A SuperMoon not only affects nature, such as the tides and wildlife, it also affects us. Our emotions will be heightened, our senses will be sharp, things that were hidden or in the shadows can now be seen.
The November Full Moon is also known as the Full Frost Moon, so-called because the frost and ice will start to set in as the earth grows colder. Animals will start to hibernate for the winter months, the last leaves will fall from the trees, and the land will become barren.
The Moon is rising in the sign of Taurus. We are amidst some strong planetary alignments that are heralding a need for great change and revolution both inside and out. Our attitude is of utmost importance during this time and can empower us and see us through whatever we are facing. Gratitude for what we have and a willingness to move with the energy that is calling us is required now.
This particular Full Moon will not be boring and will have an unpredictable vibe along with it. The places we have been feeling stuck in our lives may suddenly begin to move or shift. If emotions are clogged, they may surface and flow; let them, don’t hold anything in, let your emotions out. Be aware of dualistic thoughts, emotions and behaviors, as this may be generating a lot of mental stress and tension, plus sending out mixed signals to others and the Universe. Try to stay grounded and find balance. Finances are illuminated on this Full Moon, to watch what we are spending and to improve or bring in any extra income we can.
Tonight’s Full Moon brings change. We are coming to the end of the year, with Yule and the New Year fast approaching, we must become empowered to make the changes necessary to shift our situation. It is up to us, the time is now. We must let go and surrender to the deeper current that is transforming us. You are the master of your destiny. Take your power back from society and other people. Learn from your past mistakes. Vow to do better next year. Make a commitment to your success. Be adaptable. Make friends with change. It is not the enemy. Change is your friend. Change sheds the old and gives birth to the new.
This Full Moon is about communication, higher learning, and our sense of creativity and adventure. Something has been building inside of us and now is the time when the energy of the cosmos demands that we let it out. We are magnets to our desire now. We have the power to attract what we want toward us. Taurus is the sign of strength and truth; this will give us a boost in mind power, as we will be able to see things more clearly. We will see our own truths and a fog will be lifted that can show us a path that can lead us into improving ourselves both spiritually and mentally.
This Full Moon look into yourself and ask yourself what you need to move forward. Ask yourself how you are going to achieve this and ask yourself if you feel that you are strong enough to do this. If you feel that you are not strong enough, use the energy of this Full Moon to heal and gain strength. Ask the Goddess for guidance and to lead the way to a more positive, happier life.
Tonight is a good time to determine what you value and what you stand for, what you want to create in your life and carry forth into the next cycle of your evolution.
Have a blessed Full Moon. May the Goddess watch over you.
Last month, a client booked me for the first two weeks of September. Upon receiving her manuscript two and a half weeks early (She genuinely seemed to think that was okay.), I put my foot down and said I would not start until September 5th since she had not booked an earlier spot. She, surprisingly, agreed. I’m not being paid enough to do all that she’s demanding, and I mean it when I say the list keeps growing, but I made a commitment and I’ll honor it. Pray for my eyeballs and back, please. You know where I’ll be for the next two weeks. 😦
Normally I don’t mind proofreading and providing notes for someone, but this time I realize it’s the money that’s insulting me. It’s not befitting of my experience and what I bring to the table. The client hired nine other people, along with me. In my opinion I find it more cohesive to work with one proofreader. Conflicting thoughts and opinions is best left for your beta readers, not a proofreader. Demanding pages upon pages of notes when you’re not even paying my hourly rate for the entire job is enough to enrage me. However, it’s 100% my fault. I agreed to do it, knowing in advance that the money might cover 26 cans of cat food or a tiny amount of food for a human. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. 😦
If you’re an inexperienced high school or college student, this would be a little play money or Ramen noodle money for you. For an experienced adult, it is insulting, but again, 100% my fault. I have no room to complain or bitch, despite doing so, because I agreed to do it knowing what was involved, partially. Please, someone schedule me for a brain MRI, stat. I want to make sure it’s still in there.
I am in the midst of a week-long flare-up, after spending less than a week walking over fifteen miles. That’s nothing for most people; fifteen miles. They don’t even know they walk approximately ten miles a day (this is considered the national average of walking a person does daily, but a lot of my friends have told me they do the bare minimum, which means I actually move more than they do!), but for a Fibromyalgia patient, walking fifteen miles over the course of five days is the equivalent of running a marathon or winning Olympic Gold. It’s impossibly painful at this advanced stage, and yet I somehow managed it. I have yet to claim my reward. 😉
Between migraines and the pain in my back; I’ve found it immensely difficult to sleep. I’m struggling with my allergies as well, so all of these things keep me awake when I want to be asleep and make me sleepy when I want to be awake. Melatonin and/or my allergy meds have provided up to 12 straight hours of sleep some days. My body always goes through this before the Fall Equinox, but a lot of this began in August, so anyone who thinks Global Warming is a joke is wrong.
And so, I sit here on Labor Day, isolated from the world. I’ve felt alone most of my life, truly alone, but this year it’s worse. There’s no one to watch baseball with. There’s no one to ask if I am making hot dogs or hamburgers, if I’m making fries, or inquire as to whether or not I got pie. Being intentionally isolated by family and friends is incredibly hurtful, but feeling like I have to withdraw even harder to keep myself in tact is worse.
