.
I forgot how to be social... because I had to recharge. Because I am recharging. I am trying to bring my confidence up.
Yeah... I'm working on it. Because in spite of everything... I don't want to lose what is essentially me. I'm scared of losing myself. When people tell me I've changed, like it's an accusation, it fucking hurts. Because it's humanity...not perfectible, but able to grow, to improve. And that's what I want.
I blog gluten-free
Friday, August 31, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Karma, Karma, Karma Chameleon
I see posts regarding karma a lot. "You'll get what's coming to you, you, you...wayward foot fetishist!" (Nothing against them, I wanted something sillier than the usual epithets.) "Karma will kick your butt!" Well, here goes:
If I were to believe in karma, (I mean, I have not only studied divine crime and punishment, but am a Catholic, after all... we're taught not to be superstitious. Or at least we're supposed to be. Stop giggling.)
I'd have to acknowledge good and bad.
It's not a sweet fuzzy blanket for the hurting!
I never know why so many people use "karma" as a stick to hit a person with. Yeah, you get what you give, all right, but isn't it a bit wrong to want someone to be harmed? (Answer: Yes, and not a bit.) Isn't there enough misery in the world without wishing that if Joe Schmoe from Bumfuk decides to screw you over, that Joe ends up being screwed over? It sounds lovely, like a little fuzzy comfort blanket: "The wrongs you do will be punished in this lifetime! By a force greater than you!" But... in the same basic way, isn't wishing wrong on a person a good way to get this same punishment applied to you?
I've been told, a few times I'll be punished unimaginatively. It brought to mind a scene from Monty Python's Spanish Inquisition sketch: "And now, the comfy chair!" That is, I translated "unimaginatively" to boringly.
Thanks, dolls... God bless.
Karma is this: Simple cause and effect! Explain little kids suffering and bad things happening to good people.
If I were to believe in karma, (I mean, I have not only studied divine crime and punishment, but am a Catholic, after all... we're taught not to be superstitious. Or at least we're supposed to be. Stop giggling.)
I'd have to acknowledge good and bad.
It's not a sweet fuzzy blanket for the hurting!
I never know why so many people use "karma" as a stick to hit a person with. Yeah, you get what you give, all right, but isn't it a bit wrong to want someone to be harmed? (Answer: Yes, and not a bit.) Isn't there enough misery in the world without wishing that if Joe Schmoe from Bumfuk decides to screw you over, that Joe ends up being screwed over? It sounds lovely, like a little fuzzy comfort blanket: "The wrongs you do will be punished in this lifetime! By a force greater than you!" But... in the same basic way, isn't wishing wrong on a person a good way to get this same punishment applied to you?
I've been told, a few times I'll be punished unimaginatively. It brought to mind a scene from Monty Python's Spanish Inquisition sketch: "And now, the comfy chair!" That is, I translated "unimaginatively" to boringly.
Thanks, dolls... God bless.
Karma is this: Simple cause and effect! Explain little kids suffering and bad things happening to good people.
When Being A Mystery Wrapped In An Enigma Sucks
It is not what I can't do.
It is not what I can't do, yet.
Here I am. There's a lot to me, humans are complex, and I, I am a human. I have my bad days, my ups, my downs, my anxieties. I can be weird and confusing, and maybe frustrating.
I wander the world mostly in t-shirts, jeans and those classy Merril shoes I picked up for $50, comfortable, feels like nothing, and can be dressed up with a skirt.
I occasionally braid in the morning with a "beach spray" and let the wind dry and style later. I like simplicity, I want shiny, clean, touchable curls, without worry they'll be "messy". I love to play with my fingers, whether twisting, or wringing, or just tapping out Iron Man without thinking. The fingernail tap isn't altogether a bad method for picking out music, Dolly Parton basically wrote 9-5 on her acrylics. They'll break occasionally, my nutritional values need to catch up. Until then I'll play with color.
