Tripped.

Pursuing a better state of health shouldn't ever be met with push-back from those who claim to care about you.  Making decisions, often hard ones, to better one's health also shouldn't be met with push-back or arguing, or otherwise discouraging talk or behavior.  In my case, there's no tolerance for people who do this.  But it wasn't always this way.  It took a minute, but I did learn.

"Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it."

I haven't forgotten.  Yet, even in the current relationship I'm most often in self-preservation mode, and not by choice.  As an adult I should be allowed to choose what I need to do in order to be healthy, or as healthy as I possibly can be.  So why is it do damned hard for some guys to understand that choices made for my health are not always about THEM?  I'm not sure I'll ever understand this very irritating trait.  But thank God not all guys are like that.

So what do I do when every pursuit, every additional step in the right direction is like someone just stuck out their foot and tripped me on my way to my goal?

Why can't T just freaking let me BE, let me BREATHE, THRIVE?  While this is not the first time someone's done this to me, I am quite intolerant of the selfish BS at this point.  My last relationship also had me scrambling to fight for my health, to breathe, to thrive, and I ended up paying an enormous price for that too.  So much stress, constant, chronic, unrealistic demands made of me, and so much worse, that I ended up in the hospital with a TIA near the end of that relationship.  But that scare became a significant turning point in my life, and I will let NO MAN ever do that to me again.  So then, how do I handle the same selfish BS that T displays?

The "Problem" isn't really a "Problem" at all.  In fact, today... it was ludicrous how the whole argument came about.  The 'problem' (for T) was a recipe for the diet I'm on, a low-carb diet.  Searching the database of recipes was easy, and it was a bit of fun too.  But the recipes I chose brought forth a stream of push-back from T that left me wanting to give up completely.  Now THAT was a familiar feeling.  I cannot go 'there' again.  I cannot let some dude dictate or derail my choices as an adult.  This diet is NOT about HIM.  It's about my life, the long or short of it.  Simple enough.

Why the hell must I fight for my life every single day against someone who could give two shits?  I don't.  And I know this.

But honestly, how stupid is it to argue about a recipe?  Oh, his 'problem' with the recipe is that it calls for a whole chicken.  WTF?  Who cares?  If he doesn't like it he doesn't have to eat it.  This is a guy who is happy with a can of raviolis, and I mean that literally.  Whatever.  I can't eat that way.  But this really isn't so much about the recipe or how I eat, now is it?  Nope.  It's about his need to control.  These things always boil down to that.  Always.

Same with the last relationship.  Control, control, control.  The ONLY person who should be controlling me is ME.  Don't tell me what to do, how to talk, what to think, how to dress.... just don't. I don't care who you are or who you think you are---DON'T.

Spooky.

Resident mockingbird checking out the carport.

Every month there is yet another appointment to see a doctor, be it specialist or primary care, it's every month, usually more than once per month, and sometimes several times a week.  It's par for the course with autoimmune issues, heart issues... and unsolved autoimmune issues.  When labs change and something new shows up that means another visit to someone.  Today I met with a new neurologist who, I must say, was a unique and attentive doctor.  Those medical professionals who listen, pay attention, who not only talks but listens... are rare.  And sometimes, the words that come out of their mouths can be only explained as... spooky.

The words came out of his mouth and left me a little shaken.  No, it wasn't a grave diagnosis but insight of some brand I didn't even know existed.  I don't for a moment believe it were mere coincidence, as I don't believe in coincidences of any kind.  Everything happens for a reason, everything has a purpose, a lesson, always something to remember for future reference.  Our experiences teach.  Simple enough.  Right?  But when my neurologist spoke today nothing at all seemed 'simple' anymore.

"It's overwhelming to be in pain, to feel weakness in the body.  When it goes on for so long it wears a person down.  At some point, if it goes on too long, people reach a breaking point, and they can break down.  Your story isn't finished yet.  Your ANA is very high, significantly high.  I'm not happy that it is high, but it is a significant finding that could point your rheumatologist in the right direction."

Why is this so 'spooky'?  Easy enough.  Though today wasn't the only day I've told T that all his indifference and disrespect has pushed me for the better part of 4 years to the point where I can't take it anymore, but his actions (and INactions) pile on the work for me.  This extra work is and has taken a huge toll on my body, because whatever is wrong is getting much worse, and I'm weaker, in more pain, and it's hard for me to get myself through the mundane tasks that must be dealt with each day.  When I pay the price for his choices, and after this long... my patience has been shattered, my tolerance and nil.  And this morning his choices chose FOR ME what I have to do tomorrow.  The extra work I have to do tomorrow to clean up the mess which was his fault today was more than I could bear this morning.

He drove me to my appointment (long story why that was today) and I was FURIOUS with him for having yet again determined what I have to do with my time.  These days he leaves so many messes for me to clean up, chores to do that he decided not to do.. for WEEKS or MONTHS... that I'm flat out overwhelmed and feeling like something is going to give, and that something... is me.  I told him this yet again today on the way to the appointment.

"I can't take this shit anymore!"