I have spoken to one friend via Facebook messenger, another via e-mail, and received a few text messages inquiring about my health. The only genuine concern I’ve received today, the only genuine love, has been from Cat and Kitten. Of course, Kittens’s love is a continuous thing, growing each day. She chooses to spend time with me when she could be off doing silly cat things or sleeping. Cat, not so much. She has been better these past few days; bringing me toys and giving affection. She is being sweet, which is her general disposition. Perhaps she has felt much as I’ve felt these many months; unhappy. The only difference is, she is given love and care every single day. I’ve never abandoned her. I’m allowed to feel less than human, and what’s worse, I’ve been told I am less than human. It’s a wonder I haven’t killed anyone yet.
Ultimately, there are worse things in life than someone trying to be cruel and failing. There are people who have lost their homes and everything they own due to floods and fires, there are people who are homeless through no fault of their own, people who have died or been injured in earthquakes, and there are people who are sick and dying because no one gives a damn. “Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes.”; this is one of the most honest phrases ever written and yet, I have continually found it to be true. Far too many people think a politely worded lie will mend the damage done. I’m certain I live in a world where things get more bizarre by the day.
If you are in the States, I wish you a happy unofficial end to the summer. If you’re not here, be glad, for we’ve got a maniac running for President and crazy shit happening on the daily. Nothing is as simple as it seems. Nothing is ever so cut and dried.
I, for one, will be glad to see this day end, and hopefully everyone dealing with the remnants of the tropical storm is safe and sound.
I apologize to all of you for not writing this weekend. I fully intended to complete a post yesterday, but I had to prioritize a horrible Fibro flare and today, despite one of the worst migraines in my life, I forced myself out the door with sunglasses practically glued to my face, on a 30+ minute trek to say my final goodbyes to OGK.
I had hoped there was something that could be done for him, but as I sat with him, I felt his body temperature getting lower and lower, which I know is a sign that a cat is rapidly declining health-wise. I’ve said goodbye to too many not to know the signs.
OGK was abandoned at some point in his cat life in a college town. If you’re a college student and have ever abandoned a cat to the streets upon the end of a semester or graduation, there is a special place in hell for people like you. Cats are a 10-25 year commitment. If you can’t make that commitment to an animal, get a fucking tank of goldfish, but do NOT get a cat and then leave it behind, or worse, move while the cat is taking a walk because you’re stupid enough to allow it to be an outdoor cat. If you’re halfway human, find a no-kill shelter and surrender it, but do NOT toss it out likegarbage and abandon it; it is a living being. It probably loved you, if you weren’t a complete and utter douchebag!
I am personally allergic to cats and proudly owned by two, whom I adopted as kittens. I will take allergy medicine, get shots, whatever it takes, to continue being their mother. There are no excuses. They know this. They know I love them. They know I would walk through fire for them. They are my cubs.
OGK was one of the rare, lucky ones who was rescued from near-death by a family member. It didn’t take him long to decide that he liked me, high praise for a cat that didn’t trust many people, and frightened easily in the early stages of his transition from street-cat to “Royal Highness”. I spent a full month in total, many years ago, teaching him to “own his property” and be the “man of the house”. Every time I saw him, he gained more confidence. It was much like watching a flower blossom.
OGK and I had our differences. He liked to wake me the second I fell asleep (Not good for my Fibro and worse when I had migraines. I have NO patience, and he tested me regularly.), he liked to meow his displeasure at me, but when he needed me most, once in February and again today, he knew I’d be there for him 100%. He knew I could be trusted and that even though I often yelled at him for waking me and driving me insane in those early stages, that I did indeed love him. He understood that I wasn’t truly being mean, that we were just learning things about each other. He allowed me to comfort him when he needed it most. He allowed me to be his friend.
At roughly 3:30 PM EDT, OGK was put to sleep to end his suffering, and my G-d, he was absolutely NOT okay and to allow him to go on as sick as he was would have been evil. He was approximately sixteen years old. But above all, he was LOVED.
I will miss his teddy bear face and his soft ears. I will miss the times he purred just for me. I will miss star-gazing with him and watching the moon with him when it was just the two of us. I will miss saying goodnight to him, when I would whisper “Goodnight my little muffin man, Auntie loves you. Come and get me if you need anything.” I will also miss him keeping me company at times when I am certain I was only good company to a cat.
When I came home this afternoon I picked up my youngest cat and said “Promise me you won’t leave Mommy until you have to, okay?”
Hug and kiss those you love the most. Squeeze them tight. Nothing in life is guaranteed. Not even tomorrow.
I would apologize for not writing anything of substance over the past few weeks, but I’m not sorry for sparing all of you. I’ve had little I’ve wanted to talk about, not just where writing is concerned, but in my daily life as well. When that occurs, I find it is best to retreat inside myself and wait until things are quieter, calmer, less insane, or I reach some semblance of ‘all of the above’. I do have things I will discuss moving forward, things I’ve psycho-analyzed or things I am in the process of psycho-analyzing, but the day-to-day shit? Absolutely no one wants to hear what goes on inside my head. They’d either drop dead from the speed of my thoughts or run screaming into the great unknown. I know, because I’ve tried to do both. It turns out that, at times, your mind is your own worst enemy.
I have been busy working on my passion project. I rebranded it, as I have been doing it for three years and wanted to make it something special and unique to me. I am now able to see it with new eyes. It is becoming rewarding and refreshing, and I believe that with determination, strength, and fortitude, it will continue to grow into precisely what I’ve envisioned it to be, if not end up in a different direction, far larger than I could ever dream possible. I am trying to devote a lot of my “free time” to this because ultimately, it is a career change and is helping break me out of my comfort zones.
