Should I....???

It's been a 'musical' day for the most part, as it usually is when I'm having a bad day.  So much pain, what else is there?  Either music, or Spanish lessons.  And... decision-making.  Hmmmm.

So, silencing the music I wonder... of people who've either extracted themselves from my life.. or I booted them.  Either way, there are reasons for everything in life, for choosing to stick with the status quo, or... to create meaningful change and hope for the best.  As all life goes, everything is a risk.  Everything.

It's been my policy that once I'm an 'ex' I'm an ex.  I don't, and have never, seen any reason to stay even loosely inserted in someone's life when you've been rejected, or... when you've rejected them.  Sure, some people can become BFFs with their ex's.. that's fine for them.  But for me, the past is the past.  Not that there's been any exceptions to this rule--there have been.  There's been exactly 2 exceptions, and for good reason.  However, one person was a friend who, no matter how how I tried to forgive repeatedly, decided that his immersion into the 'occupy' movement... simply made him just this side of intolerable.  That's another story for another day---or perhaps not at all.

A discussion with a  friend of mine recently gave me a lot to think about.  Her life is vastly different from mine, which poses difficulty for her when it comes to giving me advice.  She doesn't get where I'm coming from at all most of the time, and that's okay.  We also don't share a deep friendship, and in  fact.. it's fairly superficial for the most part.  Only once a month, roughly, do we actually talk to one another, and we don't hang out ever.  That's okay too.

So, what she presented to me was basically this:  Why cut anyone out of your life?  On the surface it's a good question, but it lacks something vital.  The most important reason for cutting someone completely out of your life is that the relationship proved to be harmful in some way.  So with just that reason in mind... it just makes no sense to present the question in that way.  However, I added a little more to it, such as 'How much forgiveness is available given the circumstances and does that forgiveness translate into a 2nd, or even 3rd chance?'  Basically, maybe there's some merit to looking at each circumstance individually.  Maybe.

In the case of my 'occupy' friend I honestly don't know what to think.  We were the best of friends for over 12 years.  He lives in CA and even at that distance it never hindered our friendship a bit.  We watched movies together, which was often hilarious as we attempted to sync the DVD's and not react too quickly if we were slightly ahead of the other.  We shared EVERYTHING.  We expressed joy, anger, sadness, etc., and could talk for hours on the phone every day.  We helped each other when times were tough, and there wasn't a minute in a 24 hour period that was off-limits.  A 2am phone call or 4am phone call was always answered.  Not that we took advantage of that, but.. it was always a given that, should we need each other, that we could reach out and have someone right there on the other end of the line.

He lost his job of almost 20 years due to layoffs, and that's when everything went terribly wrong.  I suppose as he struggled to find his footing again (in Los Angeles) he found, instead, a group of people who became like family to him.  His mother & father is deceased, and his sister is, well... she's not the warmest of people and left him, literally, to drown in his own circumstances.  I wasn't able to help him financially, and he wasn't inclined to leave CA at that time... so his situation became even worse.  During this time he met with those involved in the occupy moment, and that... is where he lost himself.

Phone calls that used to be about life, living, music, humor, movies, songs he was writing (he's a musician), animals, etc... became all about occupy this or that.  Then... he got involved in the B L M moment, and the smart part of him that wasn't devoured by occupy was completely consumed by B L M... and he became a self-loathing 'white.'  Neither of us are racist, and so I'm not sure why he became lost, so completely and totally lost to a group that for every practical purpose devoured his soul and personality.

For about 4-5 years now I've spoken to him very little with the last phone call being last summer when I bought him a Vegan cookbook.  I never even heard a word back from him other than when I send him a message asking if he received it and he replied with... "Thanks."

His name on social networking sites has the word 'occupy' in it, and I guess it really represents what he's become.

I don't call him anymore, and now that it's election time... and he's a flaming liberal while I'm a conservative (converted after making the huge mistake of voting for Obama the first time)... we have even more animosity.  He was the one, in fact, that talked me into voting for Obama, and already having a deep dislike for a chronically triggered McCain... it was inevitable that I'd give in.  There was also the health care thing, something I desperately needed, but... that's not the only reason I regret that vote.  I was an independent, and now I'm not, so I'm 'gifted' with his presence on my FB on occasion as he bashes Trump, whom I'm supporting and have since the start.

"There are three things I never discuss with people; religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin." -Linus

So is, was, my usual stance.  But my friend vomited horrible remarks on my FB page on a post in which I finally had to tell him the truth, the blunt truth that he's not the person I once knew and loved as a friend... but that if he resorted to spewing hate on my TL again.. I would block him. Period.  It's taken years to get to this point.

My friend with the advice... I made a decision to re-think my stance.  But as I told her... there are limits to what I'll endure.  Case by case basis seems reasonable.  I easily forgive, but I'm not one who easily forgets.

The days of my being a doormat for criticism, judgment and cruelty to enter my life is over.

"You've chosen lessons of pain."

I received a message with this video in it yesterday.  I have no idea who the person is who sent it... but, oddly.. this is one of my favorite songs and one I listen to every night.  Headphones on, dark room, and songs to obliterate the thoughts....

Self-Preservation.

Why is it that, of late, I'm finding myself avoiding posting in my blogs?  I mean, yes.. I do sometimes go on at length, I know.  But for the most part I seem to wait till that part of the day when I least feel like talking, sharing, or even thinking.  And it's in THAT moment that I suddenly decide to post something.  It's just the oddest freaking thing, I have to say.

I wait till everything hurts.  I wait till I can no longer sit here like this, till I'm SO uncomfortable and in pain that I can't think straight.  Maybe, just maybe I'm avoiding actually talking.  Right?  Makes sense to me.  I'm an hour past tylenol and am still in avoidable, unmoving, unrelenting pain.  Yay.  NOT.

Sleep didn't come easily to me last night and when waking up under that onslaught I feel worse than ever.  I have an idea of what's causing the insomnia for the most part, and it's something I can avoid.  But then, sometimes the pain overrides all.  What else am I do to when nothing else works?  Side effects.  Joyful.

Still, I seek hope, motivation, and a passion for life that I know, that I MUST believe beyond everything, still exists somewhere within.  If I ever allowed myself to believe anything else I'd be in big, big trouble.  Granted, this wanting to believe isn't the same as actually believing.  I know this.  I get this.  I feel and know just how fragile this is and how susceptible it is to influence from outside.  That's the biggest problem here in finding my way---knowing that I'm up against the tidal wave of indifference radiating from T.  People who allow, or even choose to flip their internal switch to 'autopilot' are ignoring the consequences of their actions.  Why?  Well, my take on it is that it's just easier that way.  Relationships are work, but they're worth it if both parties carry their fare share of the responsibility.