I'm going to mess up here and there. And I'm going to learn not to beat myself up.
Sometimes, I may go through a crisis- I am now. I'm working through it. It's tough, I always was taught not to discuss it, and I feel a little a-drift, so sometimes, it might come out all wrong. I'm not easily understandable. I can only promise I'll try. After one person so nicely decided to turn everything I said into phrases I'd never mean, or use, like "I'm better than you", and things that made me so sick and uncomfortable, I had to stop myself before I said, "My mom is the only one who can talk for me, and I hide my irritation only because we shared a body once." I also detest when I feel people are talking at or around me.
I'm not attempting to be an enigma, or to confuse... I'm simply fighting through. It's been a lot to take in, of late, family friends who have sudden brain aneurysms, trying to deal with fears, new victories, new sadnesses, uncertainty, a need to do things I'm incapable of now.
It is not what I can't do, yet.
Here I am. There's a lot to me, humans are complex, and I, I am a human. I have my bad days, my ups, my downs, my anxieties. I can be weird and confusing, and maybe frustrating.
I wander the world mostly in t-shirts, jeans and those classy Merril shoes I picked up for $50, comfortable, feels like nothing, and can be dressed up with a skirt.
I occasionally braid in the morning with a "beach spray" and let the wind dry and style later. I like simplicity, I want shiny, clean, touchable curls, without worry they'll be "messy". I love to play with my fingers, whether twisting, or wringing, or just tapping out Iron Man without thinking. The fingernail tap isn't altogether a bad method for picking out music, Dolly Parton basically wrote 9-5 on her acrylics. They'll break occasionally, my nutritional values need to catch up. Until then I'll play with color.
I'm going to mess up here and there. And I'm going to learn not to beat myself up.
Sometimes, I may go through a crisis- I am now. I'm working through it. It's tough, I always was taught not to discuss it, and I feel a little a-drift, so sometimes, it might come out all wrong. I'm not easily understandable. I can only promise I'll try. After one person so nicely decided to turn everything I said into phrases I'd never mean, or use, like "I'm better than you", and things that made me so sick and uncomfortable, I had to stop myself before I said, "My mom is the only one who can talk for me, and I hide my irritation only because we shared a body once." I also detest when I feel people are talking at or around me.
I'm not attempting to be an enigma, or to confuse... I'm simply fighting through. It's been a lot to take in, of late, family friends who have sudden brain aneurysms, trying to deal with fears, new victories, new sadnesses, uncertainty, a need to do things I'm incapable of now.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sod That!
Last time I went to my neurologist, it turned into this delightful routine.
"Well, (Full first name censored) Beth, we don't know what to do with you. Your EEGs are messed up, and the MRIs are a little... funky..." (I'm translating doctor-speak, although I prefer this one over Dr. This-Is-Your-Life-And-Here-Sign-This-Waiver-So-Sorry-A-Pretty-Girl-Like-You-Has-This... Your-Life-Is-Over. I walked out, of course.) But, we are reasonably sure you have...*whisper* black-outs..." I face-palmed, literally. The cracking noise must have been horrid. "Don't do that! You'll give yourself a migraine!" "That's also why I'm here," I said, and calmly collected my stress ball, my purse, and my phone, which I'd been whiling away waiting time with with a 1,500 point game of Space Invaders and was feeling good about until I was rudely interrupted and they killed me. Boo. Well, sod that for a game of soldiers. Before I left, I was given the new Demon Medication So Vile It Was Brewed In Satan's Asshole-Du Jour... which ironically, considering the effects I got, besides fever, chills, vomiting, dizziness and confusion... is billed as a mood stabilizer as well. I just wet myself. Congrats, best Neuro in the region! Your bedside manner makes me wish for a referral to Dr. Mengele, and that's pretty bad indeed. But, that had actually been a "good day" for me, characterized by me not wearing sunglasses indoors or wincing (too much) at lights directly in my eyes.