My mother used to say “Do not be afraid to dream big, for the dream precedes the goal.” Inspirational words considering I was pretty young when she said it the first time, but she continued to repeat it whenever I’d lose faith and/or get discouraged. There is NO expiration date on your dreams.
In case you were wondering, this is how Kitten rolls in hotels. She jumps from the floor to sit on top of the refrigerator. See the defiant little face? #JustLikeMama
Cat and Kitten are slowly making progress in their new environment. Cat is such a sweet, loving, gentle soul, but she’s generally passive by nature, so I was concerned about how she would integrate. I don’t want her to be bullied or get hurt. She’s not a fighter. She has learned how to jump over obstacles, like the pet gate, in order to get to me and/or explore. She’s been dealing with OGK quite a bit in face-to-face moments. Some of their interactions go well, others do not. He chases her out of the living room most of the time, if he sees her at all. Often times, he sleeps through 99% of her living room antics. She’s stealth, I’ll give her that. It’s hard not to laugh as she darts around corners, looking for my approval before she goes exploring. One night he chased her and cornered her in my room. He hissed like a lunatic, but she stood and watched him. She refused to back down and I was so proud of her. She is coming into her own and showing how strong and brave she is. She has finally gotten to a point where she’s back in my bed, sound asleep, whenever possible, and has gone out of her way to remember her kitten days and crawl into my lap, despite the fact that she no longer fits. I know this normal part of our Mommy/Cat routine is why she has often looked dejected and depressed these past few months. It makes me sad whenever I see her big gold eyes staring at me as if to say “Can I come out now? Why is this gate here? I want to be with you.” I know that in another month or so, there will hopefully no longer be a need for the gate, but for now, I can say it has truly been a God-send.
Kitten took much longer to emerge, and she’s the Alpha of the two, so I decided to physically remove her from her foxholes. I had to pick her up, bring her downstairs, and force her to immerse herself in the new. She fought with me like a toddler as I carried her downstairs, and immediately tried to leave the second I secured her behind the pet gate. She discovered almost instantly that the new gate is easy for her to jump over (I’m pretty sure she could scale a six-foot wall with ease. She’s huge, and taller than most domestic cats.), so I often find her un-corralled, but only when there’s food involved. If she senses OGK; if she sees or smells him and no one is with her to get in his way, she will hop right back over the gate and either watch him or hide. She’s still hissing at him on occasion, but it’s an innocent sound, a “back off” warning that she is giving him for getting too close. What bothers me the most is her visible unhappiness and depression over not being with me 24/7. She’s a Mama’s Girl, and she does not appreciate having her access to me blocked, yet getting her into my room practically required pulling teeth. I am proud to say that she is finally comfortable enough to come downstairs on her own, albeit under my watchful eye. I was coming out of the kitchen one day and she was sitting in the picture window in the living room, staring at me. Unfortunately, in my joy of discovering her out and about with such confidence, I locked OGK in the kitchen and when I went to check on him, the doorknob fell off in my hand. I spent a good 30 minutes trying to re-attach it in order to get him out, feeling terribly stupid. I nearly broke a tweezer and a scissor in my efforts. Thankfully, the handyman is quite handy and was able to fix it in less than a few minutes. He then lapsed into a story about keeping a screwdriver in his bathroom, as the very same thing had happened to him one night, leaving him to try to unlock the door in the dark. It was a little TMI, but he was just trying to make me feel better in a time of great stress.
For roughly the past two and a half weeks, she’s been making it into my room safely, all on her own. She is now comfortable getting into my bed and plopping down beside me for a belly rub and kisses. She’s slowly exploring “our stuff” and is so much happier to spend an hour or two with me as opposed to being solo. So, that’s progress. 😀
I miss them because they’re not with me all of the time. They’re my babies and I love them, but the exhausted, drained, Fibromyalgia part of me is glad that I get some alone time because I spend a lot of time these days feeling physically weak.
As for the Fibromyalgia; essentially it means you are fighting a war inside your body. I need to remind myself that self-care isn’t selfish or wrong. I need to stop being so hard on myself. However, I also NEED to push myself physically and not allow this disease to rob every single day of my life. When I hit the point where I am unable to write, which is usually by 10:00 a.m. most days, I feel terrible amounts of guilt. It’s not that my brain is lacking in ideas, it’s that the pain is overwhelming and when you physically cannot do something, the creative process has to take a break.
I stay in bed when I have to, merely to rest, but I’ve been here for almost four months and I have absolutely no social life to speak of. I do nothing fun. 😦 That’s got to change, ASAP! I’m starting to feel like OGK’s vet’s office is my second home. I am by no means ungrateful or unappreciative, I simply need a reminder that I am young and have a life to live. It’s hard doing that when you spend five days a week talking to cats for 8-10 hours, and harder still when the weekends come and you find yourself sick (my migraines have been brutal), or unable to form complete sentences without sounding like a lunatic.