Self-preservation has taken a firm hold on my life and me as a person.  I've been here before and recognize what it is I'm dealing with and know where this will ultimately lead.  My health being in a shambles right now is keeping me locked in place and shackled to a life that isn't mine, not even close to mine.  I don't recognize anything, and that.. is a very, very bad sign.  Still, I'm here... riding out the storm seeing no pause, no respite, no calm waters ahead.

Swim or drown?

That, really, is the ultimate question and one I have absolutely no answer to.  Not yet.

On to post in my other blogs.... I'll work my way through this today if it kills me....

Anger? Surprise? Inspiration at its worst? WTH?

Sometimes I get a spark of something that inspires me.  Such inspiration doesn't always present itself in the best way, though, but I usually try to go with it when it happens.  Such gems shouldn't be taken for granted but taken advantage of.  It really is that rare.

In the midst of fighting for every drop of energy that can be found wherever it is I can find it, a tiny burst will make its way into the day and nudge me.  Okay, I can certainly deal with that.  Wish there were MORE of it, but I'll take what I can get and go with it nonetheless.

The fuel for this little 'fire' isn't from a good source, definitely not a positive force, and most definitely not from a pleasant source.  Be that as it may, there it is... kind of like when your dog has an accident and you're left looking at it wondering to yourself what you did to deserve such a... 'gift'? lol  Okay, okay... enough with lame attempts at comedy.  Even so, the conversation with a friend of mine earlier today was what ignited this whatever-it-is and sent me on a journey to try and put my thoughts in order.  I found the results of that rather.. lacking.

All this blabbering, to be honest, is just my working through it all.  Not the conversation, because that was interesting and creatively invigorating.  But the chaos I'm dealing within the thought process at the moment is simply trying to pull together the shards of data that's left from past experience.  Anyone who understands this knows where I'm coming from.  G knows.  She gets it.  And, from what I read on her blog(s)... she's been able to run with it without tripping like a clown every step of the way that I've been.  Eh.  I'm still confident that this purging will eliminate the chaff and reveal the good stuff.  I'll be back to discuss that when it happens.

MIA

The last several days have been fraught with a fatigue and weakness unlike anything I've ever known.  Basically, for the last several days I've been pretty much bedridden, only able to sit up for a VERY short period of time.  Painful, tired, and weak, I spent what little time I was awake researching if there was a medication I was taking that could be doing this.  What I found was across the board complaints about every drug I'm on.  Narrowing things down to a time frame when I began getting worse I found that cessation of Prednisone and AZA kicking in were likely the culprits.  Here is where things get tricky...

Prednisone and immunosuppressants are the go-to protocols for nearly all autoimmune diseases.  At the highest dosage of 40mg/day I felt amazingly well, energetic, and somewhat strong again.  It was about as close to 'normal' I've felt in years.  With the first taper I began to feel badly again, but eventually had to come off with a slower taper which ended about a week ago.  AZA (Imuran) was added along the way and is something one is kept on long-term to stave off flares of the disease, in my case autoimmune hepatitis -- don't confuse this with visual hepatitis (hep C for example).  This is an autoimmune situation in which my immune system thinks my liver is a foreign body that needs, well, killed off.  Overlapping AI disease is also suspected here, but symptoms cross over and overlap to the point where it's difficult to tell what else is going on.  Myositis or Sarcoidosis are suspects here given my aldolase was highly elevated more than once, even on the medications.  It is within normal range since taking the imuran in higher doses.

FAST FORWARD...

I don't know which is causing this horrid weakness and fatigue, and other symptoms as well, so I opted to call the doctor to TELL him I'm stopping the AZA for a time to see if that's the culprit.  His response was agreement, BUT he wanted me to restart the Prednisone at 60mg per day!  I told the nurse on the phone, who relayed the message to me, that I wasn't going back on prednisone because the side effects were intolerable and it causes so much weight gain, which I've just now begun to lose.  I'm not going back.  She said she would relay the message to the Dr.  I have an appt with him next week and know I'm going to have to give push-back because I'm UNWILLING to take prednisone again.

I've just stopped the AZA yesterday and am not doing well as I'm still weak, fatigued, and wanting to sleep most of the day.  I have a feeling some of this will improve as the AZA leaves my body.

I know the risks.  I know and accept that I could have a big flare of AIH and my liver could be damaged because of it.  But here's the thing: I have to wage longevity with quality of life, and in doing so have come to the conclusion that I simply can't have both.  I'm choosing quality over quantity.

And hey, for all I know it could take a couple of years before I have a flare again.  But as for any other AI disease going on, be it Myositis or Sarcoidosis, no one has given another diagnosis as of yet so there's little reason for me to worry about those possibilities.  Having been on the treatment protocol for those, because it's the same as AIH, it's going to be tough trying to diagnose either due to my taking prednisone and AZA for this long.  Even so, all I can do is see how it goes moving forward.

I'm actually quite surprised that I can event type, because the last several days I've barely been able to hold up my iPhone while laying in bed due to the weakness.  You've no idea how bad the weakness is.

Another thing I have to deal with, which I'm not sure is a bad thing, is the loss of appetite.  I mean, I've gone back to FEELING that I need to eat, where my body gives physical signals that I may need nutrition but don't have actual HUNGER.  Also, this is the third day where it's not just a lack of hunger but also very early satiety.  I've been taking in less than 1,000 calories a day, which I will pay for dearly if I'm not careful, especially if I'm dealing with Myositis.  But that's another talk show.

So for now just know I have to play it by ear and see how I feel, because I may not be able to post here every day---though I do hope I can because that means I'm either feeling better or one tough chick for posting when I feel like I'm going to fall off the chair any moment. ;p  C'mon.. that was funny.  See?  My sense of humor shows up every now and then.

How am I managing through all of this?.... well, I have to admit that's a whole other talk show....

This Journey

It's incredibly hard to type these days--to do anything really.  I'm completely off the prednisone as of yesterday, so now I wait to see what comes when my adrenals have to go it alone without the assistance of that drug.  We'll see.

I sleep so much these days.  I toss and turn at night because of the pain in my body, sleeping sporadically and not deeply.  Tylenol has become my best friend again, though I know I have to adhere strictly to not going over the dosage etc.  But it's a necessary evil.  Early morning, when I'm able to take another dose, I wait for the pain to subside enough to allow me to fall back asleep and, hopefully, catch up on what sleep I did miss.  Still, in the morning when I rise... the weakness, the aching is there--always there.

Getting out of bed, getting dressed, finding my way to the kitchen, dining room... is not the easiest tasks these days and is worse as the prednisone comes out of my system.  My legs, arms, hands, they all shake until I have enough food or coffee in my system.  This is, I believe, another symptom of tapering from prednisone, as it greatly affects blood sugar; high when on it, drops when off.  It's just one more monster I have to defeat.