But September 5th: Double booked as usual...for this and the B-12 shots for pain (they've begun using smaller instruments for me... they're a little freaked out that I'm so easily bruised.) it's time to look them in the eye: "You are my doctors. I pay my insurance company, it pays you. I think that makes you my employee. If I feel wrong about your treatment, I have the right to say something. Nowhere does it make it right for you to make ridiculous assumptions. And any medication, in any dose, can mess with anyone. Period. Anti-seizure drugs are serious business, not a packet of Smarties. You are going to do something, not run tests you know lead to bad readings, not assuming... you are going to get to the bottom of this, or I will find someone who will."
That's right, as much as it pains me: I'm going to have to face down a healer with an attitude.
"Well, (Full first name censored) Beth, we don't know what to do with you. Your EEGs are messed up, and the MRIs are a little... funky..." (I'm translating doctor-speak, although I prefer this one over Dr. This-Is-Your-Life-And-Here-Sign-This-Waiver-So-Sorry-A-Pretty-Girl-Like-You-Has-This... Your-Life-Is-Over. I walked out, of course.) But, we are reasonably sure you have...*whisper* black-outs..." I face-palmed, literally. The cracking noise must have been horrid. "Don't do that! You'll give yourself a migraine!" "That's also why I'm here," I said, and calmly collected my stress ball, my purse, and my phone, which I'd been whiling away waiting time with with a 1,500 point game of Space Invaders and was feeling good about until I was rudely interrupted and they killed me. Boo. Well, sod that for a game of soldiers. Before I left, I was given the new Demon Medication So Vile It Was Brewed In Satan's Asshole-Du Jour... which ironically, considering the effects I got, besides fever, chills, vomiting, dizziness and confusion... is billed as a mood stabilizer as well. I just wet myself. Congrats, best Neuro in the region! Your bedside manner makes me wish for a referral to Dr. Mengele, and that's pretty bad indeed. But, that had actually been a "good day" for me, characterized by me not wearing sunglasses indoors or wincing (too much) at lights directly in my eyes.
But September 5th: Double booked as usual...for this and the B-12 shots for pain (they've begun using smaller instruments for me... they're a little freaked out that I'm so easily bruised.) it's time to look them in the eye: "You are my doctors. I pay my insurance company, it pays you. I think that makes you my employee. If I feel wrong about your treatment, I have the right to say something. Nowhere does it make it right for you to make ridiculous assumptions. And any medication, in any dose, can mess with anyone. Period. Anti-seizure drugs are serious business, not a packet of Smarties. You are going to do something, not run tests you know lead to bad readings, not assuming... you are going to get to the bottom of this, or I will find someone who will."
That's right, as much as it pains me: I'm going to have to face down a healer with an attitude.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Broken Hallelujahs
My body is weak, and while uncertainty of any sort drives me to insanity... lord knows, I lost myself somewhere last week... to those I frightened... it's later... I was a shit. I can only be humble. Trying not to say "I'm sorry," so I imply it when needed.
Still attempting to sort through the muck and find my center... which also sort of got lost, but the rosary bracelet, and my prayers, however teary and frantic they may well have been, my broken hallelujahs, were sent up.
Spending time down by the water didn't give me that "Sad Walking Music"/ "Dust In The Wind" type thinking... in fact, as I've often told friends: "Do me a favor: don't let me think"... I simply was entranced by sunlight dappling the leaves and the calm creek I climbed down rocks to be closer to. That's another thing: I am going to do those things people often warn me not to do... "You're fragile, you break easily, physically... you really want to trust that your broken pelvis healed, considering that it was helped along by a congenital pelvic deformity?" Yes, yes, I do. I want to climb, I want to jump, clamber, dance to my internal composer. (I have the shoes to do it in, too... and don't think that 15 years of gymnastics will let me waste their flexibility.) I want to get out there and kick ass as only I can. See, I'm nothing if not stubborn... life has not let me have it on a silver platter, but I am blessed, and that, that lets me know that I will be blessed again. I may be shy around some right now, I may screw up... but I am finding my peace as needed. I'm not fragile mentally... God knows... I can't be. I may take my frights and bumps, but I will dance, and I will show joy, hope that I can make people smile, (there's no use to having a tendency towards really weird sarcasm if you can't wring out a belly laugh occasionally.)