For anyone who thinks that Fibromyalgia doesn’t affect the brain in some way; you’d be wrong. I am normally sharp, quick-witted, loquacious, intelligent, and direct to the point where it makes people squirm, but lately I cannot handle conversations that require a great deal of thought, and I absolutely cannot deal with stressful shit. I’m already on the high-end of having no patience, but I am currently so frayed at the ends that there’s damn near nothing left. To add insult to injury, I fell in the shower a week and a half ago. I didn’t break anything, but I expected an epic bruise. After all, I fell entirely on my left side from shoulder to knee. Surely that leaves a mark? Either I am extremely slow in the bruising phase or the aches under the skin simply didn’t warrant bruising. Who knows. It took a full week for me to be able to sleep on my left side again, and the fall sent me into a terrible flare-up. Even as I sit here now, I am in a world of pain. In that world, pain laws are changing, and not for the better.
I am disgusted at pain patients being labeled as “drug addicts” simply because many of us require the use of opioid pain medications in order to do the simplest things a healthy person can do, like walk the dog, take a shower, take out the trash, grocery shop, etc. When I was healthy, I walked endless miles in Spring/Summer/Fall day. It never occurred to me not to walk ten miles one way and ten miles back, because I was out and doing things I wanted to do. I was an athlete. My world came crashing to halt as the early stages of Fibromyalgia began surfacing. One after another, these evil things made their way into my life, but it took years before I agreed to take pain medication. I’d worked for professional athletes and experienced firsthand what genuine addiction post-injury is like. Many of them lost their lives before age 40. I refused to go the same route over pain, though my doctors were calling certain things “injuries” and sending me to physical therapy and other useless wastes of time and co-payment money back then. It took research before I demanded to be tested for Lyme Disease and Lupus. I’d been tested for everything else, so I was convinced I had one or the other. When both tests came back negative, my doctor told me the only plausible explanation for every single thing I was experiencing was Fibromyalgia. Perhaps I’d heard the word in passing, but I’d never given it personal credence until that day, where I was unfortunately way too focused on the fact that I did not have Lupus, to ask the questions I should have. I’ll never walk out of a doctor’s office with a diagnosis again and come away with unanswered questions. I don’t care if it’s a challenge to the physician or not, it saves me from agonizing over it online, which isn’t always the best resource for someone newly diagnosed with anything, especially not during a time when the word Fibromyalgia was barely used. I think research is an excellent tool once you’ve gotten a second, third, or even fourth opinion, but don’t let it make you feel powerless as you read other people’s stories.
Pain patients are NOT addicts. I have yet to meet someone who suffers as I do, as many of us do, who did nothing but pop pills all day long. We’ve all looked at alternative forms of treatment, we’ve all tried different things in order to manage our pain, but in the grand scheme of things, we are NOT criminals for needing the medication and no one should ever make you feel as though you are. If you meet a pharmacist that refuses to fill your prescriptions, please contact the main office of whatever pharmacy you use and file a complaint against them. Also, call your state’s pharmacy board and file a formal complaint. You won’t cost him/her their job, but they WILL be sent to continuing education courses before they are allowed to return to work handling controlled substances, and in some instances, that might very well be a crucial move to save others from what you may experience.
I had to do this myself when a portion of a controlled substance I take went missing from the bottle after it had been counted and bagged. I didn’t have time to count them in the store, who does? I was encouraged, in fact, by my cousin who is a pharmacist and deals with pain patients regularly where she works, not to worry that I may have cost the pharmacist her job (she assured me that they rarely get fired for a first time offense), and that I had the right to demand the full pill amount that was not in the bottle. If it had been a pill or two, I wouldn’t have said anything, but it was nearly 60 pills missing (an enormous cut from my monthly script) and the pharmacist implied that “Maybe I’d taken them myself”. She actually said that to me. My response was “In three days?! I would have OD’d if I did something stupid like that, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?” If she’d said it to my face, she would not currently have one. I was enraged and we’re not even talking about a prescription for pain medicine.
My brother, post major open-heart surgery, was given very small prescriptions for pain medication, despite the fact that breathing, coughing, and moving around too much were excruciating. The pain has only recently stopped, but I assure you that it was not properly managed except when he was in the hospital and that knowledge sickens me. He’d never in his life experienced so much physical agony, but the first thing I was warned about in caring for him post-op was to make sure he wasn’t “becoming addicted”. I nearly laughed looking at the pill count on the prescriptions. You cannot become addicted with 40 pills, nor can you become addicted on 20. Not when it’s your fourth time in your entire life taking prescription pain medication. I looked at the hospital staff like they were all mentally disturbed. I suspect the subject, as it floats all over all forms of media, will continue to produce angry moments and thousands upon thousands of stories. Don’t hesitate to take to the written word if you aren’t treated with respect as a pain patient. But don’t get discouraged if more than one doctor doesn’t treat you as the used to moving forward. Nothing would shock me. 😦
I hope everyone is enjoying Spring and had a wonderful Ostara (or Easter). Passover is later month and while I, personally, don’t celebrate it the way I did when I was younger, I find that this year, I care more about being around family than the holiday itself. Of course, this requires energy I don’t currently possess, but perhaps Patient X will visit. He was released from the hospital on Monday, minus the Life Vest he has worn since being released in November post-surgery. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing (no longer wearing the Life Vest), especially since the additional surgeries he was supposed to have/need are currently off the table because he is too young. I do know that if my brother ends up dead because someone was negligent, there will be hell to pay. I might very well call one of his doctors myself and try to get some answers. My brother’s not big on words at the moment. 😦
I’m glad that my current state of insomnia finally produced something worthy of being posted.
I’ve had roughly six pain-free hours in the past two weeks, so bear with me. I could never say “I hurt.” enough. 😦 That’s not even the appropriate terminology for what I’ve been experiencing, and I hate it.