The prednisone weight is another issue but one that is, honestly, not nearly as important and FEELING better.  I'll be able to take the weight off when my adrenals aren't fatigued anymore, and I'm good with that. I have to be good with that.  But this horrible weakness and fatigue--it's so hard to handle, so hard to live with.  Hell, I'm really not living at all but simply--surviving.

I sleep so much.

I'm sleepy now.  I wanted to go right back to bed but got up too late to make that even remotely possible.  Plus, if I give in to sleeping all day long... I won't have an easy time coming out of that.  Prednisone cessation, after having been on high doses and on a long time, can also bring on depression.  Maybe this is what that is, all this sleeping.  Can't take anything for it even so because of the Eliquis.  Will have to just ride this out and pray it ends soon--very soon.

I want to live again.  Be happy again.  Thrive again.  I want my passion for life back so badly.

I'm so sleepy, so tired.

I can hear it in my dreams.

What was.  What should be.  What was lost.  What is.  An unsettling representation of what I'd rather not think about, a rejected idea of what life is supposed to be.

I sometimes see images online, hear stories from people, stories that pique my curiosity in that I see and hear I can't connect with in any real way.  "So this is life?" is the outcome, the question that remains unanswered but accepted just the same.  My reality, my life doesn't in any way reflect what I see out there in the world.  This kind of thinking only leads to a pointless series of "What if?" scenarios that didn't, nor will ever, ever happen in what remains of my lifetime.  Such a useless response, isn't it?  I definitely think so.

I've gotten to where I really hate dreaming.  I hate waking up from them even more, to be honest.  Again, I find them completely useless.

Damn.  When will the clouds lift?

The Handshake.

A relationship is like a handshake.  One person extends their hand and the other extends theirs in acceptance.  This is the best case scenario, however, and relationships leave one person waving their hand in the air and feeling foolish.  At some point that dance just doesn't work anymore and we have to decide wether it's all worth it or not.  But how do we know WHEN it's time to place our hand back in our pocket and walk away?

There's no difference in friendships and we've all seen those fail miserably due to one-sided participation.  It's not usually an instant fail, btw, and we come to the conclusion to walk away after a lot of energy is spent trying to be the one acquiescing, initiating, or taking the blame for the short-comings within the relationship machine.

So if we know how it works in friendships, why do we take so damn long with romantic relationships?  I think part of it is that there's a much larger prize at stake when it comes to that kind of connection that leaves you ultimately vulnerable and exposed.  That other person, unlike a friend (usually) has seen you literally at your worst, your best, naked, knows most if not all of your secrets, and the love and affection that ties it all together is not that easy to break.  In most cases.  Either way, there's just a lot at stake when talking romantic relationships vs friendships.

Friendships do last longer.  And if you think about it, it's most likely because you're not living with that person or trying to divvy up responsibilities, not relying on that person when it comes to the hard times.  I mean, yes, there is some of that, but again.... you just can't compare the two.  There is an exception, however, to this rule, and that is that we actually can apply what we are willing to put up with when it comes to carrying the load of that relationship.

I don't care about the numbers, myself.  Wether you call it 50/50 or 100/100 it still requires both sides to assess what's what and decide a compromise when one side is no longer able to carry the larger portion of the load.

My point here is this: At some point we have to acknowledge when something is harming us, wether it's physical or emotional harm, be it stress or overt abuse, we absolutely HAVE to make a decision at some point while we still have enough of ourselves left, before any real long-term damage is done.

Every day I'm reminded of how much I have to carry, what I'm left to be responsible for, and just how little energy and strength I have to take that on.  Physically I grow weaker each day.  My specialist has upped the Azathioprine about as high as I can take it, and I'm waiting to see if/when this begins to pivot the illness and begin to heal what's wrong.  In the meantime I'm extremely weak, often sick (nausea, etc.), and I have to lay down in bed several times a day now.  This means little gets done because I'm not able to do it myself.  Simple things, really.  Chores that I could handle easily back when I was healthy, living alone and with many more time-consuming responsibilities.  The difference between he and I is that I did what needed to be done and was glad to do it.  I can't live in a dirty or nasty environment so fight my way through the day trying to do what little I can.

I'm so so so done with this.

And since the communication is one-sided (out of his laziness. No joke there.) I'm beyond exhausted. I'm back to my focus being on ONE thing and ONE thing only--getting well.  I will be well enough to take my life back when the time comes and he's going to find himself in the dust when it happens.  It's his own doing, and he's not going to be happy about it when it happens, I promise.  He's been warned of this, and he's coasting along like he can't see it happening already.  But it is, happening already....

The Similarities of Day to Day Life.

Or shall we call it "A life of perpetual sameness"?  Either way, I'm going to make damn sure I change this.  I have to.

I've posted enough here for you guys to know where I am at the moment.  Dealing with communication and respect issues from T, issues that make themselves known every day and every night without fail.  You also know by now that my tolerance for this is extremely thin, verging on non-existent.  Notwithstanding innocent goof and human blunders, somewhere in the chaos one has to actually SEE the damage being done.  "I" see the damage because I'm a recipient of most of it, but T sits quietly on the river "Denial" and refuses to move.  Ok.  Whatever.

He doesn't like my bluntness and doesn't want me to say aloud the truth that threatens not only to completely destroy this relationship, but the truth that's destroying my peace of mind, health, and happiness.  He's in blissful ignorance, so I don't have any choice other than to say exactly what's on my mind.

When I'm trying to open a discussion, when I need to point out behaviors in someone that TRULY need addressing, I use non-combative phrases.  I speak of how I feel, what the harmful behavior is, but I don't point fingers, name-call, label, etc., because that approach causes damage as well.  I know how to communicate, as long as people allow me to communicate.

Repeatedly disrespecting me is a huge deal and would be for pretty much anyone.  Not allowing anyone to disrespect me was a lesson only recently learned, so I'm still a little awkward with it and finding my balance and strength when approaching the subject.  I'm getting there.  Now, in the process I've become fairly blunt when I've taken all I can, and all PC is out the window.  I speak my mind now while doing my best to preserve the other person's (in this case T) self-esteem.  I've no interest in becoming what I most despise so won't allow myself to go there.

T believes that when I point out what he does that hurts, offends, and disrespects me.. that it's a form of disrespect and that I shouldn't say anything at all.  But I assure you, that approach NEVER works and is, in fact, quite harmful to relationships and the individuals.  If I shove down my feelings, ignore the disrespect, and take the punches in silence... I will eventually resent that person, and that person right now is T.  No matter how I try to explain this--he doesn't get it and shows no indication of trying to understand or stop the disrespectful behavior.