I said the words, but not for the first time.  I've actually told him.. "How the hell does a human being live like this without breaking down?"  I've said, and in no uncertain terms, that if he didn't start pulling his weight, stop acting like a child who has a mommy running along behind him with a dustpan and broom, that if he didn't stop making my life hard as HELL... my body and health were going to continue to break down.

Spooky.  On the heels of a frantic, anxious, stressed-out conversation with T over this very thing my neurologist brings up the subject as if he'd been sitting in the backseat of our car the entire way to his office.

Nothing in our conversation would suggest where I was emotionally with the stresses of my health, chronic pain, chronic fatigue and more weird symptoms than you could ever imagine... on a daily basis.  I think he's intuitive, and I think he gets what happens to a person when too much is put on them when they're not well, when their body is giving way to some unseen and unknown force that is sapping the life out of them.  I think he gets that everyone has a breaking point, which is yet another thing he mentioned when discussing how long, how many years I've had to deal with this.

Spooky.  And not coincidental.

I sat there looking at him, and I honestly didn't know what to say.  I wanted to cry.  I mean, when was the last time ANYONE understood what's going on with me?  But this doctor gets it.  And I sat there fighting the tears and not speaking.  What could I possibly say?  At that moment I couldn't speak even so.

Some days are just like this.  Today someone understood without my having to explain.

Spooky.

Let me catch my breath.

Sharp Shinned Hawk on the hunt.  February 2018.

There are a hundred scenarios when life can go right, and many times more than that where it can go incredibly wrong.  The resulting lowered expectations of chronic disappointment means fighting with those inner voices every single day that tell me "Give up.  It's not going to happen."  A lie disguised as truth tends only to muddy the waters that were once clear with answers.  But we expect, don't we?  We expect honor, loyalty, honesty, and respect.  How such fundamentally necessary components of a good relationship can become so twisted is beyond me.  It doesn't happen by itself.  Malice is ugly, and its only goal is to do harm.  Still, we expect.  "I" expect.  As is the case with humans, is it not?

Expecting the best.  Is this an unremarkable consideration in my current circumstance?  Am I wasting my time even thinking I should be treated with respect, kindness?  Is it truly unreasonable to expect the person I'm with to treat me with the dignity I deserve?  I think not.  But I do believe the most morally lazy of people are those who treat others with blatant disrespect, even cruelty... and without regret.

Give me room to breathe, to think, to ponder, to just be still inside!

As with my last relationship I find myself wasting precious time chasing my tail, constantly putting out fires and reaching the end of the day wondering where my life went.  In the last relationship it was about meeting demands and expectations, most of which were disturbingly unreasonable.  In the current... I'm dealing with someone who walks through life as if he has a servant following behind him.  But then, doesn't he?  The two situations couldn't be more different, yet they parallel in several ways.  So which one is the most damaging?

In the last relationship my narcissist would use stonewalling as a 'punishment' for any perceived infraction on my part, and oddly enough that proved to be a blessing in disguise.  Over time I began to realize how quiet, calm and, yes, peaceful my life was in those quiet times.  Even as anxiety and stress became a part of those 'episodes' and left me spent in certain ways I was also awakened and enlightened at how pleasant life was in that quiet.  If I'd only known sooner I would've saved myself a lot of grief, heartache, and even money.  God but I spent a fortune driving back and forth for him.  smh.

Longing for a peaceful life.

American Goldfinch on our maple tree in Winter.

Every once in a while I get a stunning glimpse of what my life used to look and feel like.  Those moments are unsettling, rather like a dream filled with exciting events and/or people that don't exist in reality.  Constructs of our subconscious, all of them, but beautiful in their own mildly distorted way.  I recognize those visions, feelings, fleeting though they are, and while I wish I could just bask in them at will... I don't dare.  Dreams are one thing, but the memories that flood to the surface on rare occasions rock my world a bit.  I mean, why wouldn't they?  In stark contrast to my everyday life they are like colorized, HD versions of what actually is.  I honestly don't know what to think of them most of the time.

Two seconds, maybe three.  This is what I'm allowed when these memories surface.  But why?  Why is it I can't just recall something on command and remember completely, all the details, sights, sounds, the way something smelled?  Why is it they come, unbidden, unannounced, unexpected?  A few seconds of feeling.... alive... only for it all to be taken away as if it never was.  Why?

Anxiety.  It moved in a few years back and is still an unwanted intruder that's more than worn out its welcome.  I'm not talking the kind of anxiety that brings on panic attacks, but the kind that just gnaws at your life, your soul every moment of every day, stealing joy and happiness, depriving me of sleep and making waking in the morning a most unpleasant affair that even coffee can't cure.

For me, anxiety is a learned response, something that comes from repeated pressures that ride on the back of demands.  Everything begins to feel like a 'have to right now' event, a task that is surely to eat you alive and come with a terrible price if not completed according to the time frame and whim of another.  Those demands, spoken aloud or left to be found, pierce the spirit with joy-stealing accuracy, creating a far-reaching wound that refuses to heal.  And it hurts.  Always.