I'm hoping to an end to tests and uncertainties, although I know, after getting a diagnosis, I will probably be tempted to send "I have a disease!" texts that to the wrong person, could be really awkward!
See me? There's more than the sad girl, the sweet girl, the girl who lets others emotions tear her. I am going to be a little surprise, and if change in me saddens you, tough shit.
I am a bad ass mofo!
And this? No reason, but it's among my favorite lullabye songs, and it isn't heard very often.
Still attempting to sort through the muck and find my center... which also sort of got lost, but the rosary bracelet, and my prayers, however teary and frantic they may well have been, my broken hallelujahs, were sent up.
Spending time down by the water didn't give me that "Sad Walking Music"/ "Dust In The Wind" type thinking... in fact, as I've often told friends: "Do me a favor: don't let me think"... I simply was entranced by sunlight dappling the leaves and the calm creek I climbed down rocks to be closer to. That's another thing: I am going to do those things people often warn me not to do... "You're fragile, you break easily, physically... you really want to trust that your broken pelvis healed, considering that it was helped along by a congenital pelvic deformity?" Yes, yes, I do. I want to climb, I want to jump, clamber, dance to my internal composer. (I have the shoes to do it in, too... and don't think that 15 years of gymnastics will let me waste their flexibility.) I want to get out there and kick ass as only I can. See, I'm nothing if not stubborn... life has not let me have it on a silver platter, but I am blessed, and that, that lets me know that I will be blessed again. I may be shy around some right now, I may screw up... but I am finding my peace as needed. I'm not fragile mentally... God knows... I can't be. I may take my frights and bumps, but I will dance, and I will show joy, hope that I can make people smile, (there's no use to having a tendency towards really weird sarcasm if you can't wring out a belly laugh occasionally.)
I'm hoping to an end to tests and uncertainties, although I know, after getting a diagnosis, I will probably be tempted to send "I have a disease!" texts that to the wrong person, could be really awkward!
See me? There's more than the sad girl, the sweet girl, the girl who lets others emotions tear her. I am going to be a little surprise, and if change in me saddens you, tough shit.
I am a bad ass mofo!
And this? No reason, but it's among my favorite lullabye songs, and it isn't heard very often.
Cold Comforts
Do not look at me and think of all I cannot do, either now because things went funky and I'm fighting, or because I'm simply not capable, yet. Do not look at me as the sum of all my parts... she's sickly, she's scary to me, she... *gasp* isn't perfect, has had a hard time here and there, and sometimes, sometimes, she'll see people in pain and hurt like hell for them. Look at me, for what I am...stubborn, willing to fight for what's right... if I am wrong, I can apologize later. I am not perfect, but I think I'm pretty damn fabulous, and I can pick myself up after it's been rough... yes, I'll be sad, or have confusion. I am human.
Don't give me bizarre half-promises and fill me up with all sorts of nice things... "You're sweet, you're strong, whatever you do, don't become jaded, I want you in my life, I feel... guilty..." don't tell me not to say goodbye a million times and then get to the point where apparently, I'm too real, too open, too sick, to be looked at properly. Don't think I'm only after one thing... I don't look at people and see what they can do for me, the sum of their parts. I am frightened and confused.
See... I want very much to run from this. To not be worrying about more answers I don't have, to not have this feeling like I'm being... avoided until I no longer cause a sense of guilt.
I don't see people as simply people who can do things for me... I get emotional, because I can see good, even when it's hidden. I don't like gentle lies. I can't gently lie.