Again, as I've said many times before, I'm not trying to make T out as a bad guy or to demonize him. He's NOT a bad guy--he's just blind to the things he does and doesn't do that greatly and adversely affect me in so many ways.  I hang in there for the obvious reasons, and I do so because I hold hope very close, hope that he'll see what he's doing so it can be stopped.

I may be a bit foolish for relying on hope this way given my past experiences and hope-filled failures.  But there's no reason NOT to hope.  In fact, hope is the great buffer of all things, isn't it?  Life tends to slip apart when hope is lost.

Damage control: There's been a lot of this with most being unsuccessful.  And I'm no stranger to damage control given past relationships that left me holding the weight of fixing everything.  One person CANNOT fix a relationship, nor can one person break it.  If a relationship is going bad, guaranteed there are TWO people at fault, even if it's the behavior of one and the acceptance of that behavior by the other.  It takes two people to break a relationship and two to repair it; an absolute truth.

Sometimes there are victims, yes, but 'most' victims are willing.  Meaning, when you have a way out of a bad situation and don't get on board with preparing things, and if you stay and suffer the damaging consequences.. then you've willingly participated in that damage.

As for me, I was a willing victim.  I played the martyr in love more times than I like to admit.  My role in a past relationship which did a LOT of damage to my self-esteem, body, etc. I take full responsibility for.  I remained in a bad situation, and though I believed that he and I could fix things I refused to see and acknowledge (for far too long) that the weight of that burden was planted fully on me.  I should've left at the first sign of serious problems.

I should have bailed when the relationship began changing the way I saw myself, how I thought of myself, when it began to depress me and fill my entire world with anxiety.  I should have been my own best friend and stood up for ME.  Instead, I did everything I possibly could to change into the distorted version he wished me to become.  It doesn't take a genius to understand that my acceptance of abuses, be they emotional or physical, would nearly destroy me as a person; I get it NOW, but I didn't get it THEN, not until it was too late and the damage was done.

I had to forgive myself more than the other person, because it was ME who let myself down.  I didn't have my own back, and I allowed everything till nearly the end.  It wasn't until I had a TIA and ended up in the hospital (very shortly after the last blow up) did I realize to what degree I'd been beaten up inside and how it had shattered me.

In the hospital the doctors asked about my level of stress, had I been dealing with major life changes such as a death in the family, financial hardship, and/or a breakup.  That was the first time the lightbulb went on and I began to introspect as I lay in that hospital bed with nothing but the hum of the heater to interfere with what came to me.  The realization was harsh, brazen, and shattering in its truth.  I had to get out of the relationship; I had to let go; and I had to do it to save my life.

This wasn't a comfortable awareness when it came blazing out of the deep recesses in which unpleasant things go to smolder.  But there was nothing I could do, really, but allow it into the light and face what it was, what I'd always known but refused to acknowledge.

So the burning question for most people at this point, after hearing/reading about my experience, the question everyone I knew at the time had is: Why the hell did I stay so long?  I stayed because I was in love with him.  Isn't that why any of us stay in bad or toxic relationships, because of our feelings and our sometimes misguided hopes that he/she will change?

I wouldn't find out until much later, until it was far too late and the damage was taking over my life and destroying happiness, that the person I fell in love with didn't really exist.  If you've read my blogs for a while you've heard me say this, and that's because the realization that I fell in love with a lie is profound and one I struggle with today for obvious reasons: You can't say goodbye to someone who doesn't exist.

The mask slipped and I discovered the truth beneath.

To this day everything about me struggles to reconcile who I thought I loved with who I was actually dealing with.

I believe that this problem of irreconcilable truths, for me, is fanning the flames of what's happening in the current relationship.  While I knew this was a possibility there wasn't any reasonable way to prepare for the experience itself.  On one hand being protective is necessary, but on the other hand.. always being poised in defense isn't a good idea either.

This emotional struggle could end with closure; something I will never have.  I can't say goodbye to someone who never existed, now can I?

Yeah... and therein lies the biggest problem of all.  This fight, this struggle permeates day to day life.  T's disrespect, whether purposeful or accidental permeates day to day life.  Health problems worsen and take over day to day life.  There seems to be no end to this....

Cold.

I'm in freezing mode--just one side of the coin of prednisone.  Withdrawal is kicking my ass and giving me issues (duh), so I don't have but a moment to post here.  Just checking in, more than anything.

Physically, I feel like crap.  Emotionally, I feel like crap.  My whole reason for getting out of bed each day is simply to take care of my dog and ferret, and.. well, pretty much to try and push-back against this depression that's trying its damnedest to win.

Really not doing well today.

Not at all.

I'm going to try and post again later...

Perseverance is Determination on Crack.

On occasion I'm reminded of just how little my mind is okay with what's happening in my life.  Sometimes it reminds me that those things I can't do at the moment are weighing heavily, and so heavily that I'm struggling to maintain on a daily basis.  While I understand that this won't be forever, my being so damn limited, it's still wreaking havoc in my waking hours, as well as in my sleep.  How to get past this and find peace is going to be a process, and one that will require much patience on my part.  And oh, but I don't have much patience these days.

I'm not willing at the moment to go into details, and mostly because I just don't have the energy for explaining everything.  All I know is that my physical limitations right now are driving me crazy, anchoring me to this house, and preventing me from ACTUAL living.  I can't engage in anything these days and have become mostly a non-participant in my own life.  How the hell is that going to work as I wait out the too-slow process of 'normalizing' my health?

Perseverance is determination on crack.

I fuel the fire with caffein in the morning, then take to my bed when my body can no longer handle sitting upright for any reason.  My days are measured and sliced by how many times I have to lay down in order to get back up.  Yeah, you heard that right.  If I do even one small task that requires the most minimal of effort I'm wiped, totally wiped of energy, stamina, and I'm laid out for a few minutes---to hours.  I never know what I'll end up with, energy-wise, strength-wise until I'm done doing whatever it is I need to do.  Oh, and those tasks that drain me... they often consist of just walking from one room to another.

Now, I will say that I believe a lot of this is because I'm coming off prednisone and at a relatively fast rate.  The damage of being ON the stuff has concerned my liver specialist, so he wants me off asap.  This happens with consequences.  The immunosuppressant I'm on... Aza (aka Imuran/Azathioprine).. is on board enough now where it should be helping me come off the prednisone with few side effects.  Problem is, I'm sensitive to medications, always have been, and I tend to get most of the side effects.  yay me. NOT.  It is what it is.  Either way, I'm trying my best to persevere and not give up, despite the side effects and discomfort and depression.