Pain isn’t always physical. For me, it often is, but sometimes pain is also emotional. I don’t care who you are; we’ve all been there. Whether we care to admit it or not, it is a fact of life, in varying degrees. No one lives a supremely happy existence 24/7. If they do, they aren’t human.
I hate making plans for a day, or even two consecutive days, and not being able to do much of anything, save washing my face, brushing my teeth, caring for Cat, Kitten, and OGK, and doing simple things, like a load of laundry, or cooking a meal. I know for some people, the thought of cooking a meal as a Fibro/Chronic Pain patient means “heavy duty work” (and it’s something so many of you have told me you no longer do, for various reasons.), but for me, it truly is simple nine times out of ten. If it were too much for me, I wouldn’t do it. If I couldn’t do my laundry, it would simply pile up. There are days when I just want to walk out of the house and not come back. Far more than I care to admit. The past few months, I have felt that way a lot. More than a lot. It’s been a daily struggle.
It’s unbelievably lonely living in a state where you only know three people, where you’re almost completely isolated, where the TV and your laptop (and the cats) are your best friends. It’s not just lonely, it’s sickening and pathetic. But here are the facts: I am not a joiner. I do not talk to strangers simply to “connect” with new people. That’s not me. I am not a small talk kind of chick. I will not discuss nonsense with anyone simply to have something to run my mouth about. You’d think some people would appreciate that level of depth, but instead, people simply see it as me being unpleasant, a bitch, or any number of other things that aren’t true. Ultimately, the truth of the matter is, I am too honest. I lost my filter many moons ago, so if you ask me a direct question, you may or may not like the answer, but that’s not really my problem.
I make an exerted effort to pull back on my temper and be supremely polite and engaging, but if a situation really doesn’t involve me and there’s nothing for me to say, I will quietly observe. The last time I checked, this was not a crime.
I’m hurting, and no one sees it. No one cares enough to do so.
I want to sit, eat chocolate, and cry until I cannot see. Perhaps I have not received the support I need because this is the first time I’m voicing the distress I feel, but come on?! How blind is everyone?! Things are so bad in my life at this moment, I have no idea how to pull myself out of the mess that it is, and yet, all the outside world is going to see is the girl with the makeup on who forges ahead. I could be bleeding out of my eyeballs, but no one would notice that, not unless it started spraying everywhere which, I agree, is completely unsanitary, despite the fact that I am free of blood borne diseases.
My attention span is so poor that it has taken me several months to finish a book I would normally read in a few hours. I cannot watch an hour of TV in one sitting, because my mind wanders and then I have to rewind it back to where I was initially paying attention. And yet, I somehow managed to sit through one of the worst movies EVER (I’ll tell you which one if you ask nicely.) in two sittings, desperately waiting for the fucking plot. Guess what? There wasn’t one, it was absolute garbage. I’d like to get that two hours of my life back, along with three hours from a few years ago that I had to spend dealing with a family member’s meshugas. I’ve since stricken this person out of my life much the same way Ramses tried to strike Moses out of The Ten Commandments (If you haven’t seen this movie, shame on you.).
Too often people refer to their autoimmune diseases and mention how it deeply affects their brain function. They are 100% correct in that it does affect our thought process, among many other things. There are moments when I feel like someone has erased huge chunks from my mind, yet I can recall other things with perfect clarity, to the point where it’s terrifyingly eerie. So, call it “Brain Fog” or “Fibro Fog”, but whatever it is, I definitely feel it more often than not. Last night, at dinner, I momentarily tried to figure out where the piece of bread came from on my plate. I’d been eating not ten seconds before, but I drew an absolute blank staring at this small piece of bread, one of my absolute faves, because I couldn’t recall it being there. I catch myself mentally checking out, shutting down when I shouldn’t, and it’s a miserable feeling. Don’t ask me what I did this week because, unless I wrote it down, I haven’t the foggiest fucking clue! 😦
Before I forget, I want to discuss someone being attacked for suffering from Lyme Disease. I absolutely HATE IT when hundreds of people come out of the woodwork and accuse a fellow sufferer of an invisible illness of faking it “for attention”. As if! Yes, there are people who DO fake all kinds of illnesses, but this person is someone with integrity. She’s not creative enough to make this shit up, and she so desperately wants her old life back that there’s no way in hell she’d put herself through a “fake illness”. It’s not gaining her anything, being sick, so for people to think that and make their accusations public pisses me off.
Lyme Disease is a complicated son of a bitch. It can happen to ANY of us at ANYgiven time, so only the ignorant are the ones wasting time judging. Lyme can lie dormant for YEARS and is one of the largest, growing epidemics in the world. If caught early, you can be treated with antibiotics and go about your life, but if the disease has been in your system for 10+ years, it is going to take its toll. Most people have no reason to be tested for it, but I’ve been tested for it on a regular basis since I was eight. So, I know precisely what I am talking about.