I want answers, treatments, not to be worried, or frightened that I lost a friend. It does get to me... I do get frightened. That I am apparently so embarrassing, that to say "She's my friend" has lost luster. I don't want uncertainty! I'd like to run from me, be healthy, be able to smile and avoid things that are too real for a while.
Look at me... I am not physically strong, but I am spiritually so... I can fight, I can be there. But understand, I am not just a sick, sweet girl. When I give friendship, it's because I saw something... goodness, joy... I care nothing for pasts, for what you must apparently show to the world... it's the person, plain and simple.
Don't give me bizarre half-promises and fill me up with all sorts of nice things... "You're sweet, you're strong, whatever you do, don't become jaded, I want you in my life, I feel... guilty..." don't tell me not to say goodbye a million times and then get to the point where apparently, I'm too real, too open, too sick, to be looked at properly. Don't think I'm only after one thing... I don't look at people and see what they can do for me, the sum of their parts. I am frightened and confused.
See... I want very much to run from this. To not be worrying about more answers I don't have, to not have this feeling like I'm being... avoided until I no longer cause a sense of guilt.
I don't see people as simply people who can do things for me... I get emotional, because I can see good, even when it's hidden. I don't like gentle lies. I can't gently lie.
I want answers, treatments, not to be worried, or frightened that I lost a friend. It does get to me... I do get frightened. That I am apparently so embarrassing, that to say "She's my friend" has lost luster. I don't want uncertainty! I'd like to run from me, be healthy, be able to smile and avoid things that are too real for a while.
Look at me... I am not physically strong, but I am spiritually so... I can fight, I can be there. But understand, I am not just a sick, sweet girl. When I give friendship, it's because I saw something... goodness, joy... I care nothing for pasts, for what you must apparently show to the world... it's the person, plain and simple.
No Storms Here
People keep insisting I must be depressed... and while I've had my fair share of lunacy, lack of answers, made tough decisions that may or may not have been needed, and tried to keep out of others' ways while I attempted to sort my problems out... I'm not actually sad, really... not anymore. I guess I'm not saying it correctly, or people are looking for that smell of blood. I'm merely attempting to do more than survive and wait. I'm trying to simply laugh, appreciate the small victories, sort through things, work on the Centering Project, and find my places where, after the lunacy of it all... "We don't know, but here, try this medication", and wanting simply to feel normal, eat normal... yeah, I might be anxious. Thing is: this is not the first time I've dealt, won't be the last, and I know there's something good out there. But other peoples' anxieties and/ or their diagnosing... it's why I've perpetually hated "What's wrong?" "I have no answers, I need a little help, see... life is being crazy, and sometimes, yes, I need to break away from it for a bit." is not in my vocabulary.
Sure, there may be other thoughts and worries, but that's something to take up with the appropriate parties. Not attempting vagueness... this just makes noses twitch for blood. But I'm taking time for the happier things... not focusing on what's wrong, what's iffy, what sounds really strange to me right now but might be explained later. Maybe I sound immature and stupid to others, or like a dreamer on one hand... I'm not letting the discord get to me.
And if it's all too much, and too crazy, I'll find myself down by the water, where I'll be calmed instantly. I'll do what I have to, but I trust my soul, and I am going to smile. It's not what's right for anyone else, it's what's right for me.
Sure, there may be other thoughts and worries, but that's something to take up with the appropriate parties. Not attempting vagueness... this just makes noses twitch for blood. But I'm taking time for the happier things... not focusing on what's wrong, what's iffy, what sounds really strange to me right now but might be explained later. Maybe I sound immature and stupid to others, or like a dreamer on one hand... I'm not letting the discord get to me.
And if it's all too much, and too crazy, I'll find myself down by the water, where I'll be calmed instantly. I'll do what I have to, but I trust my soul, and I am going to smile. It's not what's right for anyone else, it's what's right for me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)