I'm trying....

Shhhhhh.

It's quiet.  I like the quiet and often prefer it to even music at times.  Listening for guidance, watching for signs of life in an otherwise empty space, not knowing whether to trust my instincts and give in, fight--these are every day experiences for me; sometimes by choice; sometimes by chance; but always for a reason.

I'm heading to my oasis in a moment, a room I use as my 'Girl cave,' a place that is inherently me in all it contains, inspires, and presents.  My own place where I can retreat, nap, contemplate, and create if I had the energy.  It's a good place.  A very very good place.  I feel at home in there, more at peace. It could just be the decor, all the familiar items from my former life of 2 years ago, the soothing familiarity invoking that feeling of "Ah."  It's really my space and I am very protective of that space, I promise you.

So I took that Lasix for the first time a little while ago and am waiting for it to kick in.  This means I'm retreating to my room where I can be near a bathroom... yeah, it's a very powerful diuretic, prescription, and boy is it going to keep me busy this afternoon.  It's okay.. because it's needed to combat the prednisone water retention, which is making my BP shoot up in the are of 194/82.  NOT a good BP reading.

Time to head into the other room...

Okay, bladder... let's do this!

Yikes!

Family--Beating My Head Against the Wall

To say I come from a dysfunctional family is putting it mildly.  Further back than my own memory reaches my siblings have hated me.  No, really, I'm not making this up or being dramatic.  I don't talk about this much because it brings a lot of sadness and discomfort, anger and resentment rushing to the surface.  It's a long story, really, and one with gaps and holes and far-reaching voids where many memories have vanished.  It would be oh so much easier had I been adopted, because I know virtually nothing about my family tree, for all the asking I've done over the years, and my parents are both deceased with my having absolutely NO idea where I came from, who my ancestors are, or what my connection is to any of them, if at all.

I was a "Mistake," according to my mother.  Now, my relationship and experience with my mom is a story in and of itself, and honestly... I could write a novel here about that.  But I'm not going to.  Let's just say my mom was disconnected by the time I was born, old enough to be my grandmother, and about as unplugged as a parent could get.  It was easier to micromanage and control everything to a damaging degree, rather than create experiences that may have given me a chance and coming out on the other side with less 'issues.'  Yes, of course I have issues, and in a way it was my mom's only legacy.

How is it that I could know little of nothing, if anything, about anyone in my family tree?  Well, that's easy--when you don't answer questions, share nothing, and ensure that not a single photo, letter, information, etc. gets passed down to you... well, you can't ask a dead person questions.  Point blank, not pretty, but absolute truth just the same.

Everything from health/medical information was shared primarily with ONE of the 6 children, and I wasn't the one who got the information.  My eldest sister was my mother's confidant, her go-to gal, and there was an almost too-close relationship between my mom and my oldest sister (old enough to be my mom).  I spent my entire life on the outside, looking in, and it was that way until my mom passed away (over 20 years ago now).

One sister and I shared a dad, and my other siblings share a father form my mom's 1st and only marriage.  Yep, my other sister and I were illegitimate.  I could really care less about that, to tell you the truth.  My dad was out of the picture when I was 18 months old, and my mother really never spoke of him or his family except for some really scary things, very dark and scary things.  Now, it shouldn't surprise anyone that if you scare a kid like that, they're most likely not ever going to ask too many questions.  This was the case with me.

The siblings who had a different dad hate me.  Just the truth.  I was even told that one reason they despised me was that, because we were very poor, they often didn't get as much milk (the example used by one brother and sister) because when it came down to the wire... "The baby" (me) needed it more than they did.  I can't speak for what happened when I was a baby.  I can't apologize for something that I didn't do on purpose.  Yet that resentment carried right into adulthood for my 3 brothers and one sister.  BTW, I don't really think of them as brothers and sisters because they've not treated me as such throughout my life.  What memories I have of life with them.. isn't good.

I was born very late, with my mom being in her early 40's when she had me.  All my siblings (but for one) was grown and gone and with kids of their own, so I pretty much grew up like an only child from about age 10.. when one of my sisters married and moved out (she was 16).  We lived in a 3 bedroom house that was eventually condemned, and my mother (a hoarder) used all 3 bedrooms as her hoarding rooms.  My sister, the one I share a dad with, had her own room, lots of 'stuff,' decorated walls, record player, records, clothes, and a bike.  I didn't have enough toys to even have a toy box, so even in this respect I would find myself living an entirely different life than my sister... and everyone else, actually.

My mom was absent, indifferent, cold most of the time...and even cruel.  Skipping over more details than will fit here, I will say that my childhood was very, very odd, and the damage done has proven to be long-lasting.  Still, I spent my life longing for a family, a REAL family.  Now, coming from a family with 3 brothers and 2 sisters you would think that a strange thing for me to say.  Aunts, uncles, cousins... really had nothing to do with me, but for one cousin who, I guess, simply took pity on me.  I felt the hostility from them all growing up and didn't understand any of it at all.  I felt it, saw it, heard it, and experienced that hostility until we moved away from California.  We moved to Colorado because my oldest brother wanted my mom to move there so she could babysit while he and my SIL could work.  I was in 8th grade when we moved, and my life didn't get better at all.

Longing for a real family... even to this day....

I would eventually move away from the state of Colorado.  My kids and I, to make a long story short as possible, ended up here in the south along the Gulf Coast, where we settled into that strange place (strange to us because we weren't from there) and would end up calling the south "Home."  It's the only place that ever felt like home to me.  I'm still in the south, but a little further north by a few short hours.  But back to "Family"....

When my mom passed, naturally my eldest sister got everything.  Very important items my mom was holding for me until I could send for them were divided amongst my brothers and sisters and nephews... or just tossed out as garbage.  They did this QUICKLY after my mother died, the day they found out, using the excuse that they were sure that since she was on disability, got a veteran's widow pension, and on Medicare, etc... that the 'government' was going to come in and take her stuff.  Yes, LUDICROUS, but that's the excuse they used.  And when I arrived for her funeral I wasn't even allowed to so much as have a photo of hers.  My eldest sister 'allowed' me to take ONE photo to have it photocopied.  My mom had boxes and boxes of photos, btw.

Few actually had anything to say to me at the funeral, or after.  It was the same shit, different day.. only worse.  A few years later I'd tried once again to make some kind of connection with them, but it ended in a total disaster.  I finally came to my senses and realized that I was the only one putting in any effort and that it just simply wasn't worth it.  I basically told my oldest brother and his bitchy wife to piss off.  And yes, it felt great and was LONG overdue.

In the present....