Instead of allowing fellow autoimmune sufferers to be bashed, we should be banding together in support of those who hurt the way we do. Being a good person means doing a little research sometimes. Being a good friend means you do the research when your friend is suffering, and by no means do you allow others to denounce their pain and suffering. We all know that our symptoms can be co-morbid with other illnesses, it’s a fact, but the next time I hear someone disrespecting a fellow sufferer to the extent that this person has been attacked, I will seriously open up a can of whoop ass on those doing it Steve Austin stole that line from me back in the day, not the other way around. 😉
Now that that’s off my chest, the weekend is here, it’s freezing, there’s a little snow on the ground, and yet, it will be 70 degrees on Wednesday. I kid you not. I am already taking allergy meds, so I suspect this Spring might very well be the death of me, and really, I was hoping to just drown myself today around noon. 😦
Patient X was scheduled to undergo another procedure, but it has since been postponed indefinitely. Hopefully I will get to see him for Passover, if not sooner. I’m sending out prayers in advance to my best friend’s father, who is scheduled for heart surgery in a few weeks. Scary, scary shit. 😦
I am off to do wild and crazy things, like contemplate sleep (or watch the rest of The Originals, you’ll never know which! LOL.) and/or hunt down a cupcake.
“There is an intelligent healing process inside of you that knows how to absorb pain and transform it into wisdom. But to heal, you have to give yourself to the pain. You cannot avoid facing yourself your whole life. If you avoid your truthful emotions and pain you will implode and contract into a diminished and unfeeling state. Growth and empowerment require reflection and facing the frightening, ugly, hard and unbearable reality. People are often clever masters at fooling themselves and not seeing the obvious right in front of them. One of the fastest ways to move through your pain is to get a grip on reality. Real transformation requires real honesty. If you want to move forward — get real with yourself!”
What profound, intelligent things can I say today? I won’t give myself that much credit as my thoughts are scattered at the moment, but hey, it has been known to happen. 😉
On occasion, I wish people wouldn’t give me such rich material and expect me not to write about it (That’s okay, the status quo is in tact.). Generally, those who do such things have no idea it’s being written about because they take no real interest in me as a person, but at this point, you’re opening yourself up to be cannon fodder. I make a point of protecting the guilty by never naming names. 😛
Most writers will write and speak from personal experience, even in works of fiction, because daily life is ridiculous and downright comedic at times. I often look around for hidden cameras to make sure I’m not part of some bizarre reality show. Half the time I feel the need to double-check to make sure Ashton Kutcher isn’t going to pop out from behind something to tell me I’ve just been Punk’d. They really need to bring that show back…
I got a surprise phone call yesterday afternoon from the store where I purchased my mattress, the one that somehow managed to have a spring crack and pop through the pillow-top, thus causing a hole that hadn’t been there two weeks prior when I first discovered it. This has been going on since August. When the “mattress inspector” came out early Tuesday morning, and by early, I mean he was here at 8:45 and after a few photos and my signature, wished me good luck with my move, I figured that even with visible proof, I’d be forced to replace it sometime next year. I cannot begin to explain how painful it is, but the inspector was nice. He said they’d take care of me “Even if you are a Yankees fan.” LOL. During the inspection he pointed out that the entire area where the spring popped is caving in slightly. That explains why I have often felt like the mattress was uneven (Total blonde moment. I can say for a fact that I was blonde when I started thinking there was something wrong with this thing.).
The lady from their service department sounded really nice when I answered the phone, but I thought she was lulling me into a false sense of security. When she informed me that the inspector’s report was that the mattress is damaged (“He said your mattress is stain-free and in perfect condition despite the damage, which is clearly not your fault.”), I was thrilled. I paid very little for a higher-end mattress because I purchased it during a big President’s Day sale along with most of my other bedroom furniture. She said I could come into the store anytime as there is now a massive credit on my account, all I have to do is pick out something new and by the way, they’re having a 50% off sale for Columbus Day. My jaw dropped. I cannot begin to express how grateful I am. So, later today (tomorrow if I still feel like crap) I am taking Case Study #2 with me so that I can get a second opinion on mattress comfort. I openly admit I only sat on this one before I chose it, and because my Fibromyalgia has progressively worsened since then, I felt it was important to do some research on the best mattresses for chronic pain sufferers.
I’ve always wanted to upgrade to a Sleep Number bed, but I’ve read mixed reviews from pain sufferers. Memory foam has always felt painful to me, but there is now a new type of memory foam with some kind of gel in the core, so I went on their web-site and found three or four different mattresses to test. No matter how I cut it, I’m still making out like a bandit because they issued me the full price despite the fact that I bought this one on sale. I’m going to look at this as a gift and a blessing because being in pain while I sleep is agonizing. Whoever is looking out for me from up Above, THANK YOU. This means replacing my pillows after the move because I always have a difficult time finding good ones that remain good. Maybe this time I won’t need so many and can downgrade to six.
However, in my joy, I found out there are also plenty of painful, unshed tears inside me. I don’t want to move and leave what little I have built here behind. I’ve enjoyed living here, for the most part. I’ve enjoyed the area and all that has become familiar to me, but in order for progress to occur, I have to improve upon instead of remaining stagnant. I have to focus on my health and make some big changes before I can consider anything else.
What pains me most about this is that I am leaving behind my closest family member, which is making me worry beyond words. I have looked out for him since before he was born. I take the responsibility of being a sister very seriously. We spend an extraordinary amount of time together for siblings (He gets mistaken for my father or boyfriend constantly because apart from a few features, we don’t look alike.), and I know I will be sick with worry every single day that I will get a phone call with news that I will feel responsible for.