If you've dealt with true stress, and I don't mean stress of the motivating variety but the life-shortening kind, then you know what damage it can do.  For me, this means daily 3am awakenings with the first and foremost thought in-mind is something laden with panic, with fear.  The previous day's decisions and actions, no matter how good or well-intended, are transformed into regrets that sometimes lead to making decisions that should be left for a much better day, a much better mindset.  But this is not how these things work.

In the 3am dark of the room everything I've ever done has be infinitely wrong somehow.  With no one to talk to, nowhere to turn, and no guidance whatsoever as to how to deal with this and fall asleep again... I feel trapped in my own space, my own bed, in my own head.  And the anxious, panicky feelings, when they come, eclipse that of the last.  Yeah.  They're getting worse.

And yes, I do know why.  That's a blog entry for another day.

So now what?  Honestly, when I began seeing a therapist after my last relationship I learned a great deal of what I was dealing with, what he was and what he wasn't, and I learned a lot about myself too.  Many traits I have I've always known about, and to be honest... they're things I wouldn't change about me.  But I've picked up a few new ones as a matter of 'survival.'  Okay, that's a lot to take in, and dealing with them full-on in a healthy way takes some work.  But I didn't get to finish that discovery and moved before I could.  It's kind of like missing the last chapter of a book you can't put down, and I'm eager to know how it ends.  So, my next step is to find another therapist, because life isn't always perfect, and I cannot continue to live the way I'm living.  Something has to give, and right now that something is me, my health, my happiness.  Oh, but hasn't that always been that which gives way under the worst of circumstances?

I will revisit this soon.

Secrets From A House On A Bluff

Goldfinch waiting his turn at the Nyjer feeder in the front yard on a very chilly, Winter day.

This is really the heart and soul of my blog, to be truthful.  As everyone waits for the next 'secret' from the book of nightmarish relationship-past the world outside is lighting up, glowing with hints of Spring.  The undercurrent is still there, without a doubt, but life continues despite the ugliness of some very human experiences.  Yeah, relationships are often like that.

Compassion.  Very few people understand what it is or how it works.  Kind of sad, isn't it?  Still, just like "Love," compassion isn't something you FEEL, it's something you DO.  You can't fake either of them, no matter how hard you may try.  I've personally never found the point to faking love for whatever the end game may mean.  I mean, fake fruit is pretty when it's done correctly.. but who the hell wants to eat it?

You see, this is exactly why "Pity" is a worthless and unkind offering.  It's fake, and it's not about that which you claim to pity, but more of an expression of what's inside YOU when you 'feel' it.  It has nothing at all to do about the person or thing or situation whatsoever.  I'll leave you to ponder that for a while.

What happens if someone you claim to love is sick, either short-term or long-term?  How long did it take for you to start feeling sorry for yourself because, suddenly, you have more of the 'burden' of the relationship?  When did the seed of resentment break through the surface, and how long did you actively participate in its cultivation before it bloomed?  And what did you think of that rancid thing when it took over your garden of decay?

Where was your compassion then?  Did you recognize the moment it died?

Our resident mockingbird pair has claimed the front yard as either their food territory, or their nesting territory.  Not sure which, but it's a bit of a challenge for the smaller birds.  They seem to work it out on their own.  And the smaller birds do have the backyard feeders.  Let nature taken her own course, then sit back and watch the show...

I've spoken about compassion before, and it's likely a more boring subject for most people online.  Still, it's a big deal to me, because I find those who lack compassion.... frightening.

Case in point:  I can't tell you how many people complain, bitch, whine and worse about how a mockingbird is singing nearby all night long.  Instead of looking up WHY this happens, those people simply look for a way to rid themselves of the bird.  A little knowledge goes a long way, folks, and if you know WHY this happens and still want to 'rid' yourself of the singing bird at night, then you are a void, a complete hollow, a black hole in humanity.  Why?  Because you lack compassion OR the foresight or intelligence to perhaps use some ear plugs.  IF you knew anything at all, you'd know the nighttime singing will stop on it's own.  What stops it?... companionship!

Someone once wrote a beautiful article about why mockingbirds sing at night, and truth be told.. not all of them do!  ONLY the unattached males sing at night, the bachelors.  In fact, he sings his heart out, calling for a mate.. who may either be his first, or perhaps to replace a lost mate, mostly due to predators.

In the article it was a single sentence that made it clear what he's singing about, a phrase that made me smile.  "This song you're hearing is a love song!"

A love song.  Sadly, there are people out there in the world that don't care about anything that's more than 1/2 inch from their own skin, the egocentric, the narcissistic, the borderline personalities, the ones with a dark hollow where their heart should be, the same people whose bloated egos tell them they're just so perfect, but yet they lack the good sense or intelligence to google "Why does a mockingbird sing at night."

My mockingbird who protects the yard (even from snakes) doesn't sing at night, and I've seen him with his mate in the yard, chasing each other about, his showing off how awesome he is for having such a wonderful territory, such amazing and striking white bands on his wings.  The dance is both beautiful and curious, and I love watching them.  I hope to never hear him singing in the darkness, because I know the story it will tell if he does.  But I have heard that sound at night before, back when I lived in my apartment in Mobile.  Memories of a better time.

More later........