I know pretty much nothing of my family history, my family tree.  My last living grandparent died when I was 2 weeks old, and everyone else was so much older than me that no one really had anything to do with me.  My mom wasn't really forthcoming with names, histories, etc., though she did incorporate some names and such in a few fun stories she would tell from time to time.  But as a little child I really had no idea if she were making the stuff up/telling fairytales, or if the information was actually true.  And after my mom's death... the information about grandparents and such were simply not given to me, even if I asked.  Photos, etc.... all given to my sister, who claimed some neighbor stole them, were lost.  My brothers, etc. chose badly when they decided to give my sister everything.  One person said they thought my sister pawned or sold the framed antique photos of grandparents etc for money.  Sadly, it sounds exactly like something she would do.

The cruelty extends into adulthood....

When one of my brothers passed away a few years ago I was told about this AFTER the funeral had taken place, and... I was told on Facebook by a distant cousin.  She apparently looked for me on Facebook with ONE purpose in mind, and that was to send me a message that read.. "B**** passed away last week.  Thought you'd like to know."  I asked "How/why?" which lead to her replaying in the same short, blunt fashion. She then disappeared and didn't say a word ever again.  I'd written back a couple of times.. with no response.  I'd written my nephew as well, and have been ignored.  And this nephew I grew up with and was very close to most of our lives.  He's only 2 1/2 years younger than I am.

Cruelty was their favorite weapon, and continues to be so.


The family tree...

As someone who feels completely disconnected from 'family' or blood ties, history... it only stands to reason that I would, eventually, WANT to know something about my own family history.  SOMETHING.  ANYTHING.  So when I decided to look into www.ancestry.com I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction.  Maybe this site could help me put the broken pieces together in such a way that I would at least see my connection within the bloodline.

What I've done...

I created an account at www.ancestry.com over a year ago, but since I wasn't really willing to invest any money into getting a full account, I've only spent the smallest bit of time there.  But that changed for me about a week ago when I saw a commercial online for Ancestry and a DNA test they offered that shows where your bloodline is from, at least in percentages.  A lot of folks have jumped on board for this.  Now, one cool thing about the DNA test and having a real account (which I don't yet) is that you can set your family tree to allow links between matches for DNA, region, etc.  It's a lot more complicated than that, and they have a video that explains it all, but it's a really neat tool and a good place to start.  But what about for someone like me?....

DNA results may be the only thing I really get out of this, and that's okay.  It's something, isn't it?  It would be nice to know for sure what ethnicities are involved in my family tree, even if I don't have any family history to see how the pieces fit.  I sent my kit off today and, from what I understand, it will take about a week for the results to get uploaded online.  Knowing it's not going to give me complete picture of my family tree... I'm still okay, and I'm fairly patient where that's concerned.

So what's my freaking point here?

My point is this: If you have information about family history (names, places, etc) please share them with your kids.  Don't leave them in the dark to spend the rest of their lives wondering who they really are (history wise), where they're from, what their history is, etc.  It's really not a good or easy thing to live with when you have no idea about those things.  Don't do that to your kids, seriously.

My desire to know more about my family history/ancestry runs deeper than the hurt from the disconnection from my actual 'family members.'  I rarely use the word 'family' when speaking about them.  They're blood relatives to me, but nothing more.

I have to wonder if I'm beating my head against the wall trying to piece together a family tree I know nothing about.  Names, birth dates, etc. are required to even do searches or make connections.  What little information I have really just stops at my mom, and my dad I have only a name and birth date.  It's really like hitting a brick wall.  But is it worth it, all of this effort?  I don't know.

I really just don't know.  The one thing I DO know is that I'm left with the question: Will I ever fully understand myself in connection to history and ancestry?

*shrugs*

Random Thoughts at 3am

I had to make that meme above.  I suppose it's just that one goofy part of me (sense of humor) that refuses to buckle under the health issues.  Yeah, I'm just ninja like that.

ANYHOO....Insomnia is a fickle bedfellow these days.  Incredibly unpredictable, I never quite know what it is I'm facing when I get into bed each night.  There's something triggering me to wake up when I go to bed, but I've yet to pinpoint exactly what that is.  Even nodding off on the sofa prior to going to bed doesn't guarantee I'll sleep once I get there, and in fact... it's almost a given now that I'm going to be waiting up, tossing and turning, until the wee hours of the night.  And what does this do besides keep me tired and exhausted?  For one, I get strange dreams, ones I really could've done without.  No, not nightmares... just dreams.  But still...

So it's 2am, 3am.. and stupid, random thoughts pop into my brain, which triggers more thinking, thinking, thinking... blah blah blah.  Damn.  Seriously.  WTH?  Most of it isn't even worth thinking about, I promise.

Okay, so falling back asleep this morning in hopes of getting about 5 hours I had a dream, and one that puzzles the crap out of me.  Well, I suppose most dreams don't make sense, right?  They're usually random babbling and broken intel of things we are either not dealing with, dealing with poorly, or unaware that we need to deal, you know, with those things.  But what about those dreams that aren't as chaotic and confusing?  What about the dreams that leave us thinking.. "Wow. That was so REAL!"  What about THOSE dreams?  You know the kind I'm talking about.

If your dream makes sense, what's the message?  That's the big question, isn't it?

I'm not sure what to make of my dream.  The content, which I'm not wanting to talk about, I think I understand, but my REACTION to it is yet another thing entirely.  It made me sad, seeing what I saw in the dream, though the actual thing happening wasn't a sad thing at all.  So.. wth gives?

Sorry to be vague about the dream itself, but some things are just TOO revealing of my own thoughts and feelings, feelings I'd rather keep to myself.  I'm trusting my instincts on this.  I may actually talk about this stuff in detail at some point, but I prefer to wait until I'm ready.  Hope you guys understand.

The other crazy thing that's happened today, post-dream, is that I feel a little anxious about my future.  It's like I'm being forced to assess what I want and how I plan to go about getting what I want, in terms of my future, happiness, health, and so on.  I don't have the luxury of being on auto-pilot, so introspection and continually assessing where I am and where I'm heading is really important.  T is more of an auto-pilot type, and it's not always easy for someone like me who's trying to take the wheel of my own life to be around someone who's just, well, letting life happen to him.  Not to say that his life is bad, because he's really chill and content most of the time.  I like to see where I'm heading, though, so laying back and riding the current isn't going to work for me right now.  Not sure it will ever work, to tell you the truth.

I wish I knew what my subconscious was trying to tell me.  I have a guess, but I don't LIKE that guess so am keeping an open mind and hoping I'm full of it. ;p

That's a lot of writing for someone who's as tired as I am.  Sheesh....