I have taken care of my brother since the day he came home from the hospital. I took care of him even more after we lost our parents. Leaving him behind now makes me feel like the worst person on the planet. No matter how many times he & I have discussed other options, we were railroaded, so now I’m left with no other option. I will be 2-5 hours away in an emergency, depending on my method of transportation, and I am worried because he’s never truly been on his own before. He has always had me to rely on to bail him out of trouble and to look out for him. I always say “Call or text me so I know you got there safely.” and “Call me when you get back, so I know you’re safe.” He constantly makes me worry. We can go for days without speaking and our relationship is not perfect, but he is still my brother and I’d hate myself if anything ever happened and I wasn’t there for him.
Does he feel the same? I honestly don’t know what he feels. He isn’t the most communicative human-being when it pertains to emotions. I’ve only seen him cry three times in the last decade, and that number might be too high if I think about it.
Since informing him of my decision, he has been angry and volatile. He has accused me of abandoning him and said we won’t have a relationship at all once I move, that he’ll be “cutting me off” emotionally. I’ve repeatedly said “We can talk every day, we can text, we can e-mail like we always do, and we can Skype. I’ll be back in a flash if you truly need me and you can always come and visit.” He’s said he won’t visit, which might just be how he feels now, but I truly don’t know. I do, however, feel that he has some major growing up to do and since I was recently accused of “holding him back” simply because I provided unsolicited advice, I feel like it’s time to let him learn the way he’s always chosen to learn; the hard way. It makes me sick to my stomach, I’m terrified over what he might get himself into, but I also know in my heart that I have done everything I possibly can for him and he’s chosen not to change or grow. You can no longer help someone who doesn’t give a shit about the things in life that are truly important.
Cat will miss him terribly. She worships the ground he walks on. Since the first night I brought her home, she has adored him. He was the first person to hold her, the first person she purred for, the first person she chirped at, and the first person she ever gave kisses to. If I thought he could truly care for her the way I do, I’d let them be together, but I know he can barely take care of himself and that the responsibility of a cat is not in his wheelhouse at the moment. I know she will search for him and miss him, but I also know she will never forget him. And I do hope he’ll change his mind and visit a few times a year, because it’s not a huge trip to make when you only have a bag of clothes and your laptop with you. I am hoping that time will show him that I’m not abandoning him, that I’m giving him room to spread his wings. No matter where either of us are, we will always remain siblings. That’s an unbreakable bond, though I realize for many, that the bond does break.
The day he was born my exact words were “I didn’t ask for a little brother. Can we send him back? I specifically said I wanted a baby sister.” I was lovingly informed that I don’t get to choose that sort of thing. God has given me sisters in the form of my closest friends, and for that I am truly grateful, but when it comes to my brother I suspect I’ll always have mixed emotions. Even when we’ve gone years without seeing each other, we have still spoken regularly and communicated better than when we’ve lived in the same home or city/town. Perhaps this is precisely how he learns to be a better brother.
He has, often quite begrudgingly, been there for me these past few years as my Fibromyalgia has worsened and my migraines became more difficult to manage. He has taken out my trash and recycling, picked up medication, brought me emergency supplies when I’ve been sick or in too much pain to get out of bed, done library and post office runs, and been my partner-in-crime nine times out of ten. He has helped me when I’ve needed help, cared for my familiar when I’d go on vacation, dropped me off at the airport and picked me up, even when the timing inconvenienced him, and fixed things for me when I wasn’t 100% certain how to do it myself. No matter how many times I say thank you or do something to show my appreciation for these things, he tells me he has “outlived his usefulness”. Unfortunately through all that help, he has also been highly disrespectful, overly demanding, and extremely abusive. He always expects to be forgiven simply because he is my brother, but it is not always possible to forgive unforgivable things. I realize that is a lesson he needs to learn for himself.
So as I proceed, I am certain my eyes will be swollen shut at some point from all the crying, but hopefully he will flourish without my presence. I will never stop being his sister or his friend, but I’ve done all I can to “keep the family together”, my Grandmother’s dying plea to me. Maybe it was an unfair request, but I think I’ve held up the three promises I made to her before she passed away, to the best of my ability, as this was long before my Fibromyalgia diagnosis when I only had two things plaguing my life.
I don’t know how to turn off the maternal gene, it’s ingrained in who I am. It’s possible I have always been overprotective. Here’s hoping that one day my brother can look back on all of that and know in his heart that I’m not abandoning him, I am simply making important changes with a hole in my heart. I cannot allow guilt to make my decisions for me. I cannot allow tears to hold me back, because no matter what, my life and happiness are equally important.
I pray I am making the right decision for all involved. I also pray that he will soon realize that I’m not choosing someone else over him, but that I am choosing me for the first time in my life.
Another night of barely present sleep has me sitting here stressed. I should be boxing things up in my bathroom or going through my closet, but it’s cold, even with the heat on, the wind is insane, and I think I have to give myself a break today. From the neck down, everything hurts. If I don’t rest through this flare, nothing will get done as I lose a week to bed-rest, so I need to give myself a day here and there and cut myself some slack. Rome was not built in a day. I cannot pack up my entire life in a few days either.
I’ve been contemplating breakfast for several hours. Is it weird that I want mashed potatoes? LOL. Hot, comforting, and fast because they’re already in the fridge and all I have to do is heat them up. Alas, I came upstairs to write instead.
I will organize laundry next, as the store I bought my mattress from is finally sending someone out to inspect it on Tuesday, “sometime between 4 and 7”, and while I always change the linens on Sunday, this time I want to make sure that everything is good to go for that. Hell, I might even make my bed. It would be the first time in a few years. Don’t judge me, no one cares what it looks like so long as it’s clean.