The Dangers of Being Honest

Honesty has become a vulnerability.  People who speak their minds honesty are often faced with ridicule and contempt by those who have opposing views. I believe most of us get this and have experienced that ridicule first-hand.  While a valuable lesson, that ridicule and backlash, while it reminds us how we should choose our words carefully, we must always remember that honesty is STILL the best policy, and that lying by omission... is STILL lying.

A friend who reads all my blogs, and I mean every entry (bless her heart), sent me a message and said, "I don't know how you do it. Aren't you scared of haters bashing you?"  Well, no.. I'm not.  I refuse to allow haters and bullies to dictate how I think, behave, react or don't react to any given situation.  I mean, once you give away your power it's really hard to get it back.  It's best not to give your power to another to begin with.

I've relinquished my power to haters and bullies in my past.  My entire life, up until about 3 years ago, I learned to suppress my feelings, to bury anger deep, to hide the foundations of any feelings I had.  Not to say I wasn't emotional, because BOY was I ever.  I wore my emotions on my sleeve for the entire world to see.  But when it came down to recognizing for more than a second what created those emotions, and when it came down to standing up for myself, that's where everything fell apart, and it did so because I was taught early on that having those emotions.. was a bad thing.

I no longer think that, and because I no longer think that I FEEL more intensely those emotions I used to keep in check to the point of denial.  It's been a liberating process, being able to access feelings like that.  I don't have to apologize to anyone for having those feelings, and I reserve apologies now for when I HANDLE those feelings badly; thankfully this is seldom an issue.  So when someone writes me and is worried because I allowed the emotions and thoughts etc to flow freely on the pages here, or in my other blogs, I DO take into consideration what they're saying, but I also take into consideration that I've come a very long way to not only reach my feelings and access them more fully than before, but that it's MORE than OKAY to express them.

There is a danger to being honest.  There's a danger in speaking freely at times.  There's a risk that you won't please one person or another person, etc.  Not everyone is going to like what I'm saying.  But so what?  There will be those who DO, and it's with those people that the unspoken camaraderie is expressed and felt.  What I say, what I express, actually has helped people, and it's certainly helped me.  So I've no intention of changing this, just so everyone here is clear on where I stand.

I will accept the dangers of honesty and continue to be honest, sometimes bluntly, and I will take into consideration the edges honesty has by definition.  I'm not out to hurt anyone, and this is why I name NO names here as to whom I'm speaking about.. IF I'm speaking about someone else.  It occurs to me that having to say this means I'm still aware, very aware, of the risks I take.  But it doesn't matter.. I'm not here to write fiction or make things look better or worse than they actually are.

I'm going to be myself, haters and bullies be-damned.  No one should give up pieces of themselves for others to devour, and that's exactly what you do when you censor your words, thoughts, and feelings in a place or forum where you're there to speak your mind.  People can choose to read or not read, listen or not listen.  Actions are a choice.

So to my friend, though we've spoken about this at length--I hear you.  And I'm okay.  I'm okay with what any hater or bully thinks about me, because I don't answer to them.  And.. you shouldn't either.

Post-Political Rant

Whew.  Yeah, so I spent a bit of time on my other blogs with the last being a raging political rant.  It happens, especially right now in the heat of the debates and such.  This is a really critical time for us here in the USA.  Not that any other election in history wasn't important, it's just that the person coming into office this time around has to clean up Obama's mess, and what a freaking mess it is too.

While I'm not going to focus on politics here (did enough of that in the other blogs), I will say that I don't believe too many Americans actually GET just how much everything BHO is doing NOW, and what he will continue doing over the course of his time left as POTUS.. is going to directly affect each and every person, and it's NOT going to be good.

Stepping away from politics...

Right now I'm simply assessing things, as I do each and every day, weighing and comparing and contrasting everything that's going on in my life and how I can affect change without tipping the scales too far to one side.  This is a daily thing for me, as you guys may have already guessed. ;)  Overall, it's a good thing that I continue to persevere on all fronts, but I need to redirect my focus onto something solid and substantial with regards to what action I need to take right this very day.  What can I do TODAY to better my life and put me on a path that's more 'me' in nature?  Burning question of the day, my friends.

What I'm doing....

Reading.  Watching videos.  Learning from others who deal with AIH, weird relationships, and damage from past relationships, etc.  Acquiring insight on how others cope.  It's a good start, isn't it?  I believe so.

Pushing myself towards my art again, though I'm not convinced this is an effective message.  I don't believe any art reveals itself under forceful circumstances, but I do believe surrounding myself with the tools necessary to pick up and carry on will definitely help.  So this is what I've taken on over the past couple of weeks, getting a few supplies together to restart my OOAK dolls again.  I'm also making custom sock monkeys to augment and expand this artistic need I have, looking forward to the photography of the Little Weirdos in the making...

Well.  Dammit.  Here comes that wretched nausea again....

Seriously?  Ugh.  Ok.  Guess I'll end this entry here and hope for the best.  Time to sit back, relax, and scour youtube for more enlightenment...

Til next time....

For those who've left comments... THANK YOU!

So it seems comment notifications haven't been working in a VERY long time, so if you've left comments and I didn't reply please know it's because I didn't realize anyone had left any.  Blogger seems to have fixed this.. for now.

I appreciate everyone's feedback, more than I can find words to describe really.  I guess, with the exception of those I know 'in person,' or those who contact me via social networking or email, etc., I often wonder if I'm just shouting or whispering into the wind here.

It was my hope that sharing my own experiences would help others, or make people laugh, or think... well, then it's all well worth it, especially with regards to "This Free Spirit," which was created to help work my way to a healing place post-abuse and hoping to help others along the way know they're not alone.

So again, if you've left comments on any of the entries on any of the blogs and I haven't respond.. I will.  And hopefully Blogger's notification system re comments will continue to work!

Blessings and thanks to all of you...

No blast from the past, thank you

Yet, because I've saved far too much on my phone and in emails, I'm often smacked in the face by past reality.  It doesn't mean that it's a bad thing, really, because as they say.. those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.  And some of us repeat it because we simply haven't learned our lessons.

Either way.

Funny, though, how much of the saved crap is unpleasant crap.  But I do know why I did that.  During a time when I needed that reality check it kept me strong in my decisions and resolve with what needed to be done for my health, my happiness, and my life overall.  It serves its purpose even now.

Having no one to say 'goodbye' to...

And you guys know I've spoken about this before, but the reality of the situation is that when the mask slips and you see what really 'is'.. it's an earth-shattering event that is very very difficult to get past.  During a breakup saying goodbye is part of the deal, and closure is a natural process of healing.  But what of those situations where you find yourself not recognizing who you fell in love with, that same person you have to say goodbye to?  Yeah, that's the sucky part of it, isn't it?  That person vanishes, and in his place is this other guy, one you only recognize because of the physical features.  The change, as the mask slips, is insidious, a cautious and malignant process that sneaks up on you while you're busy with the task of trying to find out wtf just happened.

I've said my goodbyes.  Many times.  The merry-go-round keeps spinning, that other face of that other person you didn't recognize anymore there on the sidelines, standing still, not speaking.  No brass ring, folks, just that nauseating sensation of your world spinning and no one at the controls to make it stop.

But it does stop, eventually.  The vertigo sucks, your wobbly legs try their best to keep you standing, and yet you're still filled with this question as to WHO you're supposed to say your farewells to.  The guy you fell in love with, or the one who took his place?

I saw a therapist and am not at all afraid to admit that fact.  Smart people WILL seek help with things they don't understand, those things that disrupt an otherwise good life.  She was great, I will admit.  So much I was able to understand because of her, so much pointed out to me that was there but unrecognizable.  I get it now, I do.  But she warned me that it would take time, work, patience and perseverance to come to terms with what I was dealing with, who I was dealing with, and the resulting damage to my spirit and being.  No blame, mind you, as I realize my blindness was my own.  But I don't blame myself either, because I was dealing with an unknown that I had no name for.

I do know what it is now, and that helps me when I feel that old bewilderment return.  When I find myself STILL wondering wth happened to me, how I ended up in THAT experience, I need only to remind myself just how bad things became, and how utterly destructive it was to me as a woman, a human, and a thinking, feeling individual.. and I'm grounded again.  Oh, but no hate there.  I don't hate and never hate.  I hate what a person does or doesn't do, not the person.  That's not who I am.

Recognizing what happened wasn't my fault was hard, and is still hard.  I was told repeatedly how it was all my fault, completely and totally my fault.  I was told that so many times that I began to believe it (Gaslighting), then accepted it as truth because, after all, I loved that person dearly and believed he loved me as well--a mistake I wish I hadn't made, frankly.  But I swallowed it all hook, line, and sinker.  But this is how those things work.  It's the same in every single case, which is why it was so easy for my therapist to identify what was going on and point it out to me in the way she did.

It's an ongoing revelation for me.  In and out of confusion and the understanding that what was happening was out of my control.  What I DID have control over, which I didn't believe at the time, was my ability to make the decision to walk away from it all. Which I did. Finally.

Or did I?  Well, I live with the residual damage, so it seems. A constant reminder of what I thought was and actually wasn't, always wondering wtf happened and who the F I was with.  The mask slipped and I didn't recognize the face behind it...

Here We Go

By now you guys probably understand that I'm existing in that Prednisone fog.  It's intense, and it's not exactly a good time being on this stuff... and it's exceptionally awful coming off.  Once again, just a brief reminder that I will most likely reference this fact often, because it's overwhelmingly JUST THERE as a backdrop to everything I do or attempt to do.  But having said that, I'm dealing with one day at a time, and most days.. one hour at a time, and having sliced the 24 hours in unequal parts means things are truly at a level of chaos unlike anything I've ever known.

Nausea now.  Here it is in all it's glory, the beginning of Cushing's Syndrome-like effects, mostly unavoidable even when tapering slowly.  Bear with me, because if I have anything to say it's going to be filtered through this experience.  I can't promise it will be pleasant, but I can promise it will be truthful, real, and about as raw as you'll ever see me.

So, not to underestimate the power of steroid withdrawal, I simply face my thoughts and feelings on a case by case basis and hope for the best.  Is it moodiness that makes me think this or that, is it reality squared?  Do I ignore my feelings and tell myself "It's the prednisone"?  Nah.  Really, what mostly happens on this stuff is that the filters break down and allow everything to rise to the surface, unfettered by social graces. haha.  Of course I have some control over it and can maintain some semblance of balance in my perceptions, etc.  But I'm also finding it refreshing in a way to actually SEE and FEEL things on a very real level, even if it's unpleasant at times.

It's really weird, but I find myself facing things head-on that I would usually shrink away from in order to avoid any unpleasantness.  In fact, last night I had someone who I've known for many years say something completely out-of-line and hateful on social media, snarky... bitchy... just really blatantly rude.  A pre-prednisone me would've gotten her feelings hurt and simply left the conversation to die and wither on its own.  I would've walked away, licked my wounds and distracted myself with other matters until the hurt feelings passed.  Oh, but not last night...

Last night another, bolder me rose to the surface and in just a few words let that person know she was being mean, ugly, and asked her WHY.  Not for MY sake, mind you, but so she had to face her own ugliness.  Keeping it simple and VERY blunt I got my point across and actually had someone come to my defense, the very person who began the thread in the first place.  A thread, mind you, that had nothing to do with what that ugly person was talking about.  She basically just took a shot at me for no reason.  It's okay, though, because my give-a-shutter is a bit broken right now and I'm able to speak my mind without regret.  No, I'm not being mean or ugly.  I simply spoke the truth in question form and let HER emotional machine deal with it all.  Not my circus, not my monkeys... as they say.

I'm a little done with being a pushover, too-soft, and too much of an introvert that people walk all over me.  Maybe this is my chance to grow a stronger backbone so I can continue to rise above any BS that comes my way.  Maybe.  Just maybe.  I will still be me, just a little tougher than before.

Worth a shot anyway.   I'm nobody's tool.

What is worth more than this day?

I've been blog by blog, fueled by a little too much coffee this morning.  And yet I feel accomplished as I discover that, once again, my mind has cleared a little (thanks to the Prednisone??) and I'm able to get my thoughts out.  My other blogs, well all of them, are being filled with ideas, expectations, hope, contemplations... and I am feeling uplifted for the moment...

It's another day.  It's another day living with an autoimmune disease that is far from reaching remission.  I know the deal, summon the patience needed to accept the situation and it's processes, the time it will take to reach remission.  1-2 years.  I can do this if I focus.  Yes, there will be good days and bad days and struggles and set-backs, but there will also be victories.  It is what it is.

Acceptance.

Today began a little rough, not feeling well in the least.  However, and maybe not the best idea, I used a bit of extra caffein to boost myself to the next level here.  It worked.  So far it worked.  I can't do this every day, obviously not healthy, but I can do it when I need to.

Today is a good day.  And I'm going to get some things done.  Are there obstacles?  Yes.  Always.  But that's life, isn't it?  In the meantime I will take advantage of what energy I have, even if it is caffein-induced, and I will use it for what needs done.  Oh but I would love to have a take-it-easy kind of day, actually NEED that.  But not today.  Not today.

So I will listen to music, have this last cup of coffee, and find the drive and determination to complete tasks that are, quite frankly, not the easiest things for me right now.

I'm tired.  So tired.  But today is a good day.  And I'll take that.