The person who was originally working with me in regard to this issue is “no longer with the company”, so I am afraid that this hole in my mattress will be blown off, as opposed to the person being able to feel the spring popping up and authorizing a replacement. I am going to ask him outright if this thing is a lemon (which I suspected less than a year after sleeping on it. It shouldn’t have gone from the best thing EVER to “I want to replace this.”) or simply defective. I informed the store that I was moving and because it’s a regional store, as opposed to nationwide, if they do replace it, they’ll have to get it to me before the end of the month. At the very least, if they deliver it the day I leave, it’ll be wrapped and good to go into storage for a while. My bed is huge when you factor in the entire piece of furniture, so I will have to get them to send me instructions on how to take it apart since it took two men to get it in here and put it together. It was expensive or I wouldn’t be so concerned about taking it apart and storing it. It’s special to me and while it’s no longer pristine as it was when I first bought it, I’d like to be able to keep it for the foreseeable future. If not, a trip to IKEA is in my future. It’s been so long since I’ve been to IKEA that I look forward to going, which should be sad, but I think it’s a good idea. If nothing else, I might find some great ideas moving forward.
Tomorrow I notify my final editing client of the year that I will be taking the next two months to move. Technically I don’t need all of November blocked out (I will buckle down and finish her manuscript once I’m settled), but I won’t have Internet access immediately because the company that runs everything where I will be moving knows nothing about customer service. I’ve spoken to them twice and I can assure you that they’re drunk on their own Kool-Aid. The fact that I said I didn’t want a two-year agreement nearly sent two agents into a tizzy. “You will be so satisfied with our service, we are certain you will want to keep it for years to come.” Yeah, whatever. When Verizon moves in, and inevitably, the demand will secure their position, I am GONE. I will do whatever I have to in order to leave you and return to the company that has been amazing to me from day one. If I didn’t need the Internet, I’d let it fly, but I can’t work without it. If I’m going to be without it for more than a week on my laptop and tablet, it means I’m on the vacation of the century. Verizon is more along the lines of “We can be there tomorrow; would you prefer a morning, afternoon, or evening appointment?”, but these assholes told me installation would be 5-10 days from the time I place the order, but that I can choose the date to coincide with my arrival. How kind of you, since you’ll be sucking money out of me every month like leeches. The whole thing annoys me, but ultimately, having Internet access is important. It’s how I get shit done.
Ultimately, I am trying to make peace with my decision. The more negativity I deal with here, the more I want to be gone. I want to get back to being the woman I used to be. I deserve to be able to be myself without having to mask 99% of what I think or feel, or be told that it’s wrong. Overall, the things I will miss about being here aren’t as large as missing chunks of myself. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt or that I’m not upset about it. I am. However, there comes a time when you have to stop sacrificing pieces of your soul
When my mother had her accident, she worried that she was holding me back because I stayed put to take care of her. I would not change that decision for anything in the world, even though I was completely burned out in the end. I would not have been able to look at myself in the mirror if I didn’t know exactly what was going on with her. I would not have been able to enjoy anything in my life knowing that I wasn’t a good daughter, the kind she deserved, the person she raised me to be. I may not have been able to keep her alive in the end, but I remember a time when my Mom wasn’t strong enough to leave a bad situation and I was her strength. Now, I have to be my own.
Tonight is The Full Harvest Moon. It is called the Harvest Moon because at the end of September crops which were seeded in Spring are ready to be harvested. It is the final harvest before Winter, so crops, fruit, and grain would be stored to last through the winter months. The Harvest Moon is very bright, probably the biggest and brightest Moon of the year. This morning’s lunar eclipse and Super Moon will create extra strong tides and energy flows, disrupting sleep and energy levels.
Tonight’s Full Moon is in the constellation of Aries. This will be a fiery Full Moon deep with flaming, raw emotions. Your sensitivity will be heightened. You may have to move away from loud noise, crowds, and negative people. Try to be around nature tonight, as it will be very healing and nurturing to you. It’s okay to cry a little and wipe the slate clean in your heart now. Aries is a fire element, therefore emotions and feelings are strong now. Be kind and gentle with yourself as you may be feeling ultra sensitive.
This is a time of transformation. Earth is going through a major shift at the moment as it heads into Autumn. We are also going through a major change in our lives as Earth’s energy projects itself on us. We can use this energy of transformation to become what we feel we need to be in order to move on and be happy. Aries will make us feel a little braver and stronger, we may find that we have the courage to do things we were afraid to do in the past. Open yourself up tonight to the magical forces around you. Don’t be limited by the five senses or the ‘how’s’ and ‘when’s.’ Instead, believe in yourself and live from a place of magic and miracles.
The Harvest Moon is a time to reap what we have sown and cultivated this year. Our harvest is the culmination of our efforts to manifest a deeper and fuller life for ourselves. Name what you have harvested over the past year, bless it and yourself for the good work you have done.
This Full Moon let your emotions flow, get rid of past hurts, cry, scream, or shout if you need to, but let it out. Allow yourself to heal. Let the fire of Aries cleanse you. After tonight’s emotional Full Moon when you wake to an Autumn Sun, you will feel like a new person, full of vigor and energy.
Have a blessed Full Moon and may the Goddess watch over you.
Full Written Credit goes to Wicca Teachings.
Photo Credit: Various
Edited by Lisa Marino.
A view of last night’s Blood Moon. This isn’t the best photo I have, or the closest, but it’s nice and clear.